"Dave," Karkat breathed, pushing up against the wall. "What are you- What the fuck do you think you're doing?"
Dave frowned, leaning away from Karkat. "Uh, trying to kiss you? Duh."
"Yes, I KNOW that," he growled in response, returning the favor and leaning close into Dave's personal space. "What I mean is, you can't just go around kissing people when you haven't even decided on a fucking quadrant yet. Are we red? Are we black? Believe me, it's best to sort it out before we start mashing our faces together, otherwise it'll lead to all sorts of complications down the road."
Dave shrugged, turning his chin up, looking down at Karkat with half lidded eyes that he could barely make out through his sunglasses. "Does it really matter?"
"It matters to ME," Karkat insisted. Dave then leaned in again, closing the surprisingly small space between them. (When did that happen? Karkat didn't mean to lean in so fucking close, he just trying to intimidate him, honest.)
"Well then, maybe we can sort that out..." he pauses, and Karkat can feel Dave's breath ghosting across his lips. "Later."
"Oh you fucking fucker," Karkat growls, placing a hand on the back of Dave's head and pulling him in for a kiss. Karkat decides that it's much more pleasant than his last kiss (corpse smooches, ugh) and even though their teeth clack and it's more a little slobbery than he would like, it's still pretty fucking awesome.
Dave leans away, smiling, wiping a bit drool away with the back of his hand.
"You're a goddamn temptress, you know that?" Karkat mutters, a tiny smile quirking at the corner of his lips. Before Dave can respond with some smug remark Karkat kisses him again, stealing away his voice with tongue and lips and red fabric twisted into his hands.