Chapter Text
At the twins’ birthday party, you are so freaking excited to celebrate.
13 is a huge number to go on after all.
Last year’s party wasn’t bad... Dave and Rose loved it! And all the guests cheered with ohhs and ahhs when you tossed up dozens of cupcakes up in the air so that Dave’s Bro could slice them in half. You were pretty amazed when your Dad didn’t fall to his knees and scream about the cruelty of the world.
All he did was smile gently and talk about what pastries were supposed to do to the world; make people happy.
All you did was nod and toss another little home-wrecker at Bro’s face. Mom Roxy had really loved that, and seeing her dark lipped laugh had Dad looking happier than ever.
And after all the guests had left, the 5 of you had a mini cake battle in the year. Resulting in frosting in horrible places, a bloody nose, five showers, learning Rose had better aim than you thought, and half a month of cleaning the backyard and the back side of the house.
This year however, Dad and Mom Roxy just planned the usually thing: party, friends, family, and cake. So much cake.
So you know it’s the presents that are going to be the eye-popper.
Thing is, you have no idea what it might be. Obvious precautions from Dad and Roxy. They don’t want you ratting to Rose and Dave about whatever it might be.
“So, I’m just as oblivious as they are,” you tell Jade through the phone.
“Heehe, well geez John! Sounds like things are going great over there.”
You’ve been on the phone for a little over 40 minutes. You should probably be getting back and enjoy the rest of the party... but Jade. The girl has been your only friend until recently and she may not be blood, but your bonds with her are just as strong as that of a sister.
“Even though they’re made out of suppressed emotions half the time and mysterious coolkid vibes the next, Dave and Rose really like all of this, believe it or not! I don’t think they ever got lots of b-day parties before. I’m thinking they were both too stubborn to ask their parents for one. They’re like donkeys.”
“Was it ‘cause of their parents being separated?”
Dave lived with Dirk most of the time here in Texas, while Rose stayed with Roxy in New York for most of the school year. Maybe they didn’t want to put pressure on them to get together just to throw them a party.
“Maybe. It might be the reason. But anyways, did you get your present? I tried sending it as soon as I could! I’m sorta bummed it didn’t get to you yesterday.”
You can practically see your cousin’s grin, her front teeth bulging ovrer her lip. “I actually got it this morning! And oh my gosh, John. I love it! It’s soooo cute! I put it on my bed!”
It’s your turn to grin. “Ahhh…the sacred throne! I’m honored!”
“Hahaha! Shut up John! Or else the cute knitted bunny is moving to the top of the dresser!” A horrified gasped is ripped from your mouth.
“Punish the father, Jade! Not the child!”
She’s just about to reply when there’s a soft knock on the door.
Moving from your bed, you speak to Jade, “I gotta go Jade. The party needs it’s animal or else nothing is going to happen.”
She snorts, replying back something about hanging around with Dave too much and says bye.
You open the door and smile widely at Kanaya. She smiles back, her heart-shaped lips curling upward. Soft dark brown hair curls around her cheeks and blends perfectly with the brown sugar color of her skin.
“Hello John. Rose wanted to know if it was time for the presents.” You snap you fingers at the words, eyes going to look at the time on your phone. Almost 6. Talking to Jade certainly made time race by.
“Yeah! Of course! Where is she right now?”
Kanaya smiles, eyes sparkling. “She is currently outside with Dave, debating the practical uses of nail polish while people place bets on who will be first to yell.” You hear the sounds of a smothered giggle as you rummage through your nightstand for the two boxes.
Even in midwinter in Texas, the weather is weird. For the last few days, it’s been nothing but chilly as an ice cube, but all of a sudden, the sun creeps out and shines brightly enough to keep the temperature at 70, yet the wind makes it feel like 65.
The party was moved outside an hour ago because Bro commented on how stuffy it was getting inside the house with so many people. Then Dad looked like he had a vision of claustrophobic people in his living room. So, that was that.
Trying not to roll your eyes, you say that it would be interesting to see who would raise their voice first. These are the Lalonde-Strides you’re talking about. Shouting doesn’t come naturally to them. Mom Roxy can be loud, but nothing close to screaming at a whim.
“Oh I agree whole heartedly.”
“Hehee, who’d you bet on?”
Suddenly her jade eyes flicker around the room, her hands grip one another at her back. Almost shyly, she says, “Dave.” She has a rather prideful look on her face and you nod but....
“You’re kidding! As much as Rose has control, she snaps when someone pushes her buttons! And who can do that better than Dave? Seriously Kanaya?”
That starts your own debate with Kanaya, jokingly giving reasons and examples to why and why not who would scream their head off. You offer her a water bottle when you pass by the kitchen, knowing that everything outside is juice or soda. She accepts then goes on to ask what you got Rose and Dave.
After you tell her, she nods, impressed if you say so yourself, and both of you stay in the kitchen, getting a last minute cup of fruit. Placing the presents on the counter, you hurry to eat the fruit inside (Dad is weird about plain fruits) but Kanaya wrinkles her fine boned nose at the mess you’re making.
“Take your time, John. I’m sure a nothing dramatic will happen in a few minutes.”
You talk to her and eat the fruit in the kitchen, glowing with smugness when you got her to laugh at a joke up. That is, until you hear a shrill voice that could make milk cur.
You stand up straighten and turn just in time to see Nepeta in a long sleeved dress arm in arm with Terezi with her blue jacket and funky eyeglasses. Her walking stick is in her hand and she twirls it around, cackling in that tone of hers. Karkat is walking behind them, grumpy frown probably placed there by Ms. I Must Put My Tongue On Everything.
It can be plainly said that you hate Terezi Pyrope. And not because she’s best female friends with Dave, your best friend. Nope. Well maybe a little bit, but she’s the master at crawling under your skin and nibbling on what’s under, and you like to think that you’re a perfectly reasonable guy.
“Hey Nepeta, Karkat!” The greeting is cheery and comfortable. You’ve always liked Nepetea. She may come off as kind of hyper or over the top at times, but that’s only ‘cause she’s so passionate about her... ships. It’s sorta like you and Cage, the master of awesome acting and heroism.
“Hiya John!”
“Egbert.” You fail to see Karkat’s twitchy hands and pinking face.
You pause, instead noticing the blind girl’s twisting grin. “Hi Terzei.” It’s a lot less enthusiastic.
“Well, well, well. Hello Johnny-boy. How’s it been? Haven’t seen you all day.” Argghhh. Her voice.....
You realize how actually demented that last part was but chose to ignore it as Kanaya says hi. After everyone has greeted each other, you glance at Karkat. He looks embarrassed for some reason, but frankly you think to leave that alone and ask Nepeta what they were doing inside.
There’s a bout of screaming from outside but you don’t mind it. Sounded like they were having fun though.
“Karkitty,” oh yes the cat puns have begun, “got cold, so Terezi decided she could come in too, so I offered to help her.” Her light green eyes shot at Karkat for a second before returning to look at you and Kanaya.
“Yes. A delicate flower such as me can’t stay too long in cold weather.”
You force down the laughter.
Delicate flower, your butt.
When all of you were 12, you saw her personally beat down Gamzee when he lost his shit over something. You still have the picture of this skinny girl standing over a fallen, busy haired Gamzee in your brain.
There’s a flicker in the air and you catch the sight of a quarter sailing up then back into Terezi’s open palm. Her ginger hair, a lighter hue than Karkat’s, sways around her freckle-less face as she grins widely. “If I can get heads on this, can I go lie down on your couch?”
Again, argh.
“You can go and lay down if you want.” You aren’t going to deny the blind chick a resting spot. No matter how much she probably doesn’t deserve it.
The half eaten fruit cup sits in your hand but you no longer have the need to gobble down the syrup covered pears and peaches. You put the fruit in the fridge, and Karkat argues with her to do just that. Nepeta urges him not to blow up.
“C’mon Karkles, this is simple insurance. If John here thinks he can just toss me off, I’d have perfectly reasonable backup.” You pretend not to hear that nickname. Karkat obviously doesn’t like it, so why does she have to call him that? Her rude habits have gotten Dave acting like he has no brain in his thick skull.
Ah... there’s a headache. You manage a smile even though she can’t see it and say through teeth, “Flip the coin, Terezi.”
She giggles and with a flick of her thumb, it flies upward. You stare at it as it almost kisses the ceiling then as it retreats to her hand. She closes the hand at once and flips it over to the back of her other hand. The red walking stick wobbles a little when she uncovers the coin.
“Heads,” Kanaya peers down at it and announces, a refined eyebrow slipping up.
“Sorry John, looks like it wasn’t your time.” You think you see her wink under those red tinted lenses.
You could care less. Really you care so less that you have no care.
“Try not to drool too much on it.”
“Gross, John.”
The tension in the air is thick. Nepeta is toying with the wool fingerless gloves on her hands, Karkat looks like he swallowed a lemon thinking it was a cherry, however, it is Kanaya that intervenes. “If the three of you will excuse us, I do believe we were wanted outside.”
By the time the two of you escape, the rest of the party outside, it looks like the twins are sitting at a table, hair very disheveled and clothing very wrinkled. Rose’s black lipstick is just as smudged at the scruffy content of her equally black pencil skirt and pale purple coat. Dave is no better in his black coat, the neon buttons blue.
Everyone else is in the middle of a good laugh.
Next to them, Dad is shaking his head, tiny smile on his mouth, fedora in his lap as Mom Roxy hoots and pounds the table with a fist. Bro is standing next to Dad, arms crossed over his broad chest and blowing a huge bubblegum bubble.
You and Kanaya glance at each other for a second before making your way towards them. At the sight of the two of you, Rose flushes and groans, head moving away, hands pulling at her headband, while Dave, face scrunched up, hurries to straighten his hair and outfit, face burning red.
Kanaya leaps at Rose, her face a coat of worry. Rose borrows deeper in her hands. “What happened?” you question bluntly, looking from each of the adults. The laughter of the rest of the guests bounces in the background.
The question restarts Roxy’s laughter and Dad just sighs lightly so you look to Bro’s shaded eyes for a response. He loudly pops his gum and looks down at you.
“Lil’ shits were startin’ to disrespect each other and I didn’t want one of them cryin’,” he comments, head pointingly in Dave’s direction. Your best friend’s frown deepens, looks away, and continues to fix his hair, pulling out grass from the blonde tresses. “So, I picked them up and flung them around for some.”
Oh my God. Don’t laugh. You’ll look like a douche.
Oh who are you kidding?! This is certainly the time to look like a douche.
Douche out, John.
“Hahhahahahahahah! No- no way! Did an- anyone hahahah ta-take any p-pictures—ahhahah! I need to see hahah this!” You are going to pee your pants for real!
“John, you as--” Dave doesn’t finish that thought as someone else came onto the scene to your excitement and to his horror.
“I’m guething that would be me then.” You open your eyes and push the tears out of them long enough to see a tall guy around your age come next to you. You catch a look at his glasses and grin up at him. He’s almost a head taller than you. “It’th a video though.”
You notice it.
In his hand is an iPhone, opened up to the camera roll. You gasp and reach for it, instantly pressing play on a single video, thank Sollux, and focus on the video.
In the background, you hear Rose and Dave hissing like snakes but it’s no use getting it from you. Roxy and Kanaya crowd around you. Dad stays where he is and Bro isn’t in the group, but you know he’s standing guard, keeping his kids from strangling you and taking the phone.
The video starts out like how you think it would. Both Dave and Rose standing in front of each other, smirk painted on each other’s faces until the conversation shifts from the pros and cons of nail polish to something that sounds odd. Still polish, but odd.
Something about whether the color cerulean and how it out look on Dave’s hands…? Whatever the heck that is, your best friend gets snappy.
“Don’t matter if the person is happy with the color, or the color with the person, bitchy gossips are be a whispering how that shade is messed up and doesn’t go with the croptop of the day,” Dave comments, arms crossed. His fingers dig into the sleeve of his coat.
And on it went for several minutes... You have no idea what any of it means.
In the video, Rose tilted her a head to the side, a deep calculated smile on her face as Dave is telling her where she can go and who ask for confirmation on being a bitch when Bro jumps into the shot. He easily yanks the kids away from each other, picking up Rose and throwing her up in the air. While her screams fades as she goes up. Dave is already starting to run when Dirk grabs him around the collar and repeats the same thing.
Dave screams just as loud as Rose did, cracking voice fading at the end due to his direction in the air. As soon as Dave goes up, (how high? You don’t know, but they disappear from the screen) Rose is hurdling down, and Dirk catches her perfectly. She clings to him like a watered down cat, shakes her head so hard, you think she might have gotten whiplash.
Dirk actually fucking smiles, and you think that he’s done, but no. He flings her up again, scream the same as before. And like the same as before, Dave falls back down into his dad’s strong arms. You can hear him croak out in a hushed tone, “Bro... Bro... No... Bro...”
Holy. Shit.
“Holy thit.” It comes from the phone and the lisp tells you that Sollux had very similar feelings about all of this.
His dad does the same smile but this time you know the punishment isn’t going to end so soon. Dave is tossed up again and Rose comes down. This is repeated about 2 more times until it’s over.
Dirk first sets Rose on the grass gently, tenderly placing her head on the ground, and catches Dave in the same manner and laying him down as he did Rose.
They both look green and Dad races to them, Roxy at his heels, asking them if they’re ok. Mom Roxy shakes her head and bends down next to them.
Rose sounds constipated. “Perfect.”
“Rosy, baby, Mama needs to kick Bro’s ass right?”
The camera pans up to a frowning Dirk, his feet moving slightly awkward.
“I’ma... peachy. Dadbert... get your –face outta my space.”
Dad looks devastated. “The boy is delusional! He never calls me anything but my name!”
At least not to his face.
The rest of the video is an explosion of laughter and the sight of Dave and Rose standing up on fawn legs, moving to the table you first saw them at.
“Everything happened in a few minutes,” Kanaya murmurs, taking the words out of your head, but you’re sure you’re the only one to hear any of it.
Dad stands up clears his throat. “I think it’s time we cut the cake and open presents.” You’re probably the only one who groaned when mostly everyone else cheered for the aspect of cake.
_+_
Once the torture of swallowing down slices of vanilla (Rose) and chocolate cake (Dave) is finished killing your stomach, the gifts get passed around inside the house.
The Lalonde-Strider kids sit on the couch, you besides Dave, Mom Roxy next to you, and Kanaya and Dad next to Rose.
Bro is out towards the back, arms crossed again and leaning on the wall. Despite the distance he’s put between him and the twins, there’s a genuine smile on his face.
They open their presents one by one (you are pleased to see that Dave barely cracks a smile at Tezeri’s giant sour apple gummy bear), getting a grand sort of things.
Money, CDs, DVDs, perfumes, books, posters, signed autographs, headphones, clothes, shoes, food, and a camera and a thick leather bound book.... So that’s what Dad and Mom Roxy’s presents were.
Even though the other presents were great, you can see it in their faces that Rose and Dave are in love with the gifts they have just been given.
Roxy highfives Dad over your heads and lets out a WOOP of mission accomplished.
Rose blankly stares at the book, an unknown language written on the cover along with a thin lined picture of a monster...a monster that strangely looks like the one from her poster. Her purple nails gently brush against the cover, feeling, yet consumed by doing so.
The camera is from a great brand name, the kind you’ve seen Dave flip through magazines and eBay for, only to wince at the price. He’s clutching the box tightly, suddenly tearing through the it to see the actual camera.
You laugh out loud, half of the guests cheering after Dave as he opens the box and takes out the camera. It’s black and slick and everything you could’ve wanted him to have.
“Yo, munchkins! Find my present inside of that,” Bro shouts across the room. The crowd urges them on as Dave and Rose look through both of their presents, each coming upon a slip of paper, orange handwriting scrawled diagonally on it.
A BRO FREE DAY COUPON
Dad looks super confused, asking Roxy if she put those in. You smile when she shrugs, grinning at Bro then softening the express on her face as Rose and Dave shared smiles.
There’s more laughs at that. Everyone thinks it some kind of cute thing their dad did, yet you think it’s more legitimate than what most people are thinking of. When it’s their turn at Bro’s place, you’re constantly getting calls from Dave and Rose to cure the boredom and suffering they’re undertaking at his sword-worn hand.
Dave holds the piece of paper Bro gave him like its gold.
The presents were so good. No wonder they wanted to keep it from you, even though you know you’re a great secret keeper and have all the self-control of a trained Buddhist monk. You held back from slipping hints to Dave about his present when he asked—
Your present.
For Dave.
And Rose.
Where did you leave those things? You get up abruptly, earning you a look from Dave. “Where are you going? Spotlights on me, bud, you need to bask in what little lights touches your ass.”
Why can’t you remember?
The impression on your face has him frowning. “Uh, Egbert? What the heck is wrong with your face? I specifically remember it being not as traumatized looking.”
He’s looking a touch worried about you, and while that warms your heart for unknown and startling reasons, you need to think about where you left the presents.
You smother your face in your hands to mask your pained moan. Which is a real bad thing to do when you have glasses on.
“John?” Dave asks, closer than before.
Don’t let him get all bummed out on his birthday!
The moment his hand touches the white sleeve of your shirt, you spring up, face contorted into a goofy mask, and yelling “Gotcha!” over the noisy rumbles of the conversations taking place.
He jumps back and jaw unhinged, probably wide eyed behind the sunglasses, a split second before pushing your face away with the palm of his hand. “You’re such a spaz, Egderp.”
“Oh man, you should’ve seen the look on your face, Dave! Mr.Coolkid got a surprise!”
He retaliates, but you’re mentally giving yourself a pat on the back and a slap to the face.
Presents, presents, presents.
Your stomach makes some gargled whine and you try not to cringe from it. It must’ve been the cake you swallowed down. Couldn’t have been the fruit cup from earlier....
In the kitchen. On the counter. Presents.
“I- uh. I need to go...” You cut Dave off mid-ramble, leaping off the couch and jerking a finger in a random direction. Not bothering to hear what he has to say, you’re racing to the kitchen and immediately come across the two small boxes next to the sink.
Yes!
You scuttle around from of the party-goers and grab them. You’re back at the couch in no less than 2 mintues.
“Dave! Rose! Happy birthday!” And there the gifts go... At last....
Rose smiles at you, thanking you for the box in her lap, and moving to unwrap it.
Dave smirks at you. “You didn’t have to go to the trouble for little old me. I am, after all, just your best bro in the universe. There’s a no presents needed agreement in the print, you know.”
“Dave, stop talking. Right now. And open the stupid box. Right now.” He does just that.
There’s a lot of things you wanna say to him, to the both of them, but you feel too awkward, too shy, to actually open your mouth and tell them what’s thumping along in your head.
“Oh John...” Rose gets to her gift first, pulling out the large ball of purple yarn and the crafted needles. “I love it.” The grin is already tugging at your mouth, taking up most of the room on your face. You move in for a hug and you two hug it out over Dave.
Who’s oddly quiet actually. Hmmm…
For Dave's present, you decided on a new pair of sunglasses even though it’s obvious how totally rad you think Dave's eyes are without anything covering them. How red his eyes are surrounded by pretty, blonde lashes--
Hm.
You figure that with Dave new mindset on 'becoming his own person' was actually going to happen, you’d help out.
So you’ve gotten Dave some Ben Stiller shades. The Ben Stiller shades that cost you 1/3 of the money you’ve been saving since forever.
It’s so worth it. 13 is a big number. And mowing all those lawns in the hot as balls Texan heat was also worth seeing Dave's ears turn a cheery red after opening the box.
You beam outwardly, truly looking like the pleased present master himself, while on the inside; your heart is hammering, you think it’s going to burst from some kind of cracked-induced apprehension pumping through it.
Dave looks up at you, face probably unreadable to lots of people; you can make out most of it: shock weaving into his sharpening jaw line, the amazement stitching a bit of his brows together, and of course, the crimson bleeding through the tips of his ears.
You can’t make yourself wipe the delight from your sloppy grin.
That look on his face alone is worth every dime, blood, sweat, and grandmotherly old women offering you stale cookies in payment.
For a moment, both of you can only stare at each other; each too brimming with emotions to speak until, "Oi! Watch it boys, Texas don’t care ‘bout that fancy new law up north, gays can't marry here. That there’s the devil's workins, that is."
Thank you, Dirk.
The laughter settles over everyone with Dave’s snarky comeback making up most of the reason why.
Its joke, everyone understands that. Yet...
Yet.
You wish... You think...there might’ve been some inking of truth in that...
You spend the rest of the party betting with yourself on how many times you can stare at Dave without him catching you.
_+_
It’s about a week before your own birthday, but you’re not thinking about that.
Right now, you are too busy beating Dave’s ass in Mario Kart.
“How the hell am I supposed to do anything with Yoshi’s pump rump taking up most of my screen, John?”
You laugh, thumbs flashing all over your controller to keep your place in front of him. “Oh I don’t know, Dave. Why don’t you try this time?” The burn is scorching and you know this. Yes.
There’s something flying into your line of sight, a stiff sock, and it’s sad to say, you scream like a toddler and flinch, almost dying by falling back into Dave’s pile of…mass. You don’t know what that thing consists of, but you’re sure as hell not going to find out today.
You shift as you fall, taking your chances by skimming your head with the bedpost instead.
But you’re too concerned with what’s happening on TV to run a hand through your possibly bleeding head for any wounds. A gasp flies from your mouth, eyes seeing Princess Peach taking her spot ahead of you, tossing back a turtle shell as she does so.
No way. No fucking way.
“Fuck you Dave!” you groan, kicking a foot at his knee, slamming buttons to try to get back your first place status.
Dave snorts loudly. Outside the closed door, you can hear the distance sound of Dad and Mom Roxy tending to the garden out in the backyard in the late afternoon light. Rose is probably in her room, conquering dark spirits or something. There’s some faint music coming from the direction of her room.
“You forgot to say ‘Uh no Dave, that’s gay, and uh, no homo bro.’ You forfeited the right to say fuck you to any guy the first time you actually said no fucking homo.” His voice went hideously high in his imitation of you, and you personally feel offended. Your voice has changed for God’s sake! Kinda. It’s getting there.
Dave’s has though, just as he suddenly caught up to you in height. You still haven’t forgive him for looking you right in the eye and whispering, “You should drink more milk. Squirt.”
Argghhhhhhh.
However, you choose to ignore it altogether and go with, “You sound like Tavros, Dave. Stop. I feel like I have to punch you in the face now.”
He drops a low whistle, leaning back on the side of his bed, hands moving on the controller. His shades, the ones you gave him a couple of months back, rest on his head. In the dim light of the room, you notice how his eyes seem to blaze. Ever since his birthday, those aviators are a definite fixture on his face. Well… most of the time. Whenever you two are alone, he simply slips them on his head.
That makes you really happy for some reason. Lots of things he does made you happy for some reason.
“I sense some serious anger there, dude. Tavros is in a fucking wheelchair, how can you hate that kid? It’s like trying to hate on a puppy or some shit.”
You glare even though he’s focused on the game. Another kick to his leg has him whining and losing his winning spot. Three more laps in this.
“I don’t hate him. I like Tavros… It’s just…” You suddenly feel caught up in a wave of emotions. There aren’t any words that can help you sort through them. Especially when the person asking is the cause of most of them.
So you just say, “Vriska.”
“Spider Bitch? What’s your problem with Spider Bitch? I can beat her up for ya man. No problems there, dude.”
Fingers tighten on your controller and you feel kinda sick. “What? No! I like Vriska, Dave!” I think, you add in your mind.
Dave stops. He really stops, hands going still, and head frozen in the direction of the Princess Peach’s still figure. It last about a second before he’s off back. “You have the hots for Spider Bitch? Is that why you get pissy around Tav? Those two have a weird thing going on.”
You’re quiet for a moment. Vriska is really hot for sure, with tousles of blonde hair, eyes the color of the sea, and ears pierced three times in each. No other girl you know has that many piercings in her ears. She’s defiantly not the kind of girl your Dad hopes you’ll introduce to him one day.
But she can make you laugh and forget some of the feelings someone stirs up in your heart.
“Don’t call her that,” is all that you end up saying.
Her and Tavros do have a weird thing going on, but you really think that’s never going to happen. Tavros is too…him and Vriska’s always talking about how her guy would need to have the balls to make a move on her.
An awkward silence falls over the room by then and it’s only broken by the character’s signature cries when something happens and the game’s background sounds.
“I don’t think she’s a good match for you, John.” From your spot by his bed post, you turn your head to him, chest expanding and filling up with…hope? What is up with that??? “Terezi is always saying how wacko that chick is. Totally nuts, man. More nuts than a heavy handed teenage worker at a Sonic is when he hands you your sundae.”
Of fucking course. Terezi. You slide your tongue over your front teeth, listening with a deflated heart, now filled with discontent.
“And you didn’t know her back then, but in the fourth grade, the chick brought her fucking pet tarantula for show and tell. Sorry Sollux. Little whatsitname got you pissing your pants? Can’t do shit. It’s show and tell day, bitch.”
You nod slowly, passing another lap. “Tell Tezeri to stop gossiping like a hen. Vriska’s cool and if she can’t see that, that’s her loss.” Oops. Blind. Can’t see.
Dave frowns, obviously choosing not to remark on your slipup. “Didn’t you hear what I—What’s with you and TZ? Ever since you’ve been introduced, there’s been nothing but bitchin’ from the two of ya. You serious have a hate boner for her and its makin’ me feel uncomfortable, dude.”
You gag and follow suit in the frowning department. “Hate boner?”
“Ever heard of hate sex?” His brows wiggle like albino worms. It’s a stark contrast to his deadpan facial expression.
Sex of any type with that… girl has you tasting bile in the back of your throat. She’s pretty maybe… But that does not excuse how- how- how she just is, ok. You can’t explain the probing needle that is Terezi Pyrope.
“Gross, Dave. Sick.”
“Hey, the porn makes it look good.”
Yoshi barely makes it pass the load of oil in the road and avoids being thrown in off a cliff.
“You watch that stuff?” you say it casually; eager to move the topic from Terezi, and grimace a second later at how childish you must sound. He’s 13, of course he does.
You might not be 13 yet, but you’ve seen enough of it, amazing, with living in a house with a man like Dad. This might be the reason why you haven’t seen much porn. Yet from what you have seen, it doesn’t look like you’re missing much. The camera work is horrible and the actors and actresses are a shame.
You tell him this and it results in his laughing. Usually you love Dave’s laugh, but now it’s plain annoying. Like he’s laughing at something you don’t know.
“I’m always a little busy with something else to pay attention.” His hands comes up from the controller (a blue beaded bracelet wrapped around his wrist, the twin to the red on your own wrist, “ironic friendship bracelets”, made that New Years) to make a vague pumping motion.
You crash your shoulder into his, laughing and fake gagging. “Way too much information!” It disturbs you that this conversation isn’t disturbing you more.
Dave pushes right back at you, shoving you out of your odd thoughts. Your characters finish the second lap and the third and last lap starts. “Don’t be such a pansy. So you don’t watch porn ‘cause of the shitty film work and you’ve never jerked off? Are you going to tell me next you’ve never been kissed?”
“Pffft! I- I- Pfffffft! W-what--!” Nice stutter, John.
“Fucking knew it. You gotta experiment, Egnerd. It’s how anything gets learned. Listen to Sensei Dave on this.” He says it so surely, you groan. You tell him to shut up but Dave has always had a problem with that. “Not even practiced with all those clown dolls Dadberts has for you? Wasn’t that the point of them—hey!” He doesn’t get to finish that embarrassing sentence. You tackle him.
You tackle him so hard and so good; Grandpa Harley would weep manly tears of joy over this.
“They’re harlequins dolls!” You’re pretty sure you say as a war cry. The controller jumps from your hand, and the one in his goes flying off to the side.
Dave struggles but you’ve been around him enough to know a good choke hold. You laugh in triumph and glory. No wonder Bro always beats him up in their strifes—Why are his fingers in your hair—“Owww!” He yanks surprisingly hard and your grip wavers. It’s enough for him to take advantage and all of a sudden, you’re on the floor, the back of your head brushing against carpet. He holds down you down, hips placed perfectly under yours to restrain you, face smirking like he won the Olympics.
Your arms reach up to his face, more than happy to switch positions, but he grabs each of your hands and pins them on either side of your face.
His face is close. Really close. So close, you can feel the hot puffs of breath on your chin.
Ok……..
You freeze completely, becoming stone under his weight (wow that lankiness turned into lean muscle over the years) and as if sensing it, Dave’s smirking expression slips to become something more sober. His hands drop from your wrists and sits up, looking down at you.
The light from the forgotten TV reflections on the side of his face, and you almost laugh ‘cause Dave is such a white boy. You make a show of kinda squinting from the glare of his snowy skin.
You’re glasses are smudged and askew on your face. Could he take them off for you? You could be able to see him much clearer that way, even with your horrible vision. You note his shades are gone from his head, probably thrown off to the side. You hope they aren’t damaged, he loves those things.
Why are you thinking about his sunglasses? Now isn’t the moment to think about sunglasses.
Focus on his eyes. Yes, like that. Now his lips. Good. Take a good long look. Because you are never going to see them up close and personal like this ever again. You want to though, oh how much you want.
Oh GOD. STOP THINKING ABOUT YOUR BEST BRO’S LIPS.
A moment in your brain passes.
Good, carry on.
“Why you starin’ at me?”
“I think I see your freckles spell ‘loser’,” you utter under your breath. It’s the first thing outta your mouth, and all at once, you feel like you dodged a bullet.
Dave rolls his eyes. “Smooth. How the hell do you think you’ll get any girl with a mouth like that?”
“Eh. I don’t know. Always thought my hilarious jokes would draw them in.”
He scoffs, eyes steady on yours. “You can’t even kiss right…and by that look on your face, I am right as fuck. Girls wanna kiss a guy who can kiss like a god and want to make them squeal and brag to their friends over the phone while drawing hearts around your names.”
Here you make a face, relocating your gaze behind his head to look at the ceiling. “Yap yap yap. That’s all I’m hearing from your mouth right now. Can I call buuuuullshit? Yes, yes I can. Bullshit.”
“I’m trying to help you out, dude.”
“Uh, Dave? I don’t see the ‘help’ with you critiquing my lady skillz. You’re just bragging now.” For a second, you wonder how anyone would react to coming into this room and seeing Dave sitting on top of you. “Next thing you’ll be doing is offering kissing lessons—what’s with that look?!” He’s giving you a pointed look; lips pressed together, a blonde eyebrow pushed up into his hairline.
“You wouldn’t be losing anything if I do, bro.”
Your brain stops working. Wait… did that… just say… that…
“You want to make out?” you blurt out, really freaking out on the inside now.
Dave sighs, putting his hands on his thighs, which are on either side of your hips. In the background, Mario Kart is playing its theme song. “This is all for your benefit, broski. Trust me, I won’t be offering this set of kissable lips to any guy who wasn’t my best bro, John.”
You continue to stare, little crackles coming up from your throat. “Plus, it wouldn’t go against your no homo rule. I’m not gay and you ain’t gay, so I don’t see a knick in that logic, but whatever. Do you wanna finish this game? My girl Peach can kick your scaly ass.” He’s shrugging, looking like he’s about to move away. Suddenly you reach out, hand grasping his shirt.
“You sure this’ll help?” You want a girlfriend. You want a happy girlfriend. You need that more than you ever thought, and if this will do anything for you, you need to take it...
Or at least that’s what you’re telling yourself.
He nods, serious. “After Sensei Dave is done with you, you’ll be fighting girls off with a stick.”
You are seriously going to lose your lip virginity to this loser. Damn. But, does this really count? Your chest feels tight. You want this too. Ok, that thought was really homo.
You can no longer deny there’s maybe (a lot, a lot a lot, like so much) sexual tension on your part, so maybe this should put an end to it. But you don’t think having no air in your lungs has to do with the sexual tension.
“Uh… ok, um. Ok.” You cough, still staring. Dave’s eyes flash and yeah… there’s a hint of red in his face. It highlights his freckles and your hearts feels like a hand reached into your chest and squeezed. “Let me up, I’m not being the bottom in this.” You wave a hand between your bodies to emphasize what you mean. “No homo.”
“Sure, John, whatever.”
He gets off of you as you move away, shifting to put your back against the side of his bed, legs stretched out and hands limp in your lap. Dave crawls over, one knee coming in between your legs. He’s towering over you, but the pounding of your heart is allowing little else to concentrate.
“First things first,” He grabs your chin and tips it up to look for an even sight. “Don’t blank out like that. A chick’s going to expect her dude to stare at her like she’s the last bit of beef jerky in the man cave, got it?” His eyes are intense, bearing down into yours, the air in your lungs stills completely. You give a shaky nod. His hands glide from your chin to cup your cheek. You notice right away at the roughness of them. Must be from all that sword holding.
“When you touch her face, it’s got to be tender and shit.” You get it. The next time he speaks, it’s low and smooth, “And when you talk to her, make it soft and basically what you’d expect outta an asshole with a heart of gold type to say in a cheap romcom.”
After that, it’s your cue for you to push your mouth onto his.
His lips are slightly chapped, but so, so warm. It’s light and airy, and you hold yourself back from sighing, closing your eyes as you do so. The pads of his fingertips are gentle. But they disappear for a moment; taking off your glasses and pushing them off to the side before returning to their place.
Your hands are still limp in your lap, clutched into fists. You feel awkward with them. “Put your hands in my hair or something,” he murmurs over your mouth.
“Was about to do that…” you argue back through the closed lipped kiss. You hands do make their way to his hair, and you finally cure the urge to comb your fingers through the white-blonde locks.
“No you weren’t,” he volleys back.
“Totally was. Stop being a sore loser.” One of his hands stays on your face as the other climbs up to toy with your hair. You gave Dave an idea. What then Dave? What mcfreakin’ then?
“No I’m not,” Dave gripes, and then groans. “Alright.” He moves back. You’re left to blink at him. “You can’t kiss and hold a conversation; it’s stupider than trying to eat in shower. One thing atta time.”
You grumble, swallowing dryly, “Yeah, yeah. You’re the coach.”
Lips meet together again, and this time, it easier, just as sweet and great. You melt into it better and it warms your insides. You’ve never been kissed. Correction. You just have and you gave your first to Dave. Which is fine to you. More than fine. Better than fine. It’s what you want.
It’s what you… want.
You… you…
You’ve stopped reacting to the kiss and turn to ice, ceasing everything, pulling back a little. What was that thought? You actually thought… you… You want this. For real. Oh my God.
Dave follows you back, the tiniest noise coming from his throat. You want to make fun, you totally are despite your inner freakout, when he beats you to talking by saying hoarsely, “You need more practice,” and pressing his lips on yours.
The hand on your face slips to your jaw, drawing slow circles on it, and you whimper this time. “Make it feel good…” You hum in reply, lost in the actions. Something wants more (just a little more) and you open your mouth timidly, unsure, but seeing enough movies, you get an idea of what to do. Your tongue gently touches his closed lips. He doesn’t respond right away, and a dread awakes in you, telling you messed up badly a slip second right before Dave opens up and meets you half way.
You give Dave your third, fourth, sixth… you lose count after all the kisses.
Well now it’s more like making out. And the first thing you learn is that it’s kinda hard.
It’s hard keeping your breathing even and tilting your head just right so that your noses don’t smash into each other. Moving your tongues to explore each other’s mouths is the easiest part, however. Yours glides over teeth and gums, lips moving along to get the right touches. You mostly mimic his movements but since he isn’t adding in any extra commentary, it’s good. So good.
He tastes like the apple pie Roxy bought from McDonalds that morning. You suddenly love apples. You wonder how you taste. You were eating some gushers earlier so maybe…? He’s not gagging so it’s good sign.
“Fuck!” Spoke too soon. “Watch the teeth, John! I’m not one of your fruit gushers. I know I’m man candy but damn.” Dave scowls after you nibble on his bottom lip little too hard. You don’t know if you can blame it on your lack of experience or overbite.
You roll your eyes, and then you dip back together. It’s better this time. Less teeth is better, ok.
You continue to play with his hair, enjoying the texture of softness they leave on your hands.
That’s about when you realize it.
Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckholyfuckingshit.
You have a boner.
It happens a lot more lately. A freaking gust of wind in the right direction can leave you tugging down your shirt in an attempt to hide it. You are suddenly very grateful for the amount of space between your hips and his. Your friend down under would totally bring up some questions. The lack of light should hopefully cover your problem, but never mind that. Please try to forget the boner you have for Dave.
Dave. Dave who is kissing you with way too much zeal. Seriously, is all that tongue totally needed?
You swap enough spit, mostly his, to clone a mixture of the two of you. He pushes up against your lips, tilting your head up a little, and your hands finally fall from his head to his back, grabbing fistfuls of his black shirt. He moans back into your mouth…
Wow… Your heartbeat increases by a thousand. You were not expecting that. You try to forget the amount of tongue you’re sinking in to center on the warmth still living on your insides.
Dave…
You think… you might… lo— Can’t breathe. Yeah, you can’t breathe.
You start to tug on his back, but holy cow. Yeah, now it’s a little like being attacked by an overexcited puppy. He’s too focused on anything to feel your pounding apparently, because he doesn’t let up. He’s super into this.
You make a noise but nothing. Just more tongue. It isn’t until you rip out his hair with your hands that he backs off (just in your line of vision, thankfully) with a whiny, “What?”
You’re about to tell him the what, but… You stare as does he.
Everything about him is so bright in the darkening room (when did it get dark?). From his messy blonde hair, to the flow of blood circling under his skin, to his eyes, pupils blown wide, blocking out the red, and to his red, swollen mouth. The saliva from your kissing smeared all over his lips, and chin… It shines from the TV’s light.
You must have a similar appearance because his now black eyes watch you in related fascination.
You feel a line of drool slide down the corner of your mouth and you make a face: lips scrunched up, nose wrinkling, and eyes narrowing under the fold of your eyebrows. Dave catches sight of the face and laughs. You wipe the drool with the shoulder of your shirt.
“Calm down with the tongue, Dave. I think I was drowning there for a sec.”
That shuts him up. “Hush. You can’t talk like that to the kissing master.”
“You’re so full of it.”
“Heh.”
He kisses you again, less tongue this time, and you try to soak in every passing second. Your hands can feel right though the back of his shirt, feeling his heartbeat. It’s racing, like yours. Dave smiles through the kiss and you resist laughing.
But then it’s over too soon.
“Dave!” It’s faint.
“Dave!” Closer.
No, just a little longer. Please. You cling to him and kiss him harder. You forgot this was all practice, experimenting, a bro being helpful to get the girl. But you just want him… Why are you so corny?
“John!”
He holds you tighter for some reason, and your lips become more desperate because you know, after this, after this one moment, it’s over.
You kiss and kiss and kiss until Roxy is two steps outside the door.
When she peers inside the bedroom, she finds Dave lying on his stomach, your knee pressed on the small part of his back, twisting his arm behind his back. You’re laughing evilly while Dave grunts and is on a mile long rant about you cheating.
He has his shades back on and so do you with your glasses. Everything is as it should be.
“Heya guys.” She flips the light on and you and Dave groan, he louder than you. “Sorry little vamps, but you,” she points to Dave, “need to go and help me water some plants. And you,” she points a finger at you. “Dad wants to talk about those piano lessons with Dr. S.”
Dave complains, you complain, but Roxy leaves with a wink and a smile and the two of you still, then part. You help Dave up and for a minute, you don’t know what to say. Your blood is still pumping through your ears and you’re half hard.
Turns out, Dave knows what he has to say. “Bros, right?” He’s smiling idly, like nothing really happened.
The smile on your face hurts badly, like someone carved it in. “Of course bros! No homo! Duh!” It really hurts. So much.
He comes in for a fist bump and you give it to him, smile transforming into a toothy grin. You’re going to be sick. “What are bros for if they can’t mack on each other’s faces, right?” you say it easily and start to laugh, walking out behind him.
_+_
Nothing and everything happened, and it’s just as sounds.
It meant nothing to him. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.
The days pass and its nothing. Neither of you ever mention it. It never happens again, it practically didn’t happen. Everything goes back to how it always is.
You don’t cry. You laugh and grin and make jokes and prank. Because it’s nothing.
And as you huddle under the sheets in bed, weeks after your birthday, you clutch the rabbit he gave you. It’s old and worn, but it’s soft and you press it to your cheek. That’s when you cry, little bubbles forming quiet sobs in your throat.
It’s everything.