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You compress the soft cushion you are currently laying on and quietly yawn; baring your jagged teeth as you do so. You then turn your head to glance at your sleeping loved one; the soft light of the morning waking sun shines on him, making him seem to glow. You can barely make out the dust motes floating in lazy spirals through the beam from your half-covered window. Dave, who is sprawled on the bed beside you, snores subduedly. It brings a small smile to your face--it was always hard to tear your eyes away from him and now is no different. Your eyes pan from his relaxed figure to his peaceful face, vulnerable in his sleep.
It has been 2.77 solar sweeps since you all won and were yanked forcefully into this strange universe, and yet, somehow, you are still taken aback by the handsome boy, his smooth and silk-like chocolate locks still full with its color and his deep amber eyes inviting and loving behind his calm façade. That destructive "game" took your grub-hood, took his, took everyone's. Even now, Dave whimpers in his sleep and it is (at least, you DEEMED it to be) your responsibility to care for him, though you won't admit that to him. You hear Dave stir and cry out. In this moment, you cautiously take his hand into the palm of yours and stroke his head gingerly, curling your fingers in his hair. You have learned the hard way not to pull him into an embrace while he's dozed off like that; he accidentally broke your nose the first (and only) time you did that. You blamed yourself for his actions, but he had apologized multiple times and you still aren’t sure if he really got over it, but you've already forgave him as soon as he said his first "I'm sorry," to you. You paid close attention to not let loose and claw him, after all, your nails are dangerously sharp. You make sure you trim them on a regular basis to avoid such a shitty scenario--but you recently haven't done that, and let it be known that you, Karkat Vantas, does not want to deal with any other casualties.
Despite Dave’s godtier abilities, and his claims that dead daves are “old news man, practically normal” you know that he never wants to have to go through that horsehit again. You are again reminded that you are dating a god and that next to you on the human bed, a god of time lays sleeping before you. He truly is breathtaking and you pity him, human love him, whatever. You care deeply about him and you treasure this moment, as you treasure all moments with him. He murmurs things in his sleep and although they persist, the dream-fiends don’t bother him the way they used to.
Dave reaches toward you and pulls you close and you sigh. You still haven’t gotten used to this feeling and you don’t think you ever will. You also don’t mind, not even a bit