Your name is Dave Strider, you are twenty-six years old, and it's the Holiday season again.
As a kid you never really celebrated it very much. Sure, Bro would send another landslide of plush ass your way, and there would be painfully ironic decore lining all of the walls, but that was about it. Then once you got out of high school and got into school for filming, having John as your roommate and Rose and Jade also rather nearby only meant that you'd be more or less dragged into a big holiday shabang. You couldn't tell if you dreaded this or were excited for this at the time, but the four of you getting together and being festive became somewhat of a tradition.
Things are still the same, as you pull up on a snow-paved driveway and adjust the scarf around your mouth along with the SB&HJ merchandise earmuffs nestled around your ears. There's just a new addition to the group now.
Well, there always were. They came and went - Rose's many trials with women her age and men her senior, taking a long time to find her right niche, and Jade being the type to drag along some foreigner she'd met in her travels - but this was the first permanent one, the first one who was making her place in there expected and who had been there on and off a couple times. You aren't sure you like it.
Knocking on the fogged-over glass, you place your hands back in your pockets as Molly answers the door.
"Oh hey Dave!" she responds cheerily, smiling and waving at you daintily (everything you aren't). "John's been talking all week about how excited he is for you to be here, come in, come in!" And she's gesturing you in eagerly, moving to take your coat off for you.
You refuse the assistance, a grumbled apology under your breath, before kicking off the rest of your snow gear quickly.
"Why do you have so much of that on? Haha, it's below freezing, but not too terrible cold for a trip to and from the car."
"Oh fuck you," you say. For a moment you worry that she'll take you seriously, but again, she's too much like John, and just laughs and smacks you lightly on the shoulder. You sigh slightly before continuing your walk in, bare feet against warm, too-new carpet.
"Dave!" you hear exclaimed from the top of a staircase you're idly passing while checking the place out, and soon you find familiar arms locked tight around your neck and dragging you to the ground. You laugh a little, before quickly going into your usual wrestle with him. Ever since you and John started visiting each other, this was something you did, just a rough, neverending tustle of pinning and hitting.
You hear a warm laugh and Molly's back over near you, tapping the two of you with her polished toenails. "Now come on boys, that's enough of that."
And John is unhinging his arms from around you (no, too soon too soon too fucking soon) and scratching the back of his head nervously while laughing, "Sorry, Molly! We're probably making a mess of the floor too, aren't we?"
"More like my ironing job!" she pouts, pulling him up from the ground (too familiarly they've been doing this for months now fuck you miss when you lived with him and that those years ago he moved in with her and then just months ago they got this house you can't stop these chains of thoughts they simply will not stop it's just so fucking domestic you can't—) and patting down the wrinkles in his green button-up shirt (god he always looked so nice in button-ups) and adjusting his glasses (even if he still looked like a fucking dweeb). And then she kisses him quickly (and he giggles nervously god he's such a fucking adorable dweeb).
"Ooooooh," you holler, still sitting on the floor, and mocking the schooltime practice of children when any bit of romance was even slightly hinted at.
"Shut the fuck up!" John's laughing and kicking at you, and you're just happy to have the attention back on you, even though that sounds twisted as hell the more you think about it.
"Not my fault you're too busy macking in front of my poor virgin eyes," you say melodramatically, allowing your head to fall backwards and the back of your hand to rest on your forehead. This would probably be a lot funnier and a lot more ironic if you weren't actually a virgin, but seeing as so far John and your right hand have been the only men for you, you've kind of been stuck there. "Oh John, oh Molly, defiling my innocence so, what kind of parents will you be," you chant monotonously.
She gasps slightly behind painted nails, pouting at John with puffed out cheeks. "You told him, didn't you!"
"What, I, no I didn't!" he waves his hands frantically, looking between the two of you with a heavy panic. "I, just, no he was probably joking!"
What the fuck were they even going on about? All you'd done was implied they'd be parents, which they would eventua—
Oh.
"You just gave yourself away, mama-to-be," you tease, standing on up. "You guys waste no time, do you? Ready to bathe in a sea of Wiggles memorabilia and gender-dependantly-colored footy pajamas?" You're mocking them while at once beginning to pad away, keeping on a strong face pretty well, even with your back turned.
"Oh Dave shu— Hey, where are you going?" John blinks, seeming to take a few steps toward you again.
You fling up your hand, a gesture of 'No worries, man, I got this'. "I've just been in a car for hours, gotta take a visit to the little badass' room."
"Haha, okay 'Mr. Badass'!" he calls mockingly to you, and you can barely hear him talking more quietly to Molly, as she asks something about whether you even know where the bathroom is. Of course you don't wait up, and of course you don't know where the damn bathroom is, but all the suburbian houses are similar enough that you can get your mind around this pretty quick.
And sure enough, soon you're closing a freshly-white-painted door shut behind you, back against it as you slump to the ground.
Fuck, was that kind of realization really something you needed to experience this early into a damned little visit? Sure as hell not is wasn't, but that was how it happened. Egbert was gonna be a daddy, and Mrs. Egbert was gonna be the little mommy in tow. They'd probably have a cute little girl that he'd so creatively name Casey, and they'd probably invite you to babysit all the time while they went out on their occasional dates. It's only just now hitting you howpermanent all of this is - how he's pretty much stuck with this fate now for a minimum of eighteen years, and that's that.
And it's not even that he's stuck with it - it's that he has no qualms with that whatsoever. It's that he's willing to dedicate all of that, it's that the guy that honestly seems a little asexual to you at times was willing to commit something as big as his fucking virginity to her, and still be so happy and trusting and be willing to have a child with this woman. Seriously a child, not some joke about lizards that he kept up longer than necessary, but really, truly, having the American dream with this woman.
You wonder if, by some stroke of luck in some alternate universe, he felt the same way about you, would you even be able to give him that American dream? Like obviously you'd have to adopt but that's not even the point. You aren't sure you could do this married thing, if you could do this whole keeping him happy all the time thing. He keeps you happy even by not even being with you, but you aren't sure you'd be able to; not the way Molly does anyway. You'd probably upset him all the time and just be a bore - and you'd especially not really be cut out for being a father, you're sure of it. After all, though Bro was great and all, that's all the role model you've got to go from. Both John and Molly came from respectable families and overall they just know what they're doing.
They'll be great parents, you know they will. No divorces, no broken families and none of that. You're realizing that you still had some tiny shred of hope in the back of your mind that maybe things would turn around, maybe you could win him back (like you ever had him in the first place) or something. But you're quickly realizing that that isn't possible, and it never was. Even if it was, now it's less than some bitch you like but don't at once and you and John on the line - it's a kid, a beautiful, growing child in her belly. And suddenly it's so much bigger.
You just have to stay strong, you can do this. You haven't had a breakdown since the wedding, and you're not about to start to now.
"Hey, Dave, you okay in there?" you hear John question, fist hitting against the other side of the door. You jolt up in surprise, adjusting the old, barely surviving sunglasses on your face (you think about all the times you've had them repaired - you doubt John knows they're the exact same pair he gave you when you were just thirteen years old).
"Y-yeah, I'm just takin' a bit, hold up," you manage out, gathering yourself.
There's a pause, before he questions, "Hey are you… are you on the floor?"
"What the fuck, no, weirdo," you astute as if your life depends on it. "Your hearing range is off, man you really are ready to be a father." And you're pretending to wash your hands before opening the door, ending up a bit too close for comfort to John.
Of course though, he doesn't mind, just grinning those pearly whites at you. "We were about to start setting up for the Christmas party tonight! I'll show you your room, then do ya wanna help us decorate?"
"Puttin' me to work the second I get here? Damn, you're so cruel," and you've got him in a headlock quickly, noogying him and actually getting a little close to smiling.
This time it doesn't turn to wrestling (and you think you see him peeking out the corner of his eye to see Molly watching you guys, and you hope it's not that that's stopping him, because if it is you're already feeling your heart scratch again like a broken record), and you're standing up again, waiting for him to show you the way to your room.
It's nice and you drop off your bag, but it's nothing really to note. Soon you're helping the two of them out with decorations, mostly doing the stunt work that both of them have too much on the line to attempt anymore (also known as stairs and chandeliers, neither of them can risk falling at this point. But of course, you, you have nothing to lose at all, and you know it better than anyone else) and you're hanging up all assortments of holly and mistletoe, as well as doing the higher half of the Christmas tree.
John makes comments about how for how little of Christmas you've had in your life, you sure do know how to decorate, but you're pretty much ignoring him by this point, sneaking some awesome SB&HJ ornaments in on the tree when he isn't looking.
Not too long after that, it's six o' clock, and the doorbell's ringing. You flock to it, pokerface in tact and doorman position assumed. "None of that now," Rose tsks, hitting you on the arm with a handbag and walking in past you.
"Well hello to you too, darling ecto-sister."
She shooshes you, pursing her lips in displeasure before opening her arms wide to Molly, rubbing her back endearingly. You know for a fact that she really feels quite neutral on Molly, but obviously it's best to feign over-excitement. She's said herself that being both your sister of sorts and one of John's best friends, she needs to keep a neutral temper - both slight distaste for you, and fondness for him. You've insisted that she's just fine and you like her okay so none of that bullshit is even necessary, but each time she just shakes her head and continues to stance-less field she's in.
She's helping Molly and John in the kitchen before long, and you're just waiting for Jade to arrive. Soon enough she is, Bec following after (how fucking old is that devilbeast?) excitedly and leaving white bits of fur all over the carpet.
And soon enough, it's starting to feel like old times. Rose and Jade have no guests, although Jade is petting Bec frequently and Rose is caught pestering someone on Trollian on her phone a lot of the evening, but aside from the new location, and Molly's steadfast position as opposed to the wishy washy nature of year's past, it's like old times. A little, anyway.
"I wanna do presents! I got you all the best presents, heehee!" Jade babbles excitedly.
"Dinner needs to be served first," Lalonde sighs, shaking her head.
And of course, the forever tie-breaker, "Why don't we do both?" enthuses John, arms positioned out on either side of him in an open gesture.
And of course (of course of course of course, all of this is too predictable and you just need the plastic evening that you don't have an actual place in to be over) that idea is taken with open arms, and you're seated around a painfully nice oak table, dinner set and gifts arranged at your sides.
You realize you left a couple of yours in your bag, so you stand up pretty soon, explaining. "I'll be right back."
You're beginning to head up the stairs when John's hand is up on your shoulder. "Hey wait! I forgot something too, let's walk together!" He's smiling up at you, and he's so goddamn fucking cute, how is he allowed to be this cute? It should definitely be against the law, really, it truly should.
"Oooooh!" Molly is calling, a mocking of your earlier gesture. And at first you're really confused. Was she reading your thoughts, or are you just that painfully obvious? You're spazzing inside for the time being, leaving John to be the one to turn his head around, tilting it in confusion (dammit dammit dammit he is so fucking cute fuck fuck fuck).
"You boys are under the mistletoe!"
And sure enough you look up, eyes wide behind your Aviator's, and there, your dumb ass had decided would be a brilliant location to put it.
John is looking too before nervously laughing, "Well Molly? Your call!"
She's giggling to herself of course, very amused by two obviously heterosexual boys (ha) meeting under the mistletoe. "Well you guys are best friends, it won't mean anything! Go ahead."
This isn't how it's supposed to go. You're supposed to keep everything at bay, and supposed to maybe get frustrated wrestling or bumping chests in a brohug but that's it, none of this bull. You think for a moment that God must be out to get you - that maybe all the shit about God hating gay people is true, and this is your punishment for diggin' manbits. This isn't fair, this isn't fair, but fuck he's laughing before closing his eyes and leaning in for a peck.
You sigh slightly before leaning in to kiss him, and you try to make it a joke but you're lingering, and oh god his lips are so soft, so wonderful, even better than you ever dreamed and you're stuck there, just barely holding back from sliding your arms around him and making this a passionate kiss at the end of one of Vantas' shitty movies. You feel sparks, you do, you feel a million of those cliche explosions of fireworks that every girl in high school babbled about when asking you if you'd go on a date with them and how important their first kiss was to them.
And then he's gone, and you're shaking and opening your eyes again. He's gigglesnorting, giving you a rough pat on the shoulder. "Nice dedication there, dude! No homo, right?"
"Right," you growl out, looking over at the others briefly, and the pity staining Rose's face is there again, before you're turning tail without John, hurrying to your room.
Closing the door tightly behind you, you pretend you had to unload your whole bag to find the gifts to buy you some time.
The worst part was that he felt nothing. You felt on top of the world - a volcanic eruption, a geyser let loose, the applause of millions, and a little less romantic shift in your jeans, but regardless it was all there and it was all you ever dreamed of. And all he had to say was "No homo" and dorky little laugh. And even that is adorable to you.
Breakdown number dos, thank you very much.
You aren't sure how long you can keep this up.
