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ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG]

EB: hey man.

EB: you got any plans for tonight?

TG: nah i dont

TG: why

EB: i received a mysterious parcel from roxy the other day.

TG: ohoho

TG: mysterious

TG: have you not opened it

EB: i mean, i opened it.

EB: duh!

TG: oh

TG: well what is it dude

TG: whyd you leave me in the dark

EB: because making a mystery out of nothing in particular is fun!

EB: but it was full of alcohol that she offloaded to me.

EB: and you know, i'm really proud of her! she's a great friend and i'm glad that she's been dry for a while now.

TG: yeah, youre right

TG: remember when you had a thing for her

EB: dude, you know that it's complicated. all that stuff that happened in the game is practically water under the bridge.

EB: besides, it's not like i'm reminding you of your, um, experiences with roxy being in the same area as you.

TG: dont

EB: what was it that you said about her again?

TG: ...

TG: anyway

TG: damn dude thats gotta be a lot of alcohol

EB: wow. nice save.

TG: thank you

TG: i actually think of myself as the master of nice saves

TG: if not irony

TG: its being good at changing the subject as quickly and effortlessly as a leprechaun sliding down an oiled rainbow

EB: ...

EB: it's a fuck ton of alcohol, actually.

EB: i have to be real with you.

EB: too much for one person.

TG: now whos changing the subject

EB: no way! i'm simply streaming it BACK to the original conversation.

TG: but let me get this straight

TG: haha funny jokes

TG: maybe im the master of comedy as well while were at it

EB: dave.

TG: john.

TG: are you suggesting i help drink cause im so down dude

EB: i am heavily suggesting you should come over.

EB: thought i made that kind of obvious.

TG: say no more egderp

TG: im putting on my shoes as we speak

EB: you want to bring anything?

EB: i mean, there's alcohol on my end.

TG: hmmm damn what do you want dude

EB: what do you have?

TG: well i mean if you wanted to mix it up i got weed and like i could just bring snacks instead uh

TG: shit dude ive got a lot how am i supposed to narrow this down

EB: bring the weed and the snacks.

TG: you know youre basically a virgin at this whole weed game

EB: just bring whatever, man.

TG: did i just sense an avoidance of a topic

TG: because i think you just avoided my comment

EB: oh sorry!

EB: let me just.

EB: [no comment].

TG: charming

TG: alright sweet ill be over in a bit then

EB: see you then.

TG: see ya man

ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG]

==> Be John Egbert

There was a knock on his door fifteen minutes later. John had been busying himself preparing for the long night ahead. Being in the Game, the only experience he really ever had with alcohol were Rose and Roxy. Other than that, it was probably something he had never truly experienced. On lonely nights, and most of them were lonely, mind you, John caught himself wishing that he could have been a normal teenager. Normal teenagers weren’t out saving the world and becoming gods of strange titles and died according to a clock. No, normal teenagers went to parties. And in the Game, parties - especially birthday parties - weren’t even of the essence.
He placed another tall glass bottle of vodka on the coffee table, inspecting its half-full contents for a few seconds. He’d be lying if he said that he hadn’t tried some of the goods as soon as the parcel had showed up on his doorstep. But most of these had already been opened from Roxy’s days. Some of the stuff was good, and John had had enough to get used to the burning that trickled down his throat.
So he dashed to the door, almost slipping on his socks, to swing the door wide open for Dave.
There he was, adjusting his shades with a brown paper bag in one hand. The sky behind him had long said farewell to the afternoon, said goodbye to warm golden rays and the pinks and oranges of the sun setting. Still, the stars weren’t as bright as they could be against a raven-black backdrop, and he could still see some clouds on the horizon. Dusk. It was falling rapidly and it only meant that the night was young.
“Are you ready, dude?” John said, big grin on his face.
It had been a while since they had hung out. Well, maybe only a few weeks. But that was a while! A long while, in fact.
“I was born ready.” He stepped into the house, his shoulders visibly relaxing. “This is going to be one hell of a night.”
“I’ll say.” John shut the door after him, locking it before sidling up to his side. “So what’s in the bag? The suspense is killing me, man.”
“Well, I brought the weed, obviously, and some chips for snacks and some sick beats in case we wanted some music y’know.”
“Your own sick beats?”
“Well, duh.” Dave looked at him, and it was clear that he was rolling his eyes behind his tinted aviators. God, those made him look like a jackass sometimes. Most of the time. “I’d only bring the sickest of beats.”
“So I definitely will need a drink,” he teased, knocking his shoulder with Dave’s. Or at least, tried to.
He never really grew past a steady 5’5. Maybe a part of him had hoped for a growth spurt during the Game, or hell, even after! No cigar, unfortunately.
And it was even more unfortunate that Dave had managed to get a growth spurt! Well, almost everyone did. John was pretty disappointed when even Jade shot up above him. There were worse things to worry about, but it definitely felt odd that he was now one of the shortest when he used to be taller than his friends.
“Wow,” Dave nodded a few times. “You’re just a coward, too afraid to listen to my sick beats. You’re afraid that you’ll fall in love with the Strider magic of turntables and glorious tunes.”
“Come on, you dork,” he snorted. “It’s all set up in the living room.”
The coffee table was covered in bottles, mostly vodka - both opened and unopened - and cheap wines. There were some other bottles of whatever, but John hadn't really looked at the labels. He had just placed as many as he could on the table before Dave had arrived. John walked over to the couch and sat down.
“Holy shit dude this is a lot of alcohol.” Dave raised his brows, sitting down beside the other. “I can’t believe she just forked over all this. let alone, to you. Like damn, dude. This is… This is a lot a lot.”
“I know right! I was surprised too.” He reached over for an already half-empty bottle of vodka. In fact, it was the same one he had placed down right before Dave had knocked on his door. “I don't have any plastic cups because they’re bad for the environment, so our 'high school' night is going to be altered slightly.”
“Fine by me,” Dave said, then paused. “Are you saying we're drinking from the bottle or do you have glass cups. Not that I care.” He chuckled, setting the bag by the table and running a hand through his spun-sugar blond hair
Oh. John didn’t even think of that. He decided to go with the former option.
Instead of answering, he opened the bottle and lifted it to his lips, taking a few gulps. The burn didn’t even register anymore. Just tasted a bit strange.
Dave shook his head, snorting again and covering his mouth. “Shit, dude, you’re the best. Holy shit.”
“I’ve had practice,” he said, then changed his mind. He passed it over to him before picking up the bag from the table. “Well, no. Not practice, per se. Just sheer determination, mainly. Not letting that acetone flavoured shit get to me.”
“Valid, dude.” Dave took the bottle, taking a sip of it before pausing and gulping some down. It was clear that there was a bite, a burning sensation by the way he paused. After another sip, he sighed as he pulled away. “Woah.”
John glanced at Dave, shifting closer to lean on his shoulder. “Daaaave, can you do all that weed shit for us? You know I'm clueless and I only have weed if it's with you.”
“Oh, so Mr. Practice can’t roll his own weed,” Dave said, shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah, I can. Hand over the bag.”
John passed it over and watched Dave hum as he took out the weed and began rolling it, making sure it was secure. John liked watching Dave roll it for him. He could have done it himself, not that he’d ever tell Dave that. He mainly liked to lie about that because he liked watching his fingers move. They were nice fingers, not like his pianist fingers. His were long and thin, and Dave’s were… well, they were different. A nice sort of different.
He placed the blunt on John’s lips and reached into his pocket for a lighter and he lit it for him. “There, man.”
John grinned around it, or at least, the best he could before taking in a decent hit. He passed it to Dave, holding it for a few seconds. Then he leaned in close and breathed it out onto Dave's face.
“At least vodka doesn't burn my throat, Mr. Cool Kid with the sick beats.”
“Aw, shut up dude, I haven’t drank in a bit.” There was a quick twitch of his lips when John blew the smoke in his face, almost not all there, but John picked it up. That was a Strider smile if he’s ever seen one. “Least I can roll weed.”
He took his own hit, shoulders eased before he finally blew it back in the others face. John wrinkled up his nose, thankful that he was at least still wearing his glasses.
"I only started when Roxy gave me that big fucking parcel.” John leaned forward again, taking the blunt back. “And that's not really fair - I’m nervous that I’ll like, shit, I don't know, ruin it if I roll it myself.”
“Uh huh, yeah. Whatever y’say, man.” He rolled his eyes, putting an arm around the other as he gulped down more of the vodka.
John rolled his eyes, pressing into his side. “I am saying that. I am standing by my own words.” Even if they were a lie. He took another hit, rolling his eyes again.
Dave squeezed him gently, sipping a bit more vodka before he took the joint, taking a hit off it and puffing it out with a few small rings, passing it back over. John reached over, taking the vodka bottle from Dave and had a few more gulps. Already, the alcohol and weed mix was getting to him. One thing he liked about crossfading was that it hit him almost immediately.
He passed the blunt back to Dave without taking a hit. “Wanna shotgun me?”
It was Dave who had introduced shotgunning to him. Granted, maybe John only agreed because he knew he was hopeless at taking in the right amount without wasting any, and maybe it was because some part of him was curious to finally press his lips against something that wasn’t dead. It was nice. A nice experience to have between best friends. Because that’s what they were. Best friends. And shotgunning didn’t count as kissing. Definitely not. No way.
Dave raised his brows. “Well, duh.”
He took a hit before leaning in, tugging the others hair back and connecting their lips to pass the smoke to him, pulling back after and humming. After breathing it out, John leaned forward to press his lips against Dave's once more as a thanks. Not as a way to kiss him again. Nope.
“Thanks, man.”
Dave paused before chuckling. “Of course, dude. Anytime.” Then he patted John’s thigh.
And a stroke of lightning raced up his skin. Oh wow. Wow. Was that supposed to have felt that good? John decided to ignore the feeling.
“Hey, hey, did you know that I think you're cool? Like, not a blasé kind of cool.” He rested his head on Dave's shoulder. “The real kind of cool. But those shades are lowering that cool status, I have to admit.”
Or was he just trying to get him to take them off?
Dave hummed, nodding slowly. “Sorry dude. the shades are a permanent part of the Strider image. Both for medical and status reasons. Thanks though. Can’t believe you’re still trying to get under my shades.”
“Still trying to get under you,” he mumbled without thinking too much about it.
If Dave had heard him, there was nothing said in response. So John continued his ramble.
“Yeah, but I think they'd look great on me.” John took another sip from the vodka.
“Hmm, tempting.” He stole the vodka for a few gulps. “’Cause you'd probably look pretty sweet in these magical shades .” He traced little shapes on his thigh, humming as he did so.
Another lightning strike. Again and again with each soft touch on his skin. Again. He ignored it, chalking it up to alcohol and weed.
“I think I'd look cool as fuck.” He giggled then pointed to his lips, signalling for Dave to bring the bottle to his mouth.
Dave nodded, lifting the bottle to the others lips, humming again. “Hmm. Maybe I’ll let you wear ’em.”
He drank from it before lowering it down. He wiped his mouth. “You should let me.”
“Fine.” He reached for his shades, but when he pulled them off, his eyes were shut. “Put ’em on.”
John quickly took them, tossing his own glasses somewhere behind him on the couch, and slid the shades onto the bridge of his nose. All at once, everything was as dark as it had been behind Dave when he first arrived.
“Oh wow. Everything’s so dark. You live like this?”
Dave put a hand over his eyes, just enough for him to peek through his fingers but keep his eyes hidden. “My eyes are sensitive to light, man. So yeah.”
“Want me to turn off the light?” he offered, standing up before Dave had the chance to respond. He tried not to sway. Failed. Miserably.
“If you aren’t gonna wipe out, I’d appreciate it,” he chuckled, leaning back and tossing an arm over the back of the couch.
John nodded, stumbling a little bit toward the light switches. He flicked them off, the room growing dark immediately. Then he made his way back over to Dave. He paused, clearly thinking about something. After a few short seconds, John sits himself down on Dave's lap.
“You did not just see me trip over air,” John told him, somewhat sternly like he was really trying to convince him to forget what he had clearly seen.
With the lights off, Dave’s eyes opened slowly, his arms wrapped around the other as he traced his side. “I so did.” Then he shook his head. “It was sweet, man.” He chuckled, resting his face in the crook of the others neck.
“Gosh, you’re so sweet when you’re drunk and high,” John giggled, pressing his face into Dave's hair, kissing the top of his head. “You should be like that more often.”
A part of him knew that it wouldn’t happen again, not for a while. So he tried to memorise this position, the small shapes Dave was tracing into his side, the feeling of how soft his hair was.
“Yeah, yeah,” he said, somewhat dismissively, squeezing his hip affectionately and just relaxing in the closeness. “Damn, dude… This is like, kinda homo, man.” He chuckled lightly, pecking his neck.
Lightning. Then a warmth flowered from where Dave’s lips at been. John, like all the other feelings he had been experiencing so far, ignored it.
He pressed another kiss to the top of Dave's head, breathing in his scent quietly. Without a word, Dave pulled back, pausing before connecting his lips to John’s with a sweet kiss, face a bit warm.
For a moment, he was caught off guard (who wouldn’t be?), then he leaned into it, his fingers curling into Dave's hair. Then he pulled away.
“Oh, and I don't know where I put my other glasses,” he managed to say before his lips were back on Dave’s.
“Dork.” Dave scoffed. He squeezed his hips, framing the other close, and kissing him back happily.
John shifted where he sat, creeping forward as his lips moved languidly against Dave's. Behind the shades, his eyes fluttered closed.
Dave hummed quietly as he tilted his head into it to be closer, letting himself relax. John’s tongue pressed at Dave's lips, almost entering his mouth, but not quite. His fingers curled tighter into Dave's hair. He was almost gone by this point, and the night hadn't even started. Dave parted his lips gently, his own tongue brushing up to greet the other’s, his thumbs rubbing the others hips as he eased.
Holy shit was it nice to kiss Dave, to feel their tongues graze - it made his heart pick up a little.
His tongue met Dave's, and god, was that kind of hot. He rocked himself ever so slowly into Dave's lap before pulling away from his lips again, but not before sucking on his tongue for a small second.
“Wanna shotgun me again but with more tongue?”
By now, John had accepted that this was where the night was going.
“Yeah? Hell yeah.” Dave searched around for a little bit before finding what he was searching for. He drew the blunt to his lips, taking a hit off it before pressing his lips to John’s and pushing the smoke past, tongue brushing up against his as he did so.
John breathed it in, letting his tongue lick at Dave's as his eyes closed again. The rocking got less subtle as he kept his lips on Dave's, tilting his head to the side to deepen it. It seemed as though Dave sure as hell didn't mind, his hips starting to rock back against the others some as he kissed him deeply, tongue working with his sweetly. He gave a little grunt, rolling his hips up against the others some. John separated his lips from Dave's just enough to let the smoke out. His hands dropped, one to the back of Dave's neck, beginning to massage there gently. The other dropped further to the hem of his shirt, beginning to crawl up underneath the fabric.
He allowed it. He was thin, toned, probably from years of strifing with Bro. But that also left some raised scars on his chest. He drew in a breath when they parted, hands massaging his hips lightly as he smiled gently.
Pulling back again, John rested his forehead against Dave's to catch his breath. “You know what? Our socks are on. It's fine, dude.” He shook his head a bit, making the shades fall down his nose so he could see Dave's eyes over the top. Even in the dark, he could make it out, especially at this distance.
God, he loved the colour. It was beauty running underneath his eyes. Burning embers, not the dull kind. The kind that could spark alight, ravaging cities that stood in its path. John could almost fall in love with Dave’s eyes alone.
“So pretty…” he murmured as he trailed a hand up Dave's shirt further, his nails scraping a little bit.
Once again, Dave’s lips were on his, his large hands squeezing at John’s thighs. Tracing shapes. Tongue pressed against his teeth. The place smelling like weed.
And then the atmosphere shattered. Dave’s phone began to buzz.

==> Be Dave Strider

carcinoGeneticist [CG] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG]

CG: WHERE ARE YOU?

TG: out

TG: whats up

TG: do you need me back at home

CG: NO. IT'S NOT LIKE I NEED YOU TO BE AROUND ME CONSTANTLY TO MAKE ME FEEL VALIDATED AND APPRECIATED BY YOU.

TG: so thats a yes you do need me back home

CG: YOU'RE DOING THAT STUPID HUMAN THING AGAIN.

TG: what stupid human thing

TG: there are many

CG: THE ONE WHERE YOU PRETEND YOU'RE TOO BUSY TO ANSWER RIGHT AWAY BECAUSE YOU HAVE ROMANTIC FEELINGS TOWARD THEM IN AN ATTEMPT TO MAKE YOURSEF SEEM COOLER. NOT THAT YOU'D NEED THAT, THOUGH. SO WHAT GIVES?

CG: ARE YOU ACTUALLY BUSY?

TG: nah nah

TG: not busy

TG: ill be home soon kitkat

CG: BETTER BE. I'VE HAD TO ENDURE ENDLESS DRIVEL FROM THE LIKES OF JADE AND I'D MUCH RATHER YOU BY MY SIDE TO WATCH ROMCOMS.

TG: copied loud and clear

TG: be there soon

carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG]

John was quiet as Dave lifted him up from his lap. He had been reading over his shoulder the entire time. Of course he had been. That bucktoothed guy with black hair the same style as a bird's nest was curious at heart. And annoyingly stubborn at times as well. Right now, Dave could tell that he was trying not to look as though what had just happened was getting to him. Even when Dave slid the aviator shades from the bridge of his nose, transferring them back to the right owner. Even when he stood up, brushing off his pants and taking the brown paper bag into his hands.
"You can finish that," Dave said, gesturing to the blunt that was precariously placed on the corner of the glass-topped coffee table. He turned away before he could see the look in his blue eyes, but he could hear the other scramble up from the couch and follow him to the door.
"Oh, well. Um, have a good night with Karkat," John said, evidently struggling to hide the disappointment in his voice.
"Yeah," he answered. He stepped outside, finally turning around to look at him. "John. You know you're my best friend, right?"
And Dave mentally kicked himself for saying that.
"Oh. Yeah. Yeah. Best bros. Duh." John seemed to force a laugh. His voice dropped. "Back there, that was just bro stuff. Chalk it all up to alcohol and weed."
"Yeah."

==> Be John Egbert

As soon as Dave had left, he retired himself back to the living room and curled up on the couch in front of all the bottles. They seemed to mock him.
Alright, he told himself. Just this once.
And he reached for an unopened bottle of vodka to drown the strange knots his heart was pulling itself into.