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You have an idiot lying on you. It is not necessarily an unpleasant experience; he's impressively warm, body temperature almost in line with yours. He has made the choice to sprawl his lanky human form across your legs and the entirety of the small elevated dual-sitting platform the two of you are sharing. This wouldn’t be too bothersome in and of itself, but it’s preventing you from leaving the room in which a bizarre alchemized clusterfuck of your romance movies and the entirety of Dave’s SBAHJ comics is searing its shittiness into every crevice of your thinkpan.
"Dave, this is the worst fucking thing to have ever crashed into my sorry ganderbulbs," you gesture violently in the direction of the husktop you are currently watching this cinematic disaster on.
Dave casually bats your hand out of the air, and if it happens to come to a rest on his arm it is entirely a consequence of pure goddamn chance.
"You see, that's where you're wrong. This is a goddamn masterpiece. Have you ever seen anything more beautiful than two "Y" shaped mouths just sort of, sprinting into each other like fuckin’ Usain Bolt going for the gold? No, you haven't, because that would be nigh impossible," Dave's voice is half obscured due to his face seemingly trying to fuse with one of those ugly as fuck knitted horrorterror pillows Rose is continually creating.
"Their mouths aren't even fucking attached! It literally defeats the entire purpose of kissing in the first place,” as you watch the screen, the colors of the scene begin to invert from their normal hues to the complementary ones every time someone blinks. To avoid the impending pan-splitting headache, you look down, away from the screen. Unfortunately, that brings Dave’s reflective as hell sunglasses into view, and the damn movie is broadcasted directly to your thinksponge yet again.
Dave’s head shifts from its current position on the pillows, twisting so he’s looking back up at you. “Alright so, uh, I don’t know about you but my eyes are already kinda fucked up as is, and although this movie is nothing less than top notch entertainment--” you scoff at that, but Dave smirks and continues, “my poor retinas just can’t handle this quality flashing.”
“Well what a fucking shame, we’ll just have to turn the thing off then,” you press the designated button and the screen goes black, thank fucking god.
“Like hell we do,” Dave flails a long arm in the direction of the button, but you grab his wrist before he manages to switch the fucking thing back on.
“I think my thinkpan will physically leave my body, just seep the fuck out of my aural canals, if I have to see one more second of that,” you pull Dave’s arm back to the couch.
Your legs get a mild shock of pain and the couch squeaks obnoxiously as Dave bounces upward, landing with a shift in his position that better enables him to reach the button, “Aural canals… goddamn dude, why can’t you use normal words? Saying ‘ears’ is two syllables faster, and it makes hella more sense if you ask me.” While he talks, Dave attempts to extract his hand from your grip. You grab his cape from behind his head, but, sensing your course of action, Dave snags it from you with his free hand and wraps it around your head.
Holy shit that thing is soft, and it’s so warm. It’s oddly comforting too, especially when the faintly sugary scent of the fabric hits you. You feel your thrumfolds start to buzz lightly and you freeze. What the fuck.
You’re just trying to kill some time watching stupid movies, not spreading your pale quadrant-smeary bullshit all over Dave’s cape. Is that too much to fucking ask?
Distorted noise blares from the speakers and you flinch. Startled, your buzz starts to die down slightly. Thank god. You try to move, to leave this situation before you get locked into something that will mess up the one good relationship you have left on this fucking rock, but Dave is still on you. The soft pressure of his body, like a giant, slightly angular blanket, causes your thrumfolds to ramp up their vibrations. If this continues, it’ll fuck up your vocal cords enough that you won’t even be able to explain yourself to Dave.
“Dude holy shit, you’re purring?” Dave pulls the cape away from your face. Why the hell didn’t you do that before?
“Guess what I don’t want to talk about, ding fucking ding, that,” damn it, your voice is cracking and humming all over the damn place.
“Shit, is this some troll sex thing? Did I just turn you on by covering you in a blanket? Why the fuck did I just ask that? Goddamn, I’m like Karen from Mean Girls, except instead of asking you why you’re white I just asked you why you’re making what are possibly ‘I have a cape fetish’ noises.”
“I don’t have a cape fetish, nooksponge,” you whip a hand up to your throat, trying to somehow muffle the dumb noises. Unfortunately, all the contact of your hand on one of the single most vulnerable parts of your body does is make your pale-happy thrumming grow more intense. Fuck, you don’t need to do this here. Dave has made it explicitly clear that he’s not into ‘gay shit’, and the last thing you need is to have to straight up explain this to him.
You also have no idea what Dave just finished saying. Great, now you’re a shitty troll and a shitty friend, what else is new. Also you’re sitting on your arms and Dave is sitting on you, so you can’t fucking leave.
Damn it.
“Hey, Earth to Karkat. Wait, nevermind, Earth is deader than shit. Uh, meteor to Karkat? I guess? Damn, that does not have a ring to it. It’s got, like, negative ring. Saying it absorbs sound instead of puts it out there. Anyway, speaking of sounds, what the hell is going on dude?”
“Nothing has ever been going on, just put the trash movie back on or something,” your throat feels heavy. You should really leave, but pushing Dave off of you would just make you look even more pan-addled; you’re making enough of a fool of yourself as it is.
“Okay but like, your cicada noises are pretty much entrenched in my grill at this point, and I think you’re kinda shaking too much to put the movie back on, so, uh, yeah,” Dave pauses as he sees you grimace due to your tenseness evolving into cramping muscles.
“I didn’t like, hurt you by flinging fabric at your face, right? Is this some kinda distress noise? We can just stop the movie or something if we have to. I’m an asshole but like, not that kind of asshole,” Dave shifts so his glasses-shielded gaze is aimed directly at your own. Your vision is getting fuzzy.
“Not distress dumbass,” you manage to force out between the waves of buzzing. Something warm hits your cheek and you stop breathing.
“Shit, okay, yeah sure totally not any distress at all in this house,” Dave hesitates for a second before taking a deep breath and wrapping his arms around you, “You’re crying now and I don’t know how the hell to deal with that so just let me know if I’m fucking this up too bad, okay?”
He’s so warm. The icy feeling of dread that’s been crawling through your veins melts into a soft fuzz as you let your whole body relax against Dave’s bony chest.
“Asshole,” you hum against him, your face split into a soft smile. Dave's body shakes lightly as he laughs.
After a few beats, Dave takes a deep breath, "Alright, so, do you wanna like, talk about whatever the fuck just went down with the purring and the sobbing, or--?"
You unconsciously nestle yourself further into Dave's arms, "It's quadrant bullshit," you mumble, half-expecting Dave to flip you off the cushioned dual-sitting platform and onto the floor as he sprinted from the room.
Surprisingly enough, Dave just tenses for a fraction of a second before resting his chin on the top of your head, "Aliens man, why do y'all gotta be so polygonal? It's like math class all over again. What square are we talking about here?"
"Your cape was soft, so the idiot part of my brain noticed that and reacted like I was getting the shit papped out of me."
"Okay but like, isn't the face petting square is supposed to be packed full of chill and deep breaths?"
"Supposed to be. Wouldn't it be a fucking party all the time if things were the way they were supposed to be?" a soft growl builds in your throat but dies as Dave starts playing absentmindedly with the ends of your hair.
"Paradox space likes its sadistic assfuckery I guess," Dave shrugs lightly and his shoulder knocks into your slightly runny cartilaginous nub.
"No fucking kidding. Anyway, there were soft things on me and I made stupid noises and I got embarrassed. Past me yet again exhibited a lapse of any fucking mental faculties, skipping right past pitiful and directly to 'painful display of idiocy'. What else is new," your ganderbulbs feel prickly and on fire and you are about ready to rip them out of your fucking head.
"Aw shit, one sec," Dave untangles one of his arms and grabs his cape, then offers the edge of his borderline snuggleplane to you, "since it's all magical and self-cleaning you can get all the snot you want on it. For the record dude, I am one hundred percent fine with a background track of weird bug noises during movie time."
"You don't fucking get it," you take the proffered piece of fabric and wipe your red-stained cheeks with it, "these sounds have romantic implications, okay? Doesn't that bother you?"
"Does it bother you?" Dave's face goes oddly neutral.
"I don't know! I'm smearing tears and snot all over your fancy pajamas because I can't understand my garbage fucking emotions," you try to flail your arms but they're too busy being stuck under the cape.
"Alrighty, well, in response to that, it's time for me to make a stupid fucking decision, brace yourself," Dave pushes his sunglasses up and you have approximately a second to think 'holy fuck, his eyes are my color,' before he leans over and a pair of slightly chapped lips quickly brushes against your own.
Something in your chest catches and a loud chirr escapes your throat as Dave quickly pulls away, hope wrestling fear for control of his features.
You think you're probably floating, or glowing, or something.
Holy shit.
You aren't really thinking when you grab the front of Dave's god-tier outfit in your hands and use it to yank him towards you, wrapping him in a hug that's frankly rather uncomfortable with the way the two of you are positioned on the couch.
"Thanks asshole," your speech capabilities have been obscured by a veritable symphony of various clicking and thrumming sounds, but you know Dave heard you. You know this because you can feel his relief as his entire body relaxes and his warm huff of a laugh hits your ear.
"That's it, I'm never gambling. Shit's too scary," Dave mumbles, and you have no fucking idea what he's talking about, but honestly what else is new.
Clumsily, you pull back slightly from the hug and press your lips to his, the warmth of them hitting you like a fossil-powered four wheel device. You've never kissed anyone before, but you've always expected your first kiss to go something along the lines of 'cold lips then culling drones'. You're pleased that reality is different from your imagination on that particular front.
You can feel Dave's pulse beating out of time against your own as he talks against your lips, "Dude I hate to admit it, but I have no fucking clue what I'm doing here."
You pull away slightly breathing was starting to get a bit difficult due to the combination of weird thrumbox shit and a snot-clogged cartilaginous nub, and let out a scratchy laugh, "Good, because I don't either and you can't possibly know more romance than me."
"Fuck dude, you wound me. I know romance, check this out," Dave flings an arm out and hits the play button on the husktop. The two paused, jpeg-artifact ridden actors suddenly start jerkily moving and continuing their stilted makeout session, "See this? Prime romantic action. I know how to seduce an alien."
"God fucking damn it," you sigh, but the idiotic grin on your face deletes any sense of malice your comment might have held, "Here we are again, ready to completely destroy our lookstubs with your shitty excuse for media. Congratulations, you've fucking wooed me."
"Hell yeah, that's my job," Dave shifts his position on the couch so he can comfortably rest his head on your shoulder, then closes his eyes, "Let me know when the graphics aren't trying to actively murder my retinas."
You roll your eyes, even though Dave can't see you. Dave's hand flails about for a few seconds until it hits yours and you thread your fingers between his. Purrs and clicks blend with the distorted sounds coming from your husktop speakers, you can't tell whether the sweat in your hand holding endeavor belongs to Dave or you, and you think your foot is falling asleep. Nonetheless, a warm feeling courses its way throughout your veins as your eyes trace the soft curve of Dave's smile. You guess you can put up with the stupid fucking movie.
For the next several hours the two of you sit, snarled in capes and blankets but laced together.