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Talk Dirty to Me

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He is so annoying.

You observe Dave Strider with slightly narrowed eyes. He always seems to be the center of attention, wherever he goes. People just seem to get irresistibly get pulled along in his wake naturally, like he has some kind of magnetic field built in. He seems to know everyone and everybody knows who Dave motherfucking Strider is. People randomly ask for high-fives, girls grin when he walks past and teachers seem to have a special place in their hearts for this blonde monument to coolness.

Yes, Dave Strider is one hell of a golden boy. Everybody pays attention to him.

The exact opposite of you.


You're in class, idly doodling on the inside of the cover page of your notebook. You're interrupted mid-concentration by the sound of giggles. You don't turn your head, because you know that the giggling is coming from the corner where Strider is sitting. Dave always seems to be surrounded by giggling girls (and a couple of boys, too). You find it intensely irritating, even though it's not like Dave Strider is the only bona fide playboy in this school. But you notice him wherever he goes, it's hard not to. The infamous sunglasses that he is never seen out of, the tousled blonde hair, smart-ass remarks and sexy accent...yeah, all right.

You may have a bit of a crush on Dave Strider.

Just a little one.

You still find him (and it) annoying.

Well, maybe not so much him as the sheer amount of attention Dave requires to function. You're not really all that popular, you tend to stick with the people you know and sometimes it's hard for you to really get close to guess it's because you're kind of, well, bitchy sometimes. But it's not like you're like that all the time. It's just that people often don't bother trying to get past that, um...exterior that you have. And you don’t like bullshitting, you tell people what you think whenever you think it. Obviously, not everybody likes that.

Another loud giggle pierces your eardrums and you hiss in annoyance, having just goofed up the shading you were doing. You turn in the direction of the laughing with your best death glare. To your surprise, Dave is looking right at you and although you can't see his eyes, the little smirk on his face is enough to make a heat creep up the back of your neck, as it often does when you're embarrassed. Huffing and blowing your bangs out of the way, you merely narrow your eyes at Dave before returning your attention to the notebook. Across the table, John shoots you a sympathetic look and you distinctly hear Dave chuckle.



Finally, the bell.

Your fingers, still smudged with pastels, hurry to tuck away your sketchbook as you hurry outside. You give brief wave to a couple of your friends as you leave, and then you remember that you've left something in your locker.

“Goddamn it.” You hiss, hurrying back.

The lock is being uncooperative today, and you resist the urge to start kicking the locker to oblivion. It’s not cool to have a tantrum in the middle of the hallway.

“You mad, bro?”

Oh, fantastic.

It’s Dave Strider, of course.

As the hallway empties of people, done for the day, Dave stands there, looking like he just fell out of a quirky indie movie. He raises an eyebrow as you growl at him.

"You are so annoying." you tell Dave bluntly, but it doesn’t faze him in the slightest.

It's like the more irritated you get, the less seriously Dave seems to take you.

"It's okay, babe. You don't have to hide it."

"Hide what?"

Dave smirks.

"You can't resist the Strider Swag and it's messing with your head, like beep beep motherfuckers, get the moving van, this is Strider property now."

"Are you going to stop talking total bullshit anytime soon?" you retort, blandly, but he’s still smirking at you.

You would like to punch him in his smug, handsome face, maybe give him a split lip or something. (Not really much point giving a kid who never takes his sunglasses off a black eye, right?) You imagine Dave with a bloody nose, but it only irritates you more. Of course, Dave would probably make a busted nose look good. He’d probably get everybody at school wanting one, and you’re pretty sure you can’t go around punching every single person in the building…as much as you’d like to.

Fucking Cool Kid and his ridiculous ability to influence other people.

You’re very aware of how close he is standing to you- there is air conditioning blasting rather needlessly in the hallway, and you’re only in jeans and a vest shirt. But Dave looks like he’d be pleasantly warm to the touch…

You frown, annoyed by these errant musings.

Dave is giving you a knowing look, scarlet eyes tracing your body from behind his shades. (They ain’t just for looking cool, you know.) You’re not the only one who spends a lot of time staring at people when you think that they can’t see you.

“You stare at me, hun.”

You splutter.

“I so do not!”

“Denial ain’t just a river in Egypt, darlin'.”

“Get out of my face, Strider.” You snap. Poor choice of words on your part, it has to be said.

Dave fucking grins - it’s gone within a moment, of course, but you’re stunned enough by it that you don’t even react when he suddenly takes a step forwards, so that he’s standing so close to you that you’re practically nose-to-nose.

“I wasn’t in your face,” he corrects you, which is something he seems to do to you a lot and you find it intensely irritating. His fingers brush at a strand of your hair.

“…” you can’t speak for a moment.

“Am now, though,” He says, near your ear, and you shiver involuntarily.

“I can see that,” you say, in a hoarse whisper.

You lift a hand to try and push him back- but his fingers gently circle around you wrist and for some reason, a blush comes speeding up your neck and across your face at the contact. You don’t think that Dave has ever physically touched you before.

“As I was sayin’…” Dave continues in his Southern drawl, satisfied that you’re not going to shove him away and run off. “You stare at me all the time. At first I thought you were just, you know, looking in my direction, but then whenever I talk to you, it’s like I’ve insulted your mother or somethin'…”

He inclines his head slightly. It suddenly occurs to you Dave is taller than you are.

“…classic signs that a girl likes you.” He finishes, lip quirking.

“You have a really high opinion of yourself, don’t you?” You snap, but really, if you were Dave, you’d have a high opinion, too.

“I know a bit about girls.” He replies, simply, not in the least bit bothered by how aggressive you sound…mainly because the two of you are still standing there like musical statues, your arm still locked in Dave’s grip. He’s not hurting you, not at all, but you still feel kind of flustered.

“I know what makes people tick,” Dave went on, his voice lowering to an almost-whisper, like he only wants you to hear him. This idea is strange; Normally Dave doesn’t seem to be satisfied unless he has the whole room hooked on his every word…or maybe you just think that because you’re always hooked on his every word, no matter how much you don’t want to be. How juvenile.

“I mean…” Dave goes on, almost idly, “If I was a chick, which would be freaky as balls, yo, and I liked some swag-as-fuck guy and didn’t know how to handle it, I’d be a total Tsundere about it too.”

“Tsundere? What the hell are you implying-?”

“But I guess if that’s true…I’d try’n make her feel better about it, y’know?”

You’re about to argue with him again, even though it’s pretty pointless- insults bounce off Dave like he has a shield on at all times, but you sputter to a stop as he extends a hand, pressing his index finger to your lips.

You stare at him, wishing you could see his eyes, to know if there’s even an ounce of sincerity in them. He has to be trolling you, right?

Dave trails his finger down from your lips, down your chin and flicks beneath your jaw, tilting your head back so you’re staring right at him. You smirk and stretch up your free hand, using them to tilt his sunglasses. You almost gasp - his eyes…you’ve spent a lot of time wondering what color they might be, but bright red was never at the top of your list.

“Like what you see?” Dave purrs, smirking.

“What if I do?” you say, sounding a little harsher than you intended. “What, hypothetically, would you do about it, Mr. Cool Kid?”

Dave tilts his head.

“Well, if this hypothetic girl of legend liked me…and I liked her back…I’d kiss her, obviously. I’d have to be some kinda fuckin’ robot not to, right?”

You jerk your head free of his grip, and Dave continues.

“It’d be a fucking amazing kiss, too. Like, the kind you write ridiculous songs about. Then, depending on where we were, I guess I’d start kissing her neck too, you know? Gotta mix it up a little. Maybe bring her in closer; if she’s down with that, then we can get more up close’n personal.”

As he talks, Dave’s hand briefly traces your own jaw and it’s distractingly pleasant.

“If were at my place, maybe things’d get a little more intense, you know? Wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off her…”

You want to nip his fingers, but you’re not sure if that would be out of annoyance or urging him to keep going. He does the latter.

“My hands would be all over her…and her over me, I don’t mind. Things have to be coming from both people or what’s the point? It’d probably be getting all hot, though. Might have to take off my shirt.”

Dave then lifts the front of his shirt, so you get an eyeful of delicious, delicious abs. Plus, you can see the beginnings of a happy trail, leading down past his stomach to…other equally exciting areas. You gulp and Dave’s smirk widens.

“But that’s not fair, and maybe she’d get all toasty, too. Take her shirt off, cuz it’s all fine between us.”

Dave’s eyes flick to where your own shirt stops and your jeans begin and it takes all your willpower not to suddenly cover yourself out of embarrassment. You squeeze your thighs together, almost in anticipation. Dave lets go of his shirt, and you fight back a whimper of disappointment.

“By then, we’d prolly be down to our underwear. Y’know, because it’s just so warm in there.”

He sounds like he’s trying not to laugh, but this isn’t funny. It’s more…sexy than anything else. Dave gently touches your arm, feather light, and you almost want to grab his wrist and make him press harder, because this gentle touch is making you shiver with impatience. His velvety, smooth voice is conjuring up all kinds of images in your crazy imagination and it’s almost torment to just listen to him standing around, simply talking about it so casually. You can’t even imagine how you’d be feeling if you were actually there, in Dave’s room…

…In your underwear.

"And then, I'd look into her eyes..."

He's so close. So warm.

"Maybe kiss her again if she's all nervous, standing there with her gorgeous self all out in the open. Or, if she's the impatient type..."

Here, Dave's breath tickles your ear. You don't budge, not a damn inch.

"I'd hook my thumb in her panties...and slowly, so it lasts and all that tension is just too damn much...I'd pull 'em down, watching her blush and looking all sexy..."

Oh god. You are shivering.

"And then..." Dave whispers, sliding a hand down, around your waist, pulling you closer to your bodies are pressed together. You don't move to stop him. "And then..."

"...And then...?" you whisper, your eyes closing of their own accord.

Dave leans in, his lips JUST skimming yours, but that's enough for an electric, tingly sensation to spring across them.

And Dave whispers,

"...You'll just have to wait and see."

And just like that, he pulls away and the spell is broken.

You gape at him, feeling cold suddenly.

That fucking tease!


You swear you hear him laugh as he strolls past you, pushing open the double-doors and striding (pun intended) out like he’s about to take on the world. This is ridiculous, because outside of a smirk, you’ve never seen Dave display much emotion about, well, anything.

Until now, that is.

“Oh, I’m gonna get you for that, Strider.” You murmur, into the empty hallway. “Just you wait and see.”

And despite it all, you walk out of the building smiling.