Work Text:
You are a woman on a mission. (And no, that is not the queue to burst into song.)
The mission?
Make Dave Strider pay.
After a certain incident in the hallway about a few weeks ago, you are seriously confused. And annoyed, but that’s kind of your default state. It would appear that your massive crush on Dave Strider wasn't as big of a secret as you initially thought, if what Dave said was anything to go by...
But the question is this… what are you supposed to do about it now? Frankly, you have no idea if Dave likes you back, if he just likes the fact you have a crush on him or is simply an enormous troll. You're inclined to believe it's the latter, but evidence suggests that it's a mixture, at least of the second and third. Needless to say, being in the dark about this is driving you crazy...you do have a life outside of school, of course, and you know that Dave is just some obnoxious jerk who isn’t worth your time…but it doesn't help your case that Dave seems to be everywhere, like a goddamn ghost. Plus, you want –deserve- answers.
Obviously, something has to be done. You have to find out just what the hell Dave was doing, and more importantly, you have to make him suffer for being such an insufferable little tease.
Stage One:
Ignore Dave completely.
You can do this, but it takes willpower. The thing is, you know that Dave will assume that you have wounded pride over the 'hallway incident', and that's why you're keeping your distance. True, that plays a part in your little scheme, because it was so embarrassing letting Dave know just how hot and bothered he can make you, if he wants to, but it's a red herring. You want Dave to think that, because that way, Mr. I Am Too Cool For Your Drama will be taken totally by surprise.
How delightful.
So you freeze him out. If you are talking with Karkat, John or anybody that Dave regularly socializes with, you clam up and find convenient excuses to vanish if his blonde head makes an appearance. You don’t sit anywhere near him at lunch (not that you did in the first place), and if you’re in any lessons with him, you either spend time talking with the people you’re sitting near or just pretend to be super-interested in the class…which is kind of hard, since sometimes you get so bored you feel like your brain has taken a brief leave of absence, but you are nothing if not persistent.
You keep this up until you deem it’s lasted long enough- when other people start to comment on it.
“What’s up with you and that blonde fuckass?” Karkat asks you one lunchtime, a frown marring his features. (Jade keeps telling him that he’ll get premature wrinkles that way).
“Who?” you asks, airily, taking a pointed sip of your drink.
“Dave motherfucking Strider.” Karkat clarifies, rolling his eyes at your supreme idiocy for not knowing that straight off the bat. “Whenever he shows up anyway, suddenly, you vanish.”
You shrug.
“Hadn’t really noticed.”
Karkat doesn’t look like he believes you, but he is soon dragged into a different conversation and forgets about your non-existent love life. Coming from Karkat, who thinks he’s the authority on romances, requited and otherwise (despite his pretty appalling track record in that department), you’ve dodged a real bullet. You can’t have him going off and ruining all your plans, can you?
You smirk into your drink.
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Stage Two:
"Accidentally" tease him.
This is where you're preparing for battle.
You are in a skirt.
This might not seem like such a big deal, but you're about to do something totally out of your comfort zone. All because of Strider. Damn him and his face.
Currently, you're in class, writing down some hard-as-fuck diagrams at a rapid pace. You're actually pretty proud of how you're able to keep up with what the teacher is droning on about- John is asleep on the table and drooling slightly onto his book, probably dreaming of Nick Cage.
You poke him idly with the rubber side of your pencil, before quickly scribbling a quick doodle in the corner of your notebook. You're not paying much attention to what you're drawing, just concentrating on filling in the expanse of white as best you can without being called out for not paying attention.
Smirking quickly, a brief upward flicker of your lips, you hold up your pencil, which is blunted and unusable. Pretending to be irritated by this, you haul yourself to your feet, the leg of your chair squeaking gratingly across the linoleum floors as you head towards the bin, pencil sharpener in hand. You notice Dave removes his hand from beneath his chin, and even with his trademark sunglasses on (it's a testament to how smooth he is that even the teachers have pretty much just given up trying to make him take them off. Rumor has it his brother took it upon himself to threaten a couple of people), you know he's looked up at you.
Perfect.
Oh, my.
You appear to have dropped your pencil on the way to sharpen it! How clumsy of you! Obviously, you must pick that up! ...Yeah, you don't even sound convincing at being coy in your own mind, but you're pretty that Dave can't read minds. (Or John, or Karkat, or any of your friends, for that matter, because if they heard you talking like this, you'd never live it down.) But it's time to get Step 2 properly in motion.
So, giving a characteristic angry grunt of annoyance, you bend at the waist, and feel the stretchy fabric of your skirt slide slightly up your legs, just a couple of inches, but just enough so that Dave, if he's looking as you hope, can just see the your underwear, which is a particularly pretty pair, and has lace stitched along the legs and waistband.
You would like to play up this ditzy persona for shits'n’giggles, but Dave will get suspicious. You can't have him having a one-up on you, not this time.
Straightening up, acting as if you don't know that you've just presented a visual that's just short of a cheap porno, you stride (no pun intended) over to the bin and sharpen your pencil with a few flicks of your wrist, inhaling the smell of discarded sharpening’s to calm yourself down.
When you turn back around and walk back to your seat, Dave's face is, as usual, totally impassive. But you swear that you see him swallow.
Oh, he is so screwed.
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Stage Three:
Give Strider a taste of his own goddamn medicine.
This one is going to be tricky, but you'll be damned if you give in now.
Firstly, you have to find Dave alone. This is harder than it sounds because, even when he isn't surrounded by a crowd of giggling girls (and the occasional boy), then he's with John or Rose or Jade or some other random person. That time in front of your locker was a rare occurrence, so it's been difficult to figure out how to corner him without making it look like you're cornering him. It's a goddamn conundrum, is what it is.
But apparently, fate agrees with you that Dave must pay, or perhaps you've just gotten into the habit of coincidental timing, because a few afternoons after the skirt manoeuvre, you nearly fall over in shock when you see Dave in the library. Of course, he has headphones in, sunglasses on and seems to be in a world of his own as he types away on a school laptop. He doesn't have his own with him- presumably so it doesn't get stolen, since his stuff is expensive and usually top of the line. But, what with it being a school computer and all, he won't mind if he's pulled away from it for a little while.
The library is mostly empty- most people have gone home, so there are a few people flitting between bookshelves, looking a little bored, but Dave has chosen a somewhat secluded spot to do work on (or whatever it is that he's doing), so you gather up your nerve and stalk across the room.
Dave glances up to see you at the printer, tucking some sheets of paper (that are blank, but he can't see that from this distance, especially not with shades on) into your bag, blowing hair out of your face. You accidentally-on-purpose glance over your shoulder, then pretend to be surprised (and annoyed) to see him there.
"Oh, it's you." you say, sounding almost disgusted, setting your bag surreptitiously on the table next to you.
Dave chuckles slightly, and the sound makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.
"The one and only." he says, and even coming out of his mouth, he sounds unbearably smug.
"You know, you have some fucking nerve." you tell Dave, walking towards him with a single minded comin’-atcha attitude.
Because, although this overly-hostile thing is currently an act, you can't deny that underneath the confusion and frustration that you felt after Dave left you standing in the hall, you can't deny that you're hoping that he wasn't just messing with you. Because as annoying as you find Dave, you do still have feelings for him, and nobody likes being lead on. So it's all too easy to keep up the exaggerated charade of hating him, even though you'd quite like to run your fingers through his hair and kiss his stupid, smirky mouth. But another side of you would like to slap him.
"So I've been told." Dave says, popping his ear-buds out as you stand over him, glaring, and scoots his chair back slightly so he can rock it back on two legs and prop up his legs, just to look like a rebel, presumably.
"That doesn’t come as surprise." you snap, walking closer to him, even though your veins are positively humming in excitement. You thrust a finger into his face. “But guess what, Strider?”
“I feel like even if I don’t guess, you’re still gonna tell me.” Dave says.
“I’m not going to tell you anything,” you reply, smugly. Hey, two can play at that game. “I’m gonna show you.”
Dave arches an eyebrow. Sometimes, you wonder if Dave picked up all his Cool Kid tics from some kind of step-by-step guide to being an Insufferable Prick.
“Show me-?”
You lean down before Dave can finish his sentence, pressing your lips to his, as you’ve been wanting to do for weeks now.
His lips taste like Coke and kissing him is electric. He responds almost instantly, putting a hand on your cheek and kissing you back. You want to shut your eyes and sink into the moment of this, but you have to keep your mind on the goal. But it’s so hard with the fizzing, exciting feeling that’s shooting from your lips and through your circulatory system, like you’ve been given a poke with a Taser, only instead of pain, there’s ecstasy. Perhaps it’s because you’ve been thinking of this for longer than you’d care to admit, like a starving person waiting to have a meal, and when they do, it’s the best food that they have ever tasted. He is a feast and you softly growl in approval, eliciting one in reply from the Cool Kid.
You tilt your head to suck on Dave’s collarbone, and in your enthusiasm you bite him slightly, but he doesn’t seem to mind in the least. It’s kind of cramping your back to lean forward like this, so you perched on the edge of the desk, your knees bumping his. The computer sits behind you, forgotten.
Dave leans forward, pressing his lips to your neck and sucking on it, very likely giving you one hell of a hicky.
His hands slide around your waist, nearly hugging you to him as he sits upright, fingers tickling your bare skin where your shirt ends and shorts begin. He runs his hands down your bare legs and you feel a tingling from where his fingers leave invisible lines. You feel like your whole body is responding to this, as if he is magnetic. It tickles a little, Dave running his hands on your legs, giving the inside of your thigh only the briefest of touches, but you feel like his fingers are branding you with their own special heat. You sigh out of your nose and Dave cocks his head.
He peers at you from behind his shades, a smirk decorated his lips as he decides to up his game in.
“You’re sexy.” He whispered, matter-of-factly, and your breath catches somewhere in your windpipe. “Let me feel more of you.”
Dave's hands, warm to the touch, slide up your shirt, the skin of his palms coarse against the soft skin of your belly, which makes you suck it in, on reflex. You rarely ever get touched there and your skin is sensitive, especially when it’s him. Dave snickers slightly. His hands continue to touch- they slide up, up, up, until they hit your bra. Burrowing beneath the underwire, his fingers artfully cup your bare breasts and you have to literally bit your lip to keep yourself from keening out loud. Dave smirks as his hands begin to gently massage your breasts, skilfully kneading the tender flesh, flicking the tips of his index fingers over each nipple. You're nearly panting, but you force yourself to concentrate. He leans in and presses a kiss to the synapse of your breasts and you nearly squeal as he gives the skin there just the tiniest of nips. The minor twinge of pain juxtaposes against the pleasure deliciously.
Dave is currently the one in charge, and you'll be damned if it stays that way.
You lean down and kiss him fiercely, sliding your tongue into his mouth, no fucking around. Dave grunts softly in the back of his throat and you smirk against his lips. Slowly, you sink onto his thigh, straddling it, feeling his leg pressing against the apex of your thighs, and grind a little against him. Your hands creep up the back of his T-shirt, nails digging into the firm skin there. Dave hisses gently as you drag your nails down his back- not too hard, but hard enough to leave thin, white lines where your nails were and you snort in glee. You wriggle a little more, clenching your thighs around his leg, pressing into him and giving him a flirtatious smirk.
By now, Dave is nearly panting, and you can feel exactly how excited he is, as you are being poked in the thigh, and not by his hands.
Slowly, agonizingly slowly, you hand drifts towards his zipper, giving it a little yank, and you hover your mouth above his, giving him another kiss, before shifting and moving it across his cheek, your breath hot on his face.
"Two can play at that game, Strider." you hiss into his ear. “Sike!”
And by god, the gobsmacked expression on Dave's normally-stoic face tastes so fucking delicious that you can barely contain yourself- if this got any more perfect, you'd be clapping your hands and jumping up and down with glee like an excitable child.
Calm as you please, you haul yourself off his thigh, pick up your back and slung it over your shoulder and then, on a sudden burst of inspiration, reach forward and pat his cheek, condescendingly. Dave is still sitting there, looking out-of-breath and considerably rumpled, like he’s just run around the entire school before collapsing into the chair he is in.
Without another word, you strut out of the library, swinging your hips just to rile him even further, and vanish out of the door and into the sunlight, laughing to yourself. Man, you are GOOD.
Dave, after a few moments of stunned silence, slowly reaches up and smooth’s his hair back from his face and rises to his feet, slipping his hands into his pockets as he observes the doorway, almost thoughtfully, before a dark little smirk lights his face.
“Challenge accepted, babe.”