Chapter Text
This time when he curls up with you, you’re awake and he’s aware and well shit, not like you can deny him, right? So you shift around- his knees knocking into yours and your arm shoved uncomfortably under your head- until he’s comfortable, crown of his head just resting in the palm of your hand. He’s never been against touchy-feely-ness, and you have nothing against it when it’s him.
He blathers on for sometime, but the gist of his story is this: he grew some fucking cahones and dropped Vriska. She was none too happy about it, and so… well, he smiles at you at that point and stops. His lip is slightly swollen on the bottom left, but already scabbing. You brush your fingers across his cheek, the handprint red, his skin warm. He flinches just a bit, and you hesitate, pulling your hand back. Stupid stupid-
You’re surprised when he grabs your hand and presses it gently to his cheek, his fingers falling into the spaces between yours. It makes your own cheeks warm, right to the tips of your ears, but all the emotion you’re feeling hides behind your shades. If he could just see your eyes right now, it’d be the end of you. So you focus on the warmth of his skin and the murmur of his words and hope that maybe, just maybe, this is going to tip things in your favor.
Everything has been so blissfully normal as of late. John wakes up at seven and goes to work. On Saturdays you manage to drag yourself out of bed and you both eat cereal in the kitchen. He pitches in half of the rent and you take him out for drinks at Alternia.
He’s half sullen about the break up, but you can see the difference; he has more confidence, and he doesn’t look anxious half of the time anymore. Sometimes he’ll call you up on his lunch break and you’ll meet him somewhere for food. Other days you always call to make sure he’s got lunch, even if you have to call around noon and see if he needs you to drop by.
You’re so unaware, you’ve fooled yourself into a dream. Now your own confidence is building, but you need to give him time, even Rose doesn’t need to tell you that. (She does anyway.) So now you’re trying to cut yourself off, can’t have too much John, not too much of a good thing, he’s like fucking crack lately; like God just decided to drop one-hundred and fifty pounds of derpy drug in front of you and commanded you to snort it all. (Of course, it’s Egbert, so fuck God telling you to, you’d do it no matter what.)
Now you throw yourself into work- mixing new tracks on off days, coming up with new beats and rhythms. Notebooks pile up in your room, filled with scribbled raps and half-formed sheet music you messily scrawled. Egbert shows up at your doorway one night as you sit at your desk, cross-legged and crammed into your chair, writing with one hand and tapping out beats on the keyboard with another.
You barely note him, just going on with your work. Sometime around three AM, when you throw your pen down in exhaustion and stretch the tension out of your muscles, you notice him passed out in your bed, thrown haphazardly over the comforter. You find a throw and toss it over him, watching him shift and murmur your name sleepily. Warmth floods your cheeks, and you retreat to the couch quickly after that.
“I fucking hope you’re happy with him, John Egbert! No wonder your pansy ass never satisfied me- goddamn cocksucker.”
It’s something brilliant to wake up to, you think, the sound of Vriska screeching. She’s pounding on the door, and you’re groggily stumbling from the couch. No way John can hear her- he’s at the back of the apartment, behind the closed door of your room. “What the fuck d’you want-”
“You!” Hands slam into your chest and you barely catch yourself, grabbing onto the doorknob.
“Calm down you crazy bitch!” She fumes at you, hissing between her teeth.
“You probably thought I never saw the way you looked at him, huh? Did you convince him to do it? Tch.” You can’t help it- an embarrassed flush comes to your cheeks. There’s a noise down the hall, and John stands at the end, tiredly rubbing his eyes and standing half-in, half-out of your doorway. Vriska’s eyes spark in anger.
“Dave? Something going on?” He can’t see her around you- besides, he doesn’t even have his glasses.
“Well shit, Strider! You sure work fast! Did you already fuck him?!” You gape softly, even as she hisses the words. Usually you’d be able to fire off a retort, but you’re in a very sticky position here.
“Vriska?” John squeaks.
“Damn right it’s me! Oh, I’m sorry; did I catch you with your new fuck-buddy? I do apologize, don’t let me intrude!” Her tone in patronizing as ever and you stand awkwardly between them as she yells. John makes a confused spluttering sound.
“It’s really not what you think-”
“Don’t even bother.” She throws a glance at you. “I’m sure it’s everything he’s ever wanted.” You are officially ruined with these words, and you watch wordlessly as she stalks out.
It’s quiet for a long time, as you stand in the doorway, hand tight on the doorknob. The truth behind her words is obvious in the silence. Then-
“Dave?”