It's now the first monday of spring break, and John has been here for a full day only, and it has already been one of the best full days of your young teenaged lives you are sure. Last night you spent all evening watching shitty nic cage movies, and now, you are about to end the second full wonderful day with a bunch of microwaveable tv dinners with disgustingly grotesque cartoon characters dancing across the screen, and everything is gonna be fan fucking tastic. From the corner of your eye, you can see John nibbling with his cute little rodent teeth on the old silverware you gave him, eyes glued to the television as he sits in your computer chair, all folded up like a jack in the box, waiting to spring. Being the prankster that he is, you have no doubts he will, sooner or later. And this makes you smile, the corners of your lips tilting up just slightly and ruining your perfect poker face.
"Enjoying your new home, Egderp?" You quiz and he swings a heavy blue gaze your way, chirping back an appositive. It's the kind of day you'd give anything for, and you just don't want it to end. Reaching over, you grab the remote, and soon a battle ensues over the righs to the tv channels.
"Mine." You say with authority, but he reaches over, his shirt riding up to show his exposed and soft underbelly, and you can't help but stare for a breif moment behind your glasses before he's crashing over you, trying to take it as you tickle his sides. It's fucking hilarious and it's nice, and eventually, you let him win, and he goes back to happily staring at the screen.
"Okay, seriously dude," And then the two of you are squished up against each other on the floor. "I gotta shower. I'm verging on rank." John turns to you, pretending to sniff your light hair, before making gagging sounds and crawling away. "Oh god yeah, that's a good idea Dave." He says, and then he's getting smacked because shit you don't smell that bad okay, okay yeah. His cheek is turned to you and you see them swelling up with a smile and you just playfully smack at John's shoulder as you get up, wondering why everything the two of you do and say feels so fucking filrtatious all of the sudden and it's like sexual tension that you can't really tell if it's there... or not but it's more wonderful than awkward so you don't question. Because John's just probably a touchy sissy but you can't help yourself.
Last night when he was crawling up next to you in bed he pressed his cute little nose into your armpit and jeezus christ it made your skin crawl with happiness and sunshine and motherfucking rainbows and all you wanted to do was squeeze him closer, but of course you didnt. And at dinner, John kept trying to feed you god knows fucking why he ever thought that was okay, because you turned him down with the sternest of frowns everytime, but that didn't seem to faze him. He just keeps at this, all this adorableness - kicking puppets out of the way so he can sit with his head in your lap. You will never know why he suddenly doesn't care about being so fucking touchy - it's like the minute he set foot in Texas his fingertips became glued to your sides. You don't know him well enough to know if he's like that with everyone, though. So you find yourself confused but wondering but happy.
So you step into your small white bathroom shoving the door open even though it sticks, copious amount of puppet plush ass in the way, oh god did bro want him to wash these things? With his tidy whiteys? Not happening. You turn to the sink and stare at your sleep frazzled hair and the remnants of a late night on your cheekbones, that dewy look people get when their body is screaming for food but Bro hasn't woken up yet and he insisted on making pancakes for you two, ironically. That and eggs. With salsa. He apparently wanted Egbert to feel culturally expirienced, even though truth be told all Dave ever did if for some reason an egg made it into his house was boil them into chinese soup because shit that stuff was forty nine cents a seasoning packet and made a shit ton of soup. You aren't poor, exactly. Obviously, you live in a nice apartment, obviously bro had enough to buy all the game systems, the turn tables, and whatever else the two of you wanted, not to mention tons and tons of puppets, but it was universal law to live cheaply. Food was not high up on the house priority list and when you wanted to buy fifty million games you found the sweet art of cutting down all your other expenses to virtually nill in order to compensate for your middle class earnings.
This, however was the expception, for John Egbert coming over required the introduction of actual foods into your household and your actually weren't quite sure how much your digestive system would like that. Soon hot water was rolling over you, however, and most thoughts of gross, questionably prepared foods were out of your mind until you managed to step back out, water still rolling down your shoulders, to run a comb and some gell through your light hair. Your shades were fogged but you rubbed them against the end of your towel and slid them back into place, pulling clean clothes out of your secret clean clothes compartment - a red long sleeved shirt and black jeans, before opening the door, and yawning for ironic effect.
"Oh, Lucy, I'm H -" You started, but froze, your dated culture references caught in your throat at the sight before you. John was sitting in your computer chair again, his face glued to the screen, where two very hairy ...er, furry, young wolf men were unabashedly going at it. You couldnt' see his face from where you were standing, but yours froze, the blood draining out of your cheeks and your skin getting even paler oh jegus christ was that even possible you were pretty fricking pasty already this is like a scientific im fucking probability all up in this bitch wow.
Suddenly John seems to notice you, whipping around, his cheeks about three shades lighter than snow white's brand of lipstick. Strawberry coloring dusts across his nose and his cheeks and the tips of his ears, and his messy hair is sticking out everywhere, and yeah, you think, he kinda does look like snow white that would amuse you so much except your flipping all your fucking shits right now, you left them on the fire way to long and now you're double timing the shit flipping to keep everything unburnt and sacred but you know you're already too late.
"Why are you on my computer John?" You ask, sounding a bit more guilty than you wanted to, and suddenly everything is very, very awkward. You don't even know how he came across that site - a webcomic that you had titled something vaguely academic and hidden deep within your favorites. But he did, probably because he's a dork, and wanted to know about how to make a fuckin lemon battery oh god what the fuck jegus christ lemon battery was such an ironic cover up title you were some damn proud of yourself for that one.
"I ..um, I ...well," John trailed off, fidgeting sheepishly, not seeming to have an answer. For a minute the two of you just looked around, avoiding each other's gaze, before John finally breaks your mortified silence.
"I thought it was actually kind of interesting." He finally admits, his cheeks turning deeper, and so much has been said in that sentence because his finding of your gay man animal porn kind of more or less revealed your not so blatant homosexuality and the furry thing well that wasn't really that broadcasted either so yeah. But. John. What. He was reading it ...obviously. John was reading your gay man porn. With wolves. He was reading it. That was not the page you left on. And his face didn't look disgusted, only embarassed.
John was reading your gay man wolf porn and he was liking it.
John was gay and possibly wasn't aversed to the idea of wolf men.
Oh god you were going to pass out.
"Yeah... well um ...this is awkward." You were never so completely devoid of eloquence in your life surely for years you would remember this lapse of awesome and hit yourself for it. John seemed to agree, finally looking up, blue eyes wide.
"So ...aren't these furries?" He asked, seeming to try and clear the awkward, by embarassedly pointing behind him to the screen, asking you to explain. You walked forward robotically, jaw set in a deep deep frown. You didn't even bother looking at John, but pointed at the screen. "Um. Yeah." John nodded, squirming in the seat. He kept looking at you, at the screen, at his hands, at the wall, and then back to you.
"Dave."
"Yeah."
"I'm actually a homosexual."
"Yeah okay me too."
"Well that was kind of obvious."
"Shut the fuck up, Egbert."