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You let your fingers slip through Gamzee’s hair again. You’re spooning him, which isn’t easy since he’s almost a foot taller than you. His back is pressed against your stomach and his legs are tangled with yours, keeping you warm. Your hand finds its way to the base of one of his horns, gently rubbing over the sensitive area. He lets out a sigh in response, and you’re happy you can help him relax when he needs to.
Half the time he won’t even let you cuddle him unless you force him down (and let's be honest, you wouldn’t give or receive affection if you hadn’t convinced yourself Gamzee needed it), but tonight he lets you wrap your arms around him and press your face into his shoulder.
Moirails are supposed to balance each other out; calm each other down and make sure the other is comfortable. And for Gamzee that means lots of fucking petting. (Though you would be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy it too.) You think sometimes that he needs to be reminded of your love almost as much as you do his. Because you do. You love this dumbass. Even if you haven’t said it out loud yet.
“Karbro?” You hear Gamzee’s scratchy voice say. You hold your arm tighter around him as if someone will come by and snatch him away.
“Hm,” you say in response.
“Thanks for… calming me the motherfuck down.” He reaches back to grab your hand, which is now resting on his stomach.
“It’s kind of my job, asshole,” you try to growl. In reality, you're close to purring. His skin is usually cold, but right now he’s so warm.
“And ain’t I glad for it.” You roll your eyes even though he can’t see you. You’re still running your fingers through his hair (thank Gog he washed it) and around the base of his horns. You wouldn’t admit it to anyone else, but these are some of your favorite times; snuggled together under a blanket in the middle of the night. You made sure he ate food today, too. You’re pretty sure he forgets that his body actually needs nourishment to stay alive. It’s a good thing you’re around, you suppose. (Suppose, you’ve been talking to Kanaya too much recently.)
“Could you up and do one more small thing for me, brother?”
“What,” you grumble. You’re not upset, just really tired. Tired and comfortable.
“Do you think you could start going to sleep before two in the motherfucking morning?” You groan. You’ve had this discussion before. You don’t think your sleep schedule is capable of being fixed, but if Gamzee wants to try, then so be it.
“Fine. But only because you asked so nicely. And because you ate that whole fucking thing of meat I made you.”
“Thanks. Again. You’re the best motherfucking moirail I ever had,” he says sleepily. You’re not even going to mention that you’re the only palemate he’s ever had. It would ruin the moment. Instead, you bury your face further into his shoulder and drift off to sleep wrapped around him.