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Consequence

Chapter Text

Crisp, cold mornings to dull, overcast days were not uncommon in Washington State.

Days like those were regular, were ordinary, where nothing of subsequent interest would occur, other than the sun rising and later setting.
The day a certain young man steps into a small, family-run joke shop could- and most likely will- be deemed one such day.

That is, for anyone other than said boy.

He himself was nothing special; exceptionally bright, and equally forgetful, he was someone you could pass on the street and not bat an eyelid at. Ashen blonde hair (A colour that wasn’t entirely his own, and would frequently need refreshing) cut in a stylish yet practical manner, nothing too flashy or obstructive; Pale, nigh translucent skin stretched across a willowy, slightly muscled and overly tall frame. His face was a little too bony, his nose too Hawk-like, and his lips too thin for him to be considered anything more than pleasingly proportioned.
He was just as common-place as the day he stepped into the joke shop.
It was not his first time visiting the establishment; on the contrary, he’d been in there at least thrice weekly for the past two months, and only of one occasion had he bought something (the first) – in actuality, his reason to be there was not the wares, but something else he had put aside his pride to pursue.

Every visit he would make, he would cycle through the same routine, enter, skulk, and watch the dark haired boy behind the counter avidly.

John (A name he had learnt from the little old lady that occasionally dithered around the back-room) was quite a fascinating young man, by the blonde’s standards at least. For fear of sounding too poetic: Compared to the dull, monotonous world around him, this guy was like a little ray of pure sunshine, hoarded away in some dusty old store with next to no customers. Each day he would pretend to observe their merchandise, and instead would be taking in the check-out boys every mannerism. For the most part the boy would appear to be daydreaming, absentmindedly tapping on the counter-top (Long, precise fingers and large palms - piano players’ hands) and gnawing at his lower lip out of what the other young man assumed was nervous habit. John was two or three inches shorter than he whom frequented his family’s store, making him around average for someone of his age; he would often wear plaid shirts over ratty old t-shirt, and, what appeared to be faded jeans, despite the fact he only on occasion stood; his hair was a something that never changed- a constant rat’s-nest that stuck up in odd clumps and raven-coloured tufts which he’d nigh constantly run his fingers through and flick out of his bespectacled eyes.

It was indeed an average, commonplace day when this particular event took place; to some, it may seem like nothing, inconsequential and none of their business.
But for aforementioned young men, it would have such an effect on both boys’ respective lives that neither would be quite the same again.

Chapter Text

“You know,” Called the reedy, muffled voice from the far end of the shop, “I contemplated calling the police, Mr Shades-indoors.”

Whipping round to face the counter, the blonde jumped, nearly toppling over the rack of goods closest to him. Head cradled in one of his palms, John stared at him, mouth set into a hard line. Straightening himself the best he could despite his ever present slouch, he searched for the best way to respond without making more of a fool of himself. His heart began to beat erratically and his palms to perspire, gawping like a fish as he tried to form coherent words. Why he was acting like a child caught with their hand in a cookie-jar he didn’t know, but finding a response that wasn’t pure nonsense had overtaken his drive to maintain his composure.
“Why didn’t you?” He croaked, his throat having become abnormally dry, his words threatening to crack.

How wonderfully smooth.

“Nana. Sh’ said since you weren’t stealing anything you weren’t doing any harm.” He yawned, sitting up and rolling his head about his shoulders before returning his gaze to the young man in his shop.
“Any reason you hang around in here? ‘Cause you’re in here all the time. Like, every time I look up, you’re there.”
Shifting from one foot to the other and glancing at the ground briefly, the blonde was once again, left grasping for words.
“It’s kind of creepy having someone pretty much stalk you on your own property-“
“Yeah- Yeah I get it, Joh-“
“Whoah, whoah, what? You know my name? If that’s not weird I don’t know what is!”
The blonde grimaces, going to clutch at his hair and makes to retort, before noticing the facetious smile John was wearing so proudly.
“The look on your face just then,” he sniggered, “if only I had a camera.”
Raising an eyebrow over the rim of his sunglasses, the taller began taking small, cautionary steps toward the counter. The sly edge to John’s smile seemed to diminish- while nigh unnoticeable, it was something, at the least.
It was a strange feeling, to be conversing with the boy he’d been watching so much so it had almost become habit; his own life had made way for a singular, stray thought that had snagged at him as he’d left the establishment for the first time.

John seems like a cool guy.

“So, yeah, is there any particular reason you’ve been mooching around for the last month or two? I mean, none of us mind, it’s just you only ever bought the one thing-also, wow, what is with your voice? Like, sudden bass out of nowhere…”
Only half listening to John, thought about the dark-haired boys original question.

Was there any reason for his being there?

His immediate answer would have been yes, there was a reason, and that was John- but what about John was it that drew him to that murky old shop? That placed the passing thought he’d caught and let fester in his head? The two had never spoken before now and even when he had purchased something the exchange had been minimal-
“Hey, Space Cadet, are you still with me?”
Snapping out of his reverie, the blonde patron observed that John’s little amused smirk had grown tenfold.
“What?”
“You were mumbling to yourself.”
“No I wasn’t.”
“Yeah, you were.”
“Pretty sure I wasn’t.”
John gave a laugh that could be described as a giggle, resting his chin on the heel of his palm again.
“You definitely were. Hey, would you mind stepping outside for a moment?”
“Why exactly…?”
“Just trust me. We’re gunna do this properly, okay? You’re going to go outside, come back in, and introduce yourself like a normal human being. Got that?”
While entirely perplexed by the course of action John was suggesting, the taller thought it best he should just go along with it, should he want any chance of speaking with John again. Stepping out of the store, he hesitated glancing through the window to see John beckoning back inside. It seemed like a wholly trivial idea, but it seemed rude to simply walk off.
“What now?” He called, stepping back into the musk-scented store.
“Now, you come over here!”
Once he was stood opposite John once again, the shorter of the two raised his right hand and extended his hand toward him.
“Hi there! Welcome to Prankster’s Gambit, I’m John Egbert. And you are…?”
Blinking before grasping John’s hand, the blonde seemed to finally coin onto what John was doing.
“Dave,” He sniggered, feeling quite ridiculous, “Dave Strider.”

“Well then, Dave, I’m putting a reservation in on your free time. You free at five?”
It was at that point that Dave Strider proceeded to give the overly confident boy before him a mostly un-used smile; something he regarded as an honour for those he addressed them to.

“Five sounds good.”