dave mamahecking strider (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
callbacks) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
route_10652016-03-08 07:06 pm
callbacks) wrote in route_10652016-03-08 07:06 pm
Taking it slow, but it's not typical
Who: Dave Strider callbacks and all y'all's lovely faces!
Where: Goldenrod City
When: Throughout the month of March
Summary: Come bug Dave at his part-time gig at the nice combination café/bookstore. OR, if we have plans (or you'd like to make plans; hit me up at![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
asherdashery, it's public) I can write up a starter just for you!
Rating: Probably nothing over PG-13.
Log:
[Food service is...well, it's everything movies told him it would be. But as far as workplaces go, the café isn't half-bad. The bookshelves make everything seem quiet even during busy hours, and the comforting scent of paper and coffee fills the space. Dave actually kind of looks forward to his shifts there.
The best part, though, is making the latte art. It took him a while to get the hang of it, because it's got to do with as much science and math as it does art, but Dave is nothing if not a master of timing. Most customers will get a heart, leaf, or tulip, but at slower times of day, he might experiment with drawing a little more.
(He has, of course, also figured out how to draw a dick in your latte. But that's neither here nor there.)
He's a quiet, friendly server, and as long as it's not caffeine crunch time, feel free to request your favorite Pokémon. Or if you're the only one there on a slow day, just wait--he might surprise you.]
((OOC: So! Since this log is open all month, please give me the date you want our thread to go down. I'll also be updating a thread tracker of sorts below so it'll be easier for all of us to find the right thread. Threads do not have to take place in the café! I just provided that as a starter for people who just want to chill with Dave. I'm gonna be throwing a bunch of non-coffee-related starters in here, too.))
NAVIGATION
March 4 - Carolina and Karkat, lunch
March 7 - Kaneki, café | March 8 - Maka, café; Chihiro, café | March 9 - Naoya, Honeyed Souls | March 11 - Jimmy Two-Shoes, text-->action
March 13 Banjou, café | March 14 - Karkat, pale confession
callbacks and all y'all's lovely faces!Where: Goldenrod City
When: Throughout the month of March
Summary: Come bug Dave at his part-time gig at the nice combination café/bookstore. OR, if we have plans (or you'd like to make plans; hit me up at
Rating: Probably nothing over PG-13.
Log:
[Food service is...well, it's everything movies told him it would be. But as far as workplaces go, the café isn't half-bad. The bookshelves make everything seem quiet even during busy hours, and the comforting scent of paper and coffee fills the space. Dave actually kind of looks forward to his shifts there.
The best part, though, is making the latte art. It took him a while to get the hang of it, because it's got to do with as much science and math as it does art, but Dave is nothing if not a master of timing. Most customers will get a heart, leaf, or tulip, but at slower times of day, he might experiment with drawing a little more.
(He has, of course, also figured out how to draw a dick in your latte. But that's neither here nor there.)
He's a quiet, friendly server, and as long as it's not caffeine crunch time, feel free to request your favorite Pokémon. Or if you're the only one there on a slow day, just wait--he might surprise you.]
((OOC: So! Since this log is open all month, please give me the date you want our thread to go down. I'll also be updating a thread tracker of sorts below so it'll be easier for all of us to find the right thread. Threads do not have to take place in the café! I just provided that as a starter for people who just want to chill with Dave. I'm gonna be throwing a bunch of non-coffee-related starters in here, too.))
March 4 - Carolina and Karkat, lunch
March 7 - Kaneki, café | March 8 - Maka, café; Chihiro, café | March 9 - Naoya, Honeyed Souls | March 11 - Jimmy Two-Shoes, text-->action
March 13 Banjou, café | March 14 - Karkat, pale confession
no subject
He's just about to turn away again when Dave speaks, and he looks back in time to see his friend push his shades up and oh fuck, those are tears, Dave's crying, this is all his fucking fault. Again! When is it not?? Fucking NEVER, that's when! And with the way his hand is clamping down, he has to be about to tell Karkat off, because what else would it be?
... Except, somehow, it isn't.]
What?
[It's more of a croak than a word, and he rubs hurriedly at his face again even as Dave's—his m—as Dave's breathless laughter fills the air. There has to be some part of the conversation he's missing because it sounds an awful lot like Dave said yes and shit like that just doesn't happen in real life and definitely not to him. Had it been before or after "leak eyeball fluid?" "Quadrants?" "Take responsibility for..."
For Dave. For his moirail.]
You... you sack of shit, you didn't retain a goddamn thing, did you?
[It's the first thing he can think of to say, it's familiar, and maybe going through these motions might somehow explain how the fuck he'd managed not to fuck this up because seriously, did he fucking miss something, is this actually happening? What?
He falters a moment, then lifts his free hand and settles it over the one on his arm—over Dave's. His moirail. Dave's hand.]
You really mean it? You're not just...
[Just humoring him, haha, so funny, what a splendid joke. Dave wouldn't do that, right?]
no subject
Yeah. No one has ever been gentle with this kid in his life. Dave covers his eyes fully again, hiding everything behind his hand.]
Is this the face of a tool who'd fucking joke about having to sit through your godawful romcom sermons, bro. [Snrff. He wipes his eyes again. His sleeve is disgusting and should probably be incinerated as soon as possible for the public health.] I don't hate myself that much.
[He does tug his hand back, finally, but only so he can use all available fingertips to brush the remaining tears out of his eyes. This is so obnoxious, god. Snff.]
I'm "not just" anything, Karkat. I don't--I still don't get it, entirely, not everything that's involved or what I'm expected to...to do. For you. What you expect me to do, 'cause there's all this little shit that's obvious to you but I have zero exposure to, and don't you even start with the books and the movies because I don't care about how fake fictional highbloods get their quadrants on, I just want to get shit right for you--
[Agh, okay, that was gay. Dave buttons his lips shut, the heels of his hands pressed hard against his eyelids, but no. Human the fuck up, Dave. Karkat needs to hear.]
Because you deserve. It. You deserve to--to get all the things you want. And, and I want...
[Open mouth. Close mouth. It's like a winch yanks his throat shut every time he tries to vocalize it, every time he's ever tried to tell someone something as simple as what he wants. The words just aren't there.
But the blanket is still warm.]
I mean, if it's...if it's not a big change, like you said, and we're already...pretty much doing it anyway, then. Okay. I'm not...it, I. Well, okay, I could do without all the constant bitter-ass weeping all the time, I'm gonna dehydrate like a Craisin, but. Talking. To you. I.
[...]
Yeah, that's cool.
no subject
Fuck, he's still crying. What the fuck kind of troll cries over having a moirail, it's the dumbest fucking reaction. He should be happy. He is happy, he's just also really overwhelmed and goddammit, Present Karkat, get your fucking shit together, Dave doesn't need to see you lose it over something like this, what kind of message is this even sending? Settle the fuck down.]
I, um.
[Like trying to distract him by talking is going to work. Even if Dave Strider weren't Dave Strider, he'd be able to hear how much Karkat's voice is quavering. Shit. Fuck. Shit, give him a minute. At least how loudly his human heart is hammering means it's easy to focus on while he tries to regain his composure. Someone's composure. Literally anyone's will do, fuck.
He wipes his eyes again.]
I, I shouldn't—it's talking, yeah, but it's also. [Fuck.] W-we don't have to. Do that. [Oh god, he's making it worse.] I, I mean, you—yeah, that's not me, those highbloods, but you—
[Fuck everything about this sentence he's saying. Karkat just stops, mentally erases all he can from his memory of the last few minutes in conversation, and tries again.]
You're my moirail, Dave. A-and you're human, so you—it should be your call.
[He hasn't forgotten how awkward Dave is about touching him, how rarely "bros" in his romcoms had embraced and how quickly they had sprung apart, laughed it off. There were exceptions, but he doubts Dave will be one of them.]
no subject
It takes an endless moment of mystified-and-worried staring through his parted fingers before it clicks. Highbloods. The touching, the calming of the melodramatic and, to Dave, incomprehensible berserker breaks whose centrality to stories' plots he never understood, that always seemed forced in and fake. He still doesn't understand, not that part, but--
Karkat coming right in to hug him when he broke his own way, when he shattered that completely. Karkat's hand on his back, warmth and closeness, comfort. How Karkat clung to Dave's hoodie, and then to him.
Falling asleep in his lap.
Slowly, inexorably, starting from the tips of his ears all the way down his pale throat, Dave flushes pink. He doesn't recognize his own voice for a second, it's so small, and surely the impulse isn't his.]
Yes. P. Please.
[Oh, no, wait, that was him, wasn't it.
The embarassment and nervous second thoughts come almost immediately. He can feel his face burn hotter under his hands, god.]
M-maybe if there was a chart, so I know...
[He stops. He takes stock of what his last sentence was going to be. And then he slides his hands down his face and mutes a mortified sound into his palms, because he really was just about to suggest that Karkat make a goddamn diagram of moirail activities so that Dave could know what's appropriate, so that he could know what to anticipate or say no to in advance.]
Just. Fuck. Just, for--for now, just. Ask? First? I'm sorry, Jesus, I'm such a shitshow. I, I told you, dog.
no subject
Whatever the case, he hadn't expected the realization to come so quickly, if at all (because no he had not made any implications whatsoever about wanting to touch or be touched in a conciliatory way, that's a figment of your imagination). There's no other explanation for Dave's sudden and vibrant blush, though, and while Karkat is convinced that the human (his moirail) can't possibly be looking at it the same way he is, his skin is soon coloring to match. Fucking—fuck, why had he opened his mouth, why, he should have just left it alone. It shouldn't even be embarrassing to expect that from a moirail but that stupid human single quadrant was fucking things up anyway!
He can't bring himself to speak at first, his face buried in his own hands, but neither can he keep his silence if Dave is going to say shit like that about himself. This stupid fucking human, he swears if he didn't like him so much, he would—]
Shooshing. Is shooshing okay?
[He says it mostly to say it, but then also. Well.]
Because shoosh. Fucking shoosh, Dave, you aren't a shitshow. Fuck, I don't want to hear you say that unless you're agreeing with me after I said it first, you absolute disaster.
no subject
What the fuck, how is calling me a disaster any better than shitshow? Fuck you, dickstick.
[After a moment, he turns his head towards Karkat, though he still can't see him, at this angle.]
Also, yes, asschafe. Shooshing is okay. T...touching is okay, too. Hugging, that I'll grant as a freebie.
['Touching is okay,' he says, esconced in a luxury burrito. What a useless buttlump, that's neither helpful nor specific.]
Is hair touching...Wait, do I. Get to do stuff, is it just you towards me, how does that work.
no subject
Because I say it is. I'm the troll here, I know what goes and what fucking doesn't in moirallegiance, okay?
[He may be enjoying saying that word more than strictly necessary. Also. Yeah, about that...
Very, very carefully, he reaches out and touches Dave's upper back—through the blanket, and no, his hand isn't moving beyond that yet, he's just. Testing things out. Is this okay? He'd ask aloud, but that involves altogether too much audible articulation for him to want to try just yet.]
You can touch me. I won't mind.
[No matter what Dave does, probably. He's magnanimous like that.]
no subject
It's strange and, as he doesn't flinch away, as he lets Karkat test the waters (and the waters are simultaneously Dave himself and something he has no knowledge of, something he's experiencing as new just as much as Karkat is), he finds that it's nice. After a moment, he frees his arms from his blanket cocoon and pillows his head on them, breathes out, lets his eyes fall closed under Karkat's hand. Yes, the governor of Dave County approves this motion. The Alternian representative may continue, he has the floor.]
Okay. Um, exclusivity. For this quadrant, I mean. ...What's that gonna look like.
[Because, yeah, that's another boundary to figure out. While the practical details are important--and also, yeah, he doesn't want Karkat to stop with that any time soon, like. Dave's human. Casual affection happens, even for him, and he's handsy and open with Jade, too, and it wouldn't be fair to...he doesn't want to give that up with her, she's been one of his best friends for so long, and he's always...]
no subject
The moment he hears that question, though, his puzzle sponge and increasingly saccharine thought process sputter to a halt.]
Uh, what's. You mean what's exclusive? To this?
[Is Dave asking really asking this. He's totally asking. There's nothing else it could be. Oh god, does he have to describe—fuck, again! Humans!
Karkat withdraws again but only because it would be fucking awkward to discuss this while touching Dave—or wait no, would that make it more natural? FUCK. But he's already pulled away and it would be weird to lean back in and asdfkljhdagfh this is stupid. Humans are stupid.]
Uh, probably... uh. Probably cuddling. Or papping, I guess. [He digs a hand in his hair—his own hair—and tries not to notice his missing horns as he scratches.] Trolls aren't as... demonstrative around hatefriends as humans, so it's kind of hard to—I mean, our situation is different.
[By "demonstrative," he may mean "exhibitionistic," but he doesn't say that aloud. Besides, an idea has occurred to him that, while potentially helpful, is probably worse. But... ngh, is there another way to do this? He could try relying on descriptions alone, but this would be both faster and easier and. Other things. So...
He bites his lip.]
I could show you?
[Did that come out too hopeful. Please say that didn't come out too hopeful.]
no subject
['How do I not accidentally cheat on you,' is what he was trying to say, but--in a way, it's the same question. What should he be saving for Karkat? What are the cornerstones for...for moirallegiance, what set it apart from friendship or romance (human romance) so that you only ever let one person in that far?
He's watching Karkat over his shoulder, trying to read as much meaning into his body language as his words. He looks away for a moment, thinking, then finally pulls himself up to sit properly facing him, even if he can't quite pick up his chin, even if he's still clinging to the blanket. Dave looks up diffidently from under pale bangs in disarray, falling gently over his forehead. His glasses are sitting crooked on top of his hair.]
Okay.
[It's funny, how words desert him the closer he comes to sincerity.]
Where. Uh. Do you want me.
no subject
He sighs softly, closes his eyes. Forget whatever he'd been thinking of; Past Karkat is a self-centered douche and needs to wise the fuck up. Just focus on Dave.]
Where you are is fine.
[More than fine, if he would just stop looking like that, like he fears being hurt or hurting someone else.
It's the realization that Dave is probably worrying about hurting him that makes Karkat move—slowly, so as not to scare him, but deliberately enough that his moirail should be able to see that he knows what he's doing.
(He doesn't, actually, but Dave doesn't need to know that.)
His eyes open again, flick toward the sunglasses, then resettle on Dave's as Karkat reaches up to remove the shades and set them aside. It's the most direct eye contact he can remember getting without that damn barrier in the way, and he's determined to make it count. He has to be a good moirail, both because Dave deserves one and because... well, because. That's reason enough.]
You don't have to be afraid, Dave. [He folds the glasses, sets them aside.] I know this is new to you. Just... do whatever feels right for now.
[He hesitates, then raises his hand to Dave's cheek, lightly caressing it. It's only the knowledge of how the human is likely to interpret it that's making his face turn pink again.]
... Is this okay?
no subject
Maybe Karkat's just being careful with him. Dave didn't even know himself he was scared, doesn't know what it is to be anything but, and the words still him, somehow, even if he wasn't moving.
Karkat's hand brushes his cheek.
It's like his heart trips over its own clumsy ass and eats twenty yards of bad pavement. Dave's whole face lights up incandescent, probably down to his shoulders, he doesn't know, because the problem isn't even that. Karkat's barely touched him and it's done unspeakable things to the cavern of his chest. Karkat's only asked him gently if this is (if Dave is) okay, and he's shaken to his core, as liable to crumble at a whisper as a fortress made of dust.
It's like the blanket. Softness for its own sake, something to rub against his cheek just because it's nice, something Dave can have just because someone wants him to feel good. To feel not-afraid.
He gets it. Holy shit, no wonder trolls don't count this as platonic. He breathes in and attempts to formulate an answer.]
Mm. [Oh, wow, that tiny noise was about as pathetic as it gets and it still got stuck on its way out. Dave clears his throat and tries again.] Yeah. It's--yes. Um. [...Hhhhh.] Um, give me a second.
[He opens the blanket for an instant, but only to pull it all the way over his head. Flump. No more Dave. No more Karkat's hand, either, as Dave traps it against his wrist, tries to keep him from moving it from his cheek. Like he's still endeavoring to get used to the idea of contact. Like he hasn't decided whether it's good or bad, it's just overwhelming and he needs a moment to catch his breath, to work it out.
Anyway, hopefully Karkat doesn't need his hand back or anything. He touched Dave, it's his now. We don't make the rules.
It's a moment in the blanket tent before Dave trusts his voice enough to speak again.]
If you keep doing that, I think...think I might fall apart? Is, is that normal. I'm not saying stop, just. Heads up.
no subject
He almost had taken his hand away before Dave trapped it, and although he's glad he didn't because yeah, his moirail is about as subtle about liking the contact as a bright fucking red blanket with visible limbs sticking out of it is as a hiding place, he's still concerned. Should he have done something else? Started with a hug? What?]
Trolls can react pretty strongly to it. [Sometimes. Not always. Then again, Karkat has stopped a murderous rampage with his voice and touch alone, so maybe it's more a him thing than a Dave thing? Fuck, that sounded weird.] Look, are you sure you're okay? Because I—I mean, I don't want to rush things if you're not, uh. Ready for it.
[Okay, that sounds really weird, but it's also technically accurate, so just. Shut up for a second.]
It's okay, Dave. It's a lot for you to get used to. [And, if it really is all right—] Take your time.
no subject
He shakes his head--shut up, he's fine--and waits himself out, gives his pulse a few seconds to stop racing like it's the NASCAR cup and he's Danica Patrick with a glass ceiling to break. When he feels even an eighth of the way sufficiently settled, he breathes out (was he holding his breath?) and eases the pressure of his arm against Karkat's hand--only to replace it, tentatively, with his own fingertips, questing and shy. They skate across the back of Karkat's hand, over the bumps of his knuckles, and, after a moment, Dave moves them up, covers Karkat's hand with his, holds it gently there against his face. Another beat, another, and he sighs quietly, lets his fingers slide into the spaces between Karkat's, leans slightly into the warmth of his palm.
His voice is steadier, now.]
It's not the touching. That's fine. [No, wait.] I--I like it, it's. Good.
[Is it possible for a person's face to pull so much blood from the brain and the rest of the body that they swoon like a Southern belle? Detective Dave Strider is on the case! God, he's a mess. Why is blushing even a thing, what possible evolutionary purpose does it serve.
He wonders if he really could faint. Just from Karkat patting his face, just from this much. He doesn't feel like he will, but wouldn't that be a story to tell the wigglers.
...
W h a t. Okay, Jesus Christ, moving on!]
I think it's just--mnh. [Maybe he's not as steady as all that.] N-nobody ever...I've been trying to say. Nobody ever looked at me like that, like... [Like they needed to be gentle, like he was something worth being tender to. Like he had fucking feelings that could be hurt. He takes a shaky breath.] So, with all of it at once, it's a little...it's, it's like you said, it's a lot.
[Enough that he needs another couple seconds just to come back from saying it. Eventually, unstoppably, he loosens his other fingers from their deathgrip on the blanket, and, released, it slips off slowly to pool around him like a bad movie trope.
Dave looks down for another heartbeat, then meets Karkat's eyes again.]
I'm okay now. I mean, I'm still...but it's okay. ...Keep. Keep going.
no subject
Shoosh. Idiot.
[There's no reprimand in his tone, just warmth and teasing; it's a "god, I adore you even when you babble like a moron," not a "shut up." He needs the input anyway, needs to know that Dave is here with him and on board with everything he's doing. How do humans cope without a pale quadrant, anyway? If no one had ever looked at him like that, then he...
The fingers resting against Dave's cheek twitch a little, but Karkat says nothing as he shifts closer, maintaining the skin-to-skin contact as much as he can. He doubts he'll be getting that hand free any time soon, but he's curiously accepting of that. At least Dave had stopped hiding from him.]
I'm glad you like the blanket.
[Conversation is normal, right? And, he hopes, enough to keep Dave from getting overwhelmed as Karkat lifts his other hand and gently brushes blond bangs aside before going to cradle his other cheek. His hair is still messy from earlier, disheveled by how he'd pushed up his shades and made his impromptu tent, but Karkat isn't at a convenient enough angle to fix it for him. Maybe later.]
It might get too warm later, but you're used to lava and shit, right? Just make sure one of our Pokémon don't steal it from you.
[Not that he's naming names or anything, Sharru. It's a general statement.
He tucks a wayward strand of hair behind Dave's ear and favors him with a small smile.]
Still okay?
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.
no subject
He thinks he'd want to keep that sight to himself, but he's not fucking insane. It's the softness that really gets him anyway, the way Dave looks so open and affectionate—Karkat isn't imagining that, right? He's not even sure he knows what those emotions look like anymore, but they have to resemble what he's seeing now. He refuses to believe that they don't.
The smile widens as Dave grows bolder, and he can't help but watch as his moirail's slim fingers trail over his own and to his wrist. Everything's slow and sweet and perfect and he's not moving from this spot until he's good and ready, he doesn't even care.
He's just started stroking Dave's cheek again when the question comes, and while he's far too relaxed to freeze up, he may just noticeably falter. He should have been paying closer attention. Like... fuck, he just really should have been paying attention.]
The same thing we're doing now, mostly.
[His voice is remarkably steady, he's proud to note, but holy shit, this is not how he'd planned on explaining certain embarrassing truths about his past behavior.]
Except with more talking about feelings. It's sort of...
[Fuck. Fuck everything. Just. Fuck.
He chews his lip again, then forces himself to continue. With eye contact, even.]
Like, uh. Like when I talked to you that one morning? It's basically that, except on a pile. They're not... strictly for moirails, but it's sort of, um. You know.
[A romantic activity, unless you were Feferi and had absolutely no boundaries whatsoever because you were the heiress and no one would call you out on inviting multiple people to a highly public feelings jam in the middle of the computer room. Goddammit, Feferi.
... And yeah, okay, fine, it's highly likely that Dave won't consider initiating unsolicited feelings jams inappropriate, but still. Shut up.]
no subject
What, when you woke me up and made me cry?
[His eyes glance to the left as he thinks about it, then up. Yeah, that was kind of intense, wasn't it? And if Karkat was doing all that while harboring a humongous pale boner for him, and talking about feelings and hugging and stuff is part of moirallegiance, then...]
Oh. Huh. I guess it's kind of like smooching someone who doesn't realize you're all hells of getting a romantic gesture on. ...Wow.
[No wonder Karkat's embarrassed, LMAO. Dave's embarrassed for him, Jesus. And also for himself. He is kind of stupid, god damn.
After a moment, he takes Karkat's hand from his face--just the one, the other's fine, Karkat can keep doing whatever with that one--and cradles it palm-up on his knee, the back of it cupped in his hand. Dave brings his other hand over, slides two fingers down the center of Karkat's palm and then up to his fingertips, slowly. Brushes his thumb up and down after them. His cartography project is still underway, it seems, though this time Dave watches his own movements, notes the color contrasts and the differences in the shapes of their hands.]
So, actually, yeah, can we talk about that? I mean, not about before, that's fine. My human perspective is that I pretty clearly needed an intervention regardless of relationship status and you did me a solid by stepping in. I'm just thinking about...going forward from here. How do I...how do I make sure I'm not, like...
[His pattern-tracing slows, but then he sighs and threads the fingers of his supporting hand through Karkat's, looks up to meet his eyes again.]
Okay, full disclosure, I'm probably obviously thinking about Jade, here. I don't think I'm that, like. Demonstrative with anybody else. But if it's a problem, I gotta know. I don't want you feeling like I'm cheating on you all the time. [He's earnest, now, though he drops his gaze to their interlocked hands again.] That'd be shitty and the opposite of what I'm supposed to do.
no subject
He's back to avoiding eye contact when Dave takes his hand, and all hopes of returning to a normal color evaporate when he shiversat the touch, his breath catching. He shouldn't be this sensitive, it's stupid, but G—that fucker had never touched him like this and he's still kind of emotional. How the fuck had Dave thought he'd suck at this, he's amazing.
It takes him longer than he cares to admit to muster a response, longer still before he can even move and oh my god it keeps happening. Is this what he'd been doing to Dave? Because if so, he can understand why he'd hidden under the blanket.]
You, uh. With Jade?
[Words are hard, shut up, and yeah, okay, he's definitely picturing the two of them cuddling and caressing each other's hair while they share their innermost secrets. He's incredibly fine with it, actually. What the fuck, he's not even interested in Jade in that quadrant, why.
He's also trying not to imagine all three of them in a pile together, but he's so far from successful it'll take fucking surgery to recover. Fuck, he's spending too much time around humans, they're gettting their weird pale promiscuity all over him.
To distract himself and just because, Karkat takes a moment to trace Dave's hairline and the ridge of his brow, his touch feather-light. It's still a novelty, seeing Dave without his shades, and even if he's sort of gotten used to his own vibrant red eyes, it's oddly fascinating to note the differences between them and his moirail's.]
I'm not going to make you give up Jade. What kind of asshole do you think I am? And if Rose ever shows up, or John, I won't make you stay away from them, either.
[He lowers his hand to Dave's for a reassuring squeeze.]
Trust me, I know your human single quadrant shenanigans are going to make things weird. Just... you know. [He tries a casual shrug.] If you ever change your mind about this moirallegiance, let me know before you... before whatever.
[He'd rather not have to wonder.]
no subject
A real, genuine smile: the kind a person makes not to convey pleasure or amusement or politeness, but the unstoppable, helpless kind, because he's happy.]
Okay.
[Well, that takes care of all items of business he had to bring to the table. Dave decides that verticality is once again optional. He scoots down, taking Karkat's hand with him, and curls up on his side, grumbles and lifts himself long enough to tug the bunched-up blanket out from under his ribs, then pillows it under his head. There. Smile still lingering, he looks up at Karkat, then closes his eyes, comforted and comfortable.]
You got my permission to carry on with the wooing and shit, dude. You're clear, you may proceed.
[--Wait. His eyes shoot open and he picks his head up again.]
Touching is okay, tickling is not. Just. Do not. I will kick you in your face and it'll be your own dumb fault, we'll be looking for your teeth for a month.
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This moirallegiance has to succeed, for Dave's sake if nothing else. Or... no, it'll probably fall apart eventually, just because he's Karkat Vantas and fucking up spectacularly is what he does, but until that happens, he's going to be the best palemate he can.
He doesn't hesitate to flop down next to Dave when he descends—wait, no, he'll grab a pillow first, then flop down next to him, squirming a little to get comfortable. A pile would be better, but he doesn't want to let go of Dave's hand long enough to make one.]
You still need wooing? God, you're a finicky bitch.
[He means this in the nicest way possible. Also, he's absolutely scooting closer and briefly touching his forehead to Dave's because he will have as much closeness and intimacy as he can stand now that he doesn't have to feel guilty about it. These past few weeks have been hell.]
Flowers aren't a quadrant-specific gift, so you lucked out there, sorry to say. And jewelry is stupid.
[... Also, this isn't really a good enough angle, either, but he's going to start straightening Dave's hair anyway. He's been wanting to pet it ever since the falling-asleep-in-his-lap incident, shut up and deal.]
Human females always seem to go for it, and I don't get why. That flashy shit's for nobility, and even then, it's pretty pointless.
[There's little point to this tangent; he's mostly trying to make sure Dave doesn't get to overwhelmed again. That's also why he didn't begin cuddling with him immediately even though he really, really wants to. See? He's totally generous.]
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I think it's just different, culturally? Like...first off, jewelry's for everybody on Earth, nobody gives a shit. Obviously, people who've got more money can afford more bling so it's a status symbol that way, but it doesn't, like, mark your social caste or anything. It's just for pretties. ...Well, mostly.
[He plays with Karkat's hand for another couple seconds, then looks up, curious.]
Are you thinking about, like, wedding rings? Or engagement rings, maybe. I bet you saw a bunch of those in your movies. That's a tradition, they're symbolic. It's...
[He trails off, still looking at Karkat while he thinks, then reaches up to brush a single finger against the hair falling across Karkat's forehead. Apparently the way it fell at this angle was distracting him. The Dave-to-Karkat face-touching action is apparently still a little much for the Dave-to part of the equation, though, so he returns to examining Karkat's hand. Their calluses are different. It's interesting.]
Well, in the human cultures that do it, that's how you ask someone to marry you. I mean, to be with you forever. Sort of the ultimate romantic trope. Remember, we only got the one type of romantic love, so when you ask someone to do that, it's a big fuckin' deal. You really gotta know, you gotta commit for life. So blowing your life savings on the perfect ring, it's like proof of your devotion. To the person, to making it work. And, like I said, it's a trope. Everybody likes a trope.
[He stretches his hand out flat against Karkat's, palm to palm, and looks at his face again between their fingertips. This? This is kind of fun.]
I read that married people never take the things off, they just keep wearing them even when their hands get all knobbly and arthritic and they couldn't get the rings off if they tried. But what do I know, I never met any married people.
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He's feeling abnormally content with the world as the explanation continues, his own eyes drifting shut multiple times because it's just so fucking weird existing in a space where all-encompassing rage doesn't dominate his thought processes. He doesn't even care where or how Dave is touching him, just that he is and that he's here, safe, and preferably happy. The attention Dave's giving his hand is making his human stomach flip its shit repeatedly anyway; it's hard to concentrate on much of anything else.]
I know about human marriage. From movies. [Like he needs to specify. Also, petting temporarily on hold while he toys with a lock of Dave's hair.] Seems like it'd be nice to have that kind of symbol, except trolls would need five if we had all of our quadrants filled. That'd be a pain in the ass.
[This is, after all, the same species that widely regards fashion as being stupid, so any "bling" is kind of superfluous. He guesses they could probably use it as a weapon? But who the fuck would ringkind as their strife specibus, that would be stupid. Dave might do it for the ironies, but he is also stupid.
Karkat's hand drifts back to his cheek anyway and hovers by the corner of his mouth. Why do humans have such flat, useless teeth? They're not even strictly herbivorous.]
There are still problems between married couples, though, right? Did I ever make you watch The Wedding Planner?
[Dave, quick, change the subject before he goes into any more depth, you're our only hope.]
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Yeah, obviously. [Obviously what? That he watched the movie? Sure. He puts Karkat's hand in both of his again, absently massaging the sides as he talks.] Something like, I dunno, forty percent of human marriages end in divorce, and that's after all the time we put into dating around and convincing ourselves we've found "the one." But even if it doesn't work out in the end, the gesture's a big deal to saying you wanna try.
[He looks down at that poor captured hand he still hasn't released, then turns it over so he can see the back. His fingers weave through again; the spaces there are getting more natural to fit.
It seems this is fascinating. That, or Dave really likes holding hands. He makes a thoughtful noise.]
Hmmm. I guess five rings would get kinda clunky. And expensive. Maybe a charm bracelet would work better. You know, like, hooking on the signs of the people you're with and little diamonds and spades or something.
[He looks up again, then shrugs a little. Lightly taps the spot just beneath the dip of Karkat's collarbone.]
Or those break-apart BFF pendants girls like. Those'd suit the concept pretty well, too. Everyone gets a leaf off the applesauce symbol.
[He's not even going to pretend he can pronounce auspistice.]
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... Yeah, he's got it bad. Damn Dave Strider anyway.]
It'd be nice to celebrate filling a quadrant like that.
[He says it without without thinking, and although the ensuing blush is much fainter than the ones he'd been wearing earlier, it's still noticeable. Dammit.]
Don't tell Jade I said this, okay? But marriage sounds really... really special.
[IF I HATE MYSELF SO MUCH, WHY DON'T I HATEMARRY MYSELF. Haha no.
He inches a little closer, clearly self-conscious.]
I've told you about serendipity before, right? We believe that for every quadrant, there's some troll or pair of trolls who were hatched for us. [Or not-troll who was born fokay no, not finishing that thought even if Dave has to be aware he's thinking it. Maybe?] So having formal ceremonies to recognize finding those people would be appropriate, you know?
[No he does not realise that it sounds like he's asking Dave to marry him, if in a tremendously roundabout way. Sort of. He's more focused on gently taking hold of that hand and splaying the fingers before pressing their palm together again. Why the hell is Dave's hand so much bigger than his, argh. Time to pretend he wasn't comparing the size of their hands and link their fingers.]
I'm starting to think you actually do want jewelry. [Oh, wait.] And it's "auspistice." You can say "ashen" or "clubs," you know.
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