Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When it’s first brought up, Dave doesn’t really get it.

He’s not gonna tell Jade she can’t also date him but a bird, if she wants to. The way their relationship works is they can both date whoever the hell they want, as long as they talk about it like grownups. There are several alien hotties on their new, game-winner planet that can attest to that. 

He just doesn’t see the point. Why bother with a crispy chicken-flavored knockoff when you’ve already got the original article? She has Dave at home. 

Sure, it happened before, back when the dating pool was limited to three dorks on a spaceship and the original recipe was off the menu. But all kinds of shit has changed since then. It’s a whole new status quo. 

Jade and Doppelgangersprite even broke up for a while, before she and Dave shacked up. They wouldn’t exactly be the only members of their freaky, enmeshed little group to give things another go, now that they actually know what they’re doing, but… you know, it feels a lil different. 

Whatever, though. If it makes Jade happy, he’s cool with it. 

That doesn’t mean it’s not a little weird, though.

Don’t get it twisted; Dave’s cool with a lot of shit that’s a little weird. Like, interspecies planet with a whole bunch of aliens right living next door to humans? Little weird, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. Locking lips with some of those aliens? Little weird, extremely awesome. Being actual, for-serious friends with a nerdy, scrawny (comparatively) 19-year-old version of his Bro? More than a little weird, and also straight-up incredible.

So if Dave has to watch his own face do shit from the outside because his girlfriend’s boyfriend is just him minus legs and plus wings – it’s chill. He can deal.

----

Roxy’s hosting, which means this little get-together could land anywhere from a rager to a LAN party. It also means the guest list is expansive. Roxy’s got a knack for getting along with people that don’t get along with each other. No surprise there: she’s wrangled Dirk’s grumpy ass this long, after all.

Basically everyone’s there, including the unusual suspects, who might not be invited or might not bother to go to, like, a Rose and Kanaya dinner party or a movie night at Chez Egbert. 

Vriska, even though she’s fucking Vriska. Tavros, even though there’s fucking Vriska. Sollux’s antisocial ass, egging Karkat on towards a tantrum on the couch. (Video games + taunts + a lot of kicking/touching/nudging are a guaranteed recipe for pissing him off. Dave knows from experience. From the gleeful look on Captor’s face, he’s counting on it.) Dirk and Hal (and Hal’s freaky new robo-body), because like hell are either of them missing a Lalonde special unless something really fucked is going down. Et cetera. Everyone you’d expect and a few you wouldn’t. 

And, well. Davesprite. 

(Also, on an entirely separate note, Davepetasprite’s holding court outside. Dave has no goddamn clue how any of that works, but considering the amount of previously dead people populating this party and planet, it’s not the weirdest thing going on. Dave, Davesprite, Nepeta, and Davepetasprite are all in the house -- sure, fine, whatever. It hasn't caused any glitches in the Matrix yet.) 

Davesprite’s in the kitchen, mixing drinks for anyone who asks. Dave would argue that his own mixes of the auditory variety are at least as intoxicating as a cocktail, but he's never tried his hand at making actual cocktails. He has no idea when Davesprite picked up this particular skill set.

Dave has no idea how the results taste, but Davesprite’s pretty smooth with it, too, hands steady as he pours and mixes shit like a fucking alchemist. Dave’s not really trying to watch, but there’s not that much to do while he sips his own shitty punch. 

Jade breezes in, approximately a thousand miles of warm, brown skin visible between the shorts and the crop top and the lack of sleeves. Also on display is the trail of dusky hair that starts at her belly button and vanishes under her waistband and the actual button of her pants. Dave’s pretty sure he and Davesprite check her out at the exact same time.

She pinches Dave’s ass and smooches his shoulder as she passes him. Then she weaves right through the small circle of people waiting on a Davesprite special, and greets the bartender.  

“Hey pretty bird,” Jade croons, bumping her hip against his. Or. Dave assumes that’s his hip. It looks about right, and it’s in the right spot, but it does immediately trail down into the code-ghost tail thing most sprites have instead of legs, so who the fuck knows. 

Davesprite wraps one wing around Jade’s shoulders, both hands still busy balancing liquor and a mixer. “Hey, darlin’,” he says back. 

And, see, this is what Dave means about watching his own face do shit from the outside. Since when does a Dave just break out one of the serious business pet names in public like that? Jade playing grab-ass is fine; that’s just Jade. She was sitting on Aradia, earlier, and they’re not even dating. Dave’s not nearly as paranoid about his cool quotient these days (he’s accepted that nothing can knock him off that particular throne), but it still kinda freaks him out.

Dave’s sure he keeps his expression in-check. Like, not even a flinch. But when he looks up from his punch again, Davesprite’s looking right at him, so clear that the double combo of both their shades can’t even obscure it. 

What the fuck is that about?

----

“He’s a really great guy,” Jade says when she’s spooning Dave on the couch one night. She’s got one of his hands and is tracing shivery little patterns over his palm, which is both soothing and a little bit distracting. “I think you’d really like him if you guys talked more!”

Which, like. No doy. Dave knows that. He’s the great guy in question. But that feels a lil rude to point out when Jade’s handin’ out compliments, so he just sort of nods. 

But, for real, what the hell is there to talk about? Hey man, still got all my memories up until the crow crisis? Yeah? Any bird memories in there? How’d you feel about jumpin’ in a sprite kernel because we apparently make a lot of stupid fucking decisions without interference? 

----

“You’re not jealous, are you?” Rose asks, from extremely close behind him. 

“Nah,” Dave says, when he’s had a second to recover from the heart attack she just gave him. (Definitely purposeful. He recognizes that smug face.) 

He doesn’t bother to pretend not to know what she’s asking about. It’s game night at Terezi’s, and everyone’s split off into groups. Terezi’s leading some obscenely complicated social deduction game in the dining room. Dave stayed in there long enough to find out that Terezi and Rose wrote it together, that it’s in the playtesting stages, that there’s a role called “the Vriska”, that Vriska is going to be mad whether or not she gets assigned “the Vriska”, and that he definitely doesn’t have the brainpower for it tonight. 

Now Dave’s leaning up against the doorway, ostensibly waiting for his turn in the Mario Kart-alike tournament going down around the couches, but… yeah, definitely also looking across the room at where Davesprite, Jade, Hal, and Dirk have convened. They were originally setting up to play Operation or something. Dave has no fucking idea what it is they’re doing now.  

It’s not jealousy. He knows what jealousy feels like. Jealousy would be a whole different bag of cats. This is something else. The problem is he’s not totally sure what. 

“What is it, then?” Rose asks, settling in next to him. “You seem to be staring.” 

“Tryin’ to figure that out,” Dave admits. “Seeing him feels really fucking weird sometimes. I don’t get why. Not like I haven’t known for years that there was a Dave 2: Electric Birdaloo out there. Even with the wings and shit, shouldn’t be much different from seein’ myself in a mirror.”

On the other side of the room, things have somehow evolved into what looks like Dirk and Hal giving Jade a show-and-tell tour of Hal’s robotic self. Jade’s tail is going at the speed of light. Davesprite is mostly hanging back, but he’s also laughing and not even trying to hide it.

(Hal’s robo-body is a hell of a lot more lifelike than any of the other robots he’s seen from Dirk. It took a lot of back and forth before Dirk agreed to work on it, and then there was an even longer period of compromise and planning and figuring out how to even do half the shit Hal wanted. In the end, it’d taken more than tech; there was a whole lot of Roxy and Jane and Jake’s godtier shit mixed up in it too.) 

(Dirk did seem pretty pleased with the result, once he’d stopped being moody and antsy about the whole thing. And Hal had been really fucking picky about it, from everything Dave’s heard, so the fact that he’s showing it off is probably a good sign. Honestly, it seems like they’re on better terms now than they were before the whole body thing started.)

“Have you noticed yet that he speaks much less than you do?” Rose asks. 

“Uh, no?” Dave says. 

“I mean, it’s admittedly not very difficult to achieve,” Rose says. “And he’s hardly quiet. But while you seem unable to stop yourself from babbling at times, especially when you’re flustered–”

“Hey, what the hell?” Dave protests. “This is goddamn slander. I have complete control over my own tongue and every minute move it makes. This thing doesn’t even twitch without permission. I’m a maestro and this is my fucking instrument.”  

“Sometimes to the point of continuously monologuing to yourself at a volume no one else in the room can actually comprehend,” Rose continues, ignoring him. 

“Now you’re coming for my narration? That’s the flavor text, man, I do that on purpose, it’s my gift to all of you, it’s entertainment I provide out of the goodness of my heart to enrich your boring lives, this is so ungrateful–”

“Davesprite doesn’t seem to do as much of all that,” Rose finishes, matter-of-fact. “He seems to have less difficulty stemming the flow, so to speak.” 

“...Huh,” Dave says, glancing back across the room. He has not, in fact, noticed that. 

“What is it that they're doing?” Rose asks, raising one sharp eyebrow. 

“Wait,” Dave mutters. “Wait, oh my fucking god, hold up, are they gonna play Operation on Hal now? Holy shit, I have to get in on that.”

----

Jade turns out to be serious about the hanging out with Davesprite thing. She starts planning a double date.

(“Not that I’m knocking it, Harley, but is it actually a double date with just three people?” Dave asks, when they’re first going over possible itineraries. 

She sticks her tongue out at him.

“It’s a double date for me, because there’s double boyfriends at it! But if you want, next time we can bring Karkat or someone, too!”) 

The great, don’t-know-what-you-have-until-it’s-gone thing about living on a planet populated by a whole bunch of people that are not them is that, unlike on the meteor, they don’t have to make 100% of their own fun. There’s, like, events. Shit other people set up. Places to go. 

In retrospect, it’s a wonder they all didn’t go full-on stir crazy during the meteor years. Maybe the trolls had a pretty reasonable number of murders actually, given the circumstances. 

Dave can only imagine how much worse it probably was for the inhabitants of the space princess battleship, with only three people onboard. Makes him kinda sick to think about, actually.

But okay, Captain Sidetrack, that’s not the point. The point is: they got options.

Jade’s three person double date ends up taking them to an "Art in the Park" event. They pack a picnic basket that’s mostly snacks, and Davesprite meets them at their place to head over together. By the time they arrive at the park entrance, Jade’s tail is already wagging so hard it reminds Dave of helicopter blades preparing for takeoff. Dave doesn’t have to be a furry to know that’s cute as hell.

The park’s basically decked out. Booths from local artists, food stalls, canvases propped up to showcase art pieces like a museum. There’s a makeshift stage with a microphone set up, and some carapace guy strumming an acoustic guitar in front of it.

“This is so cool!” Jade gushes, bouncing on her toes. “Where do we go first?”

They end up making the rounds of the booths, Jade hooking both of her arms through one each of theirs and Davesprite holding the picnic basket so she doesn’t have to. Some things are cool, some so lame it kinda loops all the way around. Dave’s into some of the weird little trinkets on offer; strange dolls with exaggerated proportions, wood carvings with tiny little details, paintings that look like nothing until you stare a while. Davesprite keeps beelining towards any booth selling shiny shit (jewelry, glassblowing, whatever), which Dave makes the executive decision not to comment on.

Jade ends up buying Davesprite one of those reflective glass windchimes, something colorful and dangly that takes the sun and turns it into shivering rainbow patterns that change with the breeze. Davesprite’s so visibly touched by it that Dave kinda can’t look at his expression for long. 

“Oh, wait, I wanna get something for Dave too!” Jade says, jerking upright. “You guys wait here, hold on, I’m gonna run back!” She kisses them both on the mouth and bounds away before there’s time for either of them to protest – not that Dave was gonna do something dumb like ask to not be left alone with his bird self.

They’re by the stage and the open mic, so while they wait, Dave shoves his hands in his pockets and watches. A cool little two set with a violinist and a singer gets clapped offstage, and a new act takes their place.

When the spoken word poetry starts up, Dave winces. 

“Goddamn,” he mutters, tilting his head towards Davesprite. “Bless their hearts, but you could not pay me to do that.”

“I think it’s pretty brave, actually,” Davesprite says, immediate, totally straight-faced. “Besides, that’s like rap’s cousin. Kissing cousins, even. You talkin’ shit about rap’s close, intimate cousin?” 

Dave twists his head to look at him, squinting at the expression on his face.

“...You’re serious,” he realizes.

“Sure am,” Davesprite says, looking right back, his expression almost challenging. 

Jade launches herself at them like a heat-seeking missile, then, so Dave doesn’t get a chance to try and puzzle out what there even was to challenge.

Chapter Text

The last person awake at a sleepover has a sacred duty. 

Well, actually, a couple sacred duties, now that they’re adults that actually have to be responsible and shit.  

Sacred duty the first: clean up a lil bit. Nothing crazy, obviously. No one wants the poor bastards left awake to have to fix up the whole house. But, like, if you wanna toss out open drinks and make sure any food is covered and put away and shit isn’t in a super knock-over-able state, your hosts will probably be eternally grateful. Will probably prostrate themselves at the altar of your friendship, fluff your ego a lil bit, offer to suck your dick friendly style, whatever. Being helpful is its own reward. (Being told how great you are in the morning is another, additional reward.)  

Dave has already helped out with the major requirements of sacred duty number one. 

Sacred duty the second: draw on your friend’s faces. This will not negate the goodwill earned by your helpful deeds because it’s a mandatory part of the sleepover contract, okay. Everyone knows the risks. Fall asleep first, and you’re getting marker face.

People are sprawled out and snoring all over John’s living room, on couches and chairs and sleeping bags and an air mattress and also straight-up on the floor. Dave’s cross-legged next to one of the couches, making a masterpiece. As the host, John has already reaped the benefits of Dave’s incredible magnaminty, and is now reaping the, uh, honor of Dave lovingly doodling a penis on his cheek. People from Dirk’s timeline would’ve paid for the privilege. 

Davesprite is still up, too, floating around getting trash into a bag even though all the mandatory sacred duty cleaning tasks are already done with. They’re mostly quiet because everyone’s sleeping, but Dave doesn’t think it’s an awkward silence, exactly. Just a silence. 

When Davesprite gets close to grab a crumpled can, Dave’s not really thinking about it all that hard when he opens his mouth. 

“Do you ever think about, like, pickin’ a new name? Like Hal did?”

Davesprite stills. He turns his face towards Dave, and slides his shades down his nose some, shooting a look overtop that’s really, deeply unimpressed. Kind of searing, actually. Dave wonders if he’s ever looked so piercing with that same face.

“That’d sure be convenient for you, wouldn’t it.”

Dave feels his ears flush with uncomfortable heat.

“I was just curious, man,” he says, palms up in surrender. It comes out too fast, words scrambling in a hot pan. “Like, yeah, obviously it would be, a little. Hell of a lot less confusing, if nothin’ else. But that wasn’t really – it wasn’t – like, okay, sure, you can just start assigning me motives, I guess. Lemme be clear: I don’t have motives. There weren’t any motives. Isn’t a guy allowed to ask a semi-charged question anymore? A dude can’t just open his mouth and stick his own foot in it without having secret intentions attributed? It’d be one thing if it was your foot, not that you have those, lucky you, but I’ve got rights as the owner of the foot and the mouth in question. I can stick them wherever.” Dave swallows, and carefully puts his attention into drawing a really lopsided bird on John’s forehead. “But, like. For real. I was just wondering. You wanna stifle my childlike curiosity about the natural world?” 

Davesprite snorts, with enough loud and open amusement that Dave’s pretty sure it surprises both of them.

“Okay, okay. I get it. Keep your childlike wonder.” He’s quiet a moment, tying off the trash bag with a flick of the sprite tail that Dave’s pretty sure is just to show off. He perches on the arm of the same couch John’s falling halfway off of. Dave can’t tell if he’s actually sitting, or just floating right above the cushion. “Nah,” Davesprite finally says. “I mean, first off, I shouldn’t have to. It’s been my name just as long as it’s been yours. Longer, technically. You’re lucky I even put sprite on the end. Could’ve made it real confusing.” 

Dave drums his fingers in perfect time against his knee, and adds a flurry of flowers sprouting from the rich field of John’s left eyebrow.

“Fair ‘nough,” he mumbles.

“It’s also not the same situation,” Davesprite adds.

“What’s the sitch,” Dave whispers under his breath, followed by the hummed notes of Kim Possible’s pager. 

Davesprite ignores this, which is frankly the correct response.

“Hal was Dirk one day and then woke up in glasses after they had the genius plan to clone their brain, sure,” Davesprite continues. “But, like, he wasn’t changing his name from Dirk. He was changing it from Auto-Responder, which he didn’t get to pick in the first place either. It was kinda a rebel move to insist on a person name at all. Maybe I am kinda still a game construct, a lil bit, but that was more incidental than anything else.” Davesprite adjusts his shades, his mouth quirking up. “Plus, naming himself after the big, bad murder AI from Space Odyssey was a basically incomparable ironic power move. I don’t think I’ve got anything near as good to pull.”

Dave nods, his fingers tapping faster. 

“Do you ever think it’s kinda weird that you ended up orange and Hal is red?” he asks, after a moment. 

Davesprite’s snort turns into a full laugh this time. 

----

Jade’s off doing something insane with Sollux and Terezi, so it’s just Dave and Karkat left at home. They’ve ended up with their legs tangled on Dave’s bed, with a movie playing and Dave getting his doodle on in a sketchbook. 

Movie night with Karkat usually means half making fun of whatever they settled on, half listening to his increasingly earnest rants. It’s always a good time. 

But for whatever reason, Dave feels antsy tonight, his focus kinda drifting even with the helpful multitasking.

“What do you think of Davesprite?” he asks, during a lull. None of the bitches onscreen are even doing dialogue, so there’s no way they’ll miss anything crucial.  

It’s supposed to be just a casual aside. But Karkat gives him a super weird look and then full-on pauses the movie, which was not the plan.

“Considering that had not a single fucking thing to do with what we’re doing right now, am I right in assuming this is something that’s been on your mind for a while?”

Dave shrugs, being hella meticulous about brushing his eraser shavings off the paper.

“I dunno. Just wondering.”

“I don’t know if this is some kind of fresh, hellish neurosis where you compare yourself to the closest living approximation of who you could be if you were a totally different guy or what," Karkat says, and puts his hand over Dave's mouth when he opens it to inform him that it's no such thing. "But whatever, I’ll play ball. I like him fine. I don’t know him as well as I know you, obviously. He makes Jade happy, which I give a shit about.”

Dave plucks at the comforter, finding a loose thread that he’ll probably regret unraveling later. Then he licks Karkat's palm, which gets him a free mouth, a grimace, and his own spit getting wiped on his shirt. 

“Don’t you kind of know him about as well as me, though? You know, like... because of how you know me? I guess you used to talk a lot about hating your past and future selves, though, so maybe that’s not really how you think about that stuff.” 

“Past me was an insecure nookwhiff making an assortment of dumbshit decisions that I was forced to live to regret and experience the consequences of, sure. But, as much as it pains me to admit it, I was also the person who made those choices. I was able to realize my deficiencies so I could curse my own wretched name afterwards, as I fucking deserved, but that was still technically the same guy.”

“So,” Dave says, twining the thread around his pinky finger so the skin bulges between the lines, colorless. “You’re sayin’ you think we’re not. Me and Davesprite.”

Karkat unsheathes a claw just enough to slice through the thread so it falls off Dave’s finger, and then takes his hand and holds it before he can find some other way to cut off his circulation. 

“It’s been what, six, seven years since you diverged? Several of those where you were entirely separated? You’re sure as fuck not the same overcompensating wiggler you were when we met. But I don’t know, Dave. Much like Davesprite, I’m not actually in your head. Hang out with the guy more, if you’re not sure.” 

----

So. Dave hangs out with the guy.

Not because of what Karkat said, really. He’s not, like, doing it for sneaky reconnaissance reasons. It just sort of happens. 

They get to talking about sampling stuff for mixing music, about how sometimes Dave gets an itch to record whatever random sound he comes across just to see if it’ll be of any use in a beat. So they end up spending a couple days going around recording nonsense; Rose snoring, birdsong, people talking in another room, Dirk with his welding machine, wheels on pavement, crunching leaves, whatever catches their fancy. Of course, that obviously means a bunch more time trying shit out and seeing if any of it works. A lot of the material is useless, but it’s fun, and there’s this crazy thrill any time some insane sample inspires a bunch more ideas and actually turns into something. Davesprite’s able to produce some insanely cool bird noises that would be basically impossible to get on command from an actual bird, and with a little coaxing (he seems almost surprised Dave’s into it), they get a bunch of those on tape, too. 

Obviously there’s the hangs with other people, too. Terezi ropes everyone into another round of playtesting, and Dave gives it a shot this time, and Davesprite totally throws him under the bus when he’s playing the Vriska. Davesprite and Dave take up opposite snuggling posts on either side of Jade during a movie night, and while most of Dave is fully enjoying the prime cuddle time (even though Jade’s doggy ears keep tickling his cheek), there’s a part of him that’s, like, weirdly aware of Davesprite’s breathing the whole time. He tries one of Davesprite’s cocktails, which he’s gotta admit are pretty damn good. There’s a whole impromptu rap battle royal that devolves into an argument on if its a rules violation that Hal’s literally connected to the internet with his brain, and then turns back into a competition when Davesprite says that it’s probably fair because Hal could use the help. 

Sometimes when Davesprite zones out, his face goes weirdly sad, even though he’s not looking at anything. If you ask him what’s up he says everything's fine, as normal as having to shit what you eat. Dave’s not sure if he’s actually bein’ sad or if it’s just some kind of mystery quirk of his face. But for real, he looks like someone just kicked a puppy, it’s insane. Really tugs the heartstrings. Davesprite's also pretty easy to make laugh, though, if you do it right, so it's not hard to get his face back to normal. Dave kinda likes making it happen. Davesprite sometimes looks straight-up surprised by his own laughter just before it happens, which makes it feel like some kind of impressive accomplishment, even though it is absolutely not that difficult. 

It’s good. It’s nice. Dave honestly hadn’t thought about being friends with Davesprite before it happened, because – well. Because he’s kind of a shithead, that’s why. Because he kinda didn’t think Davesprite was really a person. 

Davesprite is a person. Davesprite is probably even his own person, and Dave feels like an asshole for needing to have that spelled out for him. 

----

Is it totally narcissistic to kinda wanna kiss a guy that’s basically you?

Is it sort of the opposite of narcissistic to only wanna kiss that guy now that you feel like he’s not that much like you after all?

----

They’re supposed to be setting up for Rose and Kanaya’s anniversary party (being hosted at the Jade-Karkat-Dave household so the women of the hour don’t have to clean up after, which Rose better fucking appreciate, because it’s not like Dave does chores for fun). Dave’s gotta get his head in the game. 

Dave’s head is not in the game, and he’s pretty sure it’s extremely obvious.

He’s jittery as hell. He keeps missing half a sentence and needing people to repeat themselves. He’s supposed to be making a banner for the door but he’s been staring at it for way too long without getting any further than the sketchy outline.

Jade steps out to phone-call-coordinate with everyone making and bringing food, and Davesprite sighs like he’s a zillion years old and appropriately exhausted. 

“Dude,” he says, and Dave snaps to attention. 

“Sup,” he responds, cool as a cucumber, probably.

Davesprite shakes his head, running a (notably clawed and scaly, man, what the hell does that feel like) hand through his hair. 

“You’re being weird,” Davesprite says. 

Dave grasps for an undoubtedly weak denial, but he doesn’t quite manage to find one in time. Answering too slow is basically like agreeing. 

“Sorry,” he says, instead.

Davesprite’s mouth twists.

“I know what’s goin’ on. And I get it, but, like – dude. Chill out. I’m not gonna jump you, or anything. I know you wouldn’t go for it.”

“...What,” Dave asks. All those sentences make sense individually, but together they’re painting a blurry-ass picture. Go for what? Being jumped? Because Dave’s sparring days are mostly behind him, sure, but he’s not sure what that has to do with how fucking weird he’s being. 

Davesprite gestures between them, a little impatient.

“I’m not gonna do anything. Like, I’m not a slave to my impulses, I don’t gotta do shit just because I think about it. You think I’m you, it weirds you out, it’s too fucked up, I get it. You don’t gotta worry about fending off unwanted advances. So just… breathe, or whatever. We got a good thing going, I don’t want this to mess it up.” 

Dave’s mouth is suddenly very dry.

“Uh,” he starts, and then swallows. “I did, maybe. Past tense. At one point. Think that you’re me. But not anymore.”

There’s a moment of clear recalibration, where Davesprite scans whatever script he’s working off in his head and tosses it out when he realizes Dave’s fully off book. Then he cocks his head at him, eyes narrowed and assessing when he pushes his glasses up onto his head like he’s trying to see Dave better.

“Really?” 

“Really,” Dave says. 

“Okay,” Davesprite says. “Cool. Happy to hear it. And that’s the main thing you wanna refute, here? Nothing about the other shit I just said?”

“Man, whatever you thought was the issue was so far off my radar that I’m gonna need to get a whole new, updated radar to find it. My model’s clearly outdated.”

“Huh. Well. My bad for assuming,” Davesprite says. Dave’s not sure sprites can blush (does their blood even work the same?), but he is somehow looking a little more orange. “And, uh, for saying some other shit you definitely didn’t wanna know. Want help on the sign?”

No, nope, they’re not backpedaling all the way out of the conversation. This could be a mistake, but the emotional honesty approach has been serving Dave pretty well since he found out about it.

“I’ve been thinking about kissing you,” he blurts out. “Like. Kind of a lot, recently. Didn’t know that was maybe on the table.”

Davesprite just looks at him, for a second, and then he’s right up in Dave’s face, hovering a few inches off the ground, tentative fingers on Dave’s jaw.

Sprites don’t look like they should feel solid. They just don’t. They look like they should compress and wobble under your fingers like fucking jello. 

They’re not like jello. They do compress a little when you press in, sure, but — you know, like skin. They feel kinda freaky, though. Not quite textured the same. They’re warm (or maybe that’s just Davesprite), and there’s a whole lot of feathers on the skin sticking out from under Davesprite’s shirt, which Dave gets his hands on when they press their lips together.

It does not feel like kissing himself. It doesn’t feel like kissing a mirror. It feels like kissing any other guy, and it feels really fucking nice.

Then there’s a noise like a squeaky toy getting stepped on. 

Jade’s in the doorway, her hands over her mouth and her tail going a mile a minute, looking like her birthday came early.

“Sorry!” she says, but she’s grinning too much for it to sound sincere. “I didn’t mean to interrupt, but – holy shit!”

Dave laughs, ducking his head forward into the ruff of feathers by Davesprite’s neck.

“Get over here, Harley,” he says, and Jade crosses the room in record time. She and Davesprite pull Dave up to his feet so they’re not impeded by his pile of floor markers, and Jade steps in to kiss him hard on the mouth. Jade kisses are always take-charge, enthusiastic and unshy. They’re one of Dave’s favorite varieties of smooch. 

Jade’s got a good few inches on him. When he got his growth spurt on the meteor, he thought he’d maybe catch up, but turns out Harley was busy having her own, separate growth spurt, which she swears has nothing to do with her space powers.

(Maybe it’s not very sporting to accuse someone of cheating at height, but Dave had been pretty damn flustered at the time. Not his best moment.)

Davesprite should be the same exact height as him, theoretically. But he isn’t, because he doesn’t have legs and can fucking float. Which actually is cheating. 

Dave tries to point out the unfairness of that situation, but Davesprite ends up wrapping his tail around Dave’s thigh while they make out, like he’s tethering them together, and honestly that’s a little too distracting for him to make a coherent argument. 

They end up having to collaborate on the banner, and it still comes out sort of a mess. Dave declares it an avant-garde masterpiece, and thinks he mostly gets away with it.