"Oh my God, Dave. Dave. Dave are you okay."
"Jesus Christ, Egbert, I'm good as gold."
"Are you sure?"
"John. What in Dick Dickinson's name are you on."
"I just. Oh gosh Dave, you're okay!"
John Egbert is pacing back and forth in his apartment. He glances at the TV every once in a while, the news chattering in almost-muted volume. His glasses are still foggy from repeatedly wiping them with his fingers, sneakers half-untied, grocery bags thrown around the kitchen.
"John, please. What the fuck is going on? No one tells me anything anymore."
"Hey Dave, say hi to your boyfriend for me."
"Shut up, Bro."
Dave Strider is at home, too: a new condo unit Bro crashed and booby-trapped with smuppets just a while ago as a house-warming gift. He's lounging on the provided-for sofa, Dave hitting his head with a broom. Feet off. Now, he mouths to his older brother as he signals for him to take his loamy equestrian boots off with a jerk of his thumb.
"It's just. Hurricane. Tornado! The news flashed that a huge one hit you guys and I just—"
"Dropped everything, flung the remote out the window and speed-dialed my number to check if I were okay? That's sweet. You're a real tart, John, but—"
"Pfft. Tart."
"Hi, Mister Strider, and Dave please please please take this seriously! Texas might actually be declared as a state of calamity or something anytime soon today!"
John is so frustrated. Why isn't Dave taking this seriously?! Gosh if he was there he would hit him repeatedly on the arm and maybe tear up and hug him because wow, he's okay!
"Whoa, wait, Texas what?"
"Yeah, exactly!"
"No, Egs, see, I moved to Chicago."
"..."
The silence lasts a bit too long. Bro kicks his boots off and hops back on the sofa. Dave throws the broom at him but he dodges. He's also waggling his eyebrows, which makes those pointy-as-fuck shades wiggle around. He ignores the immature bastard and takes the time to appreciate how cute Egbert sounds when he's worried. Dave then cuts the silence.
"The other day? I called you up. Five in the morning. Said I got here safe."
"So...you're...not in Texas?"
"Well. No. Sorry to burst your mother-instinct bubble, babe."
"Um. Okay. Bye."
Dave could have sworn he heard John blush and gulp through the terribad static.
That adorable little derp.
