EDIT: this took so long to edit I am so sorry /SHOT

Oops I updated. Sorry in advance for the unedited version of this, lel. Also sorry for Dave's manly tears.

Also sorry for killing the fluff, AGAIN. I swear that wasn't actually supposed to happen.

JOHN'S POV

I hadn't even realized I was drunk until Dave and I began scrumming on the floor over a bag of Doritos that was already empty. His crimson eyes were swimming and unfocused (I had confiscated his shades earlier and hid them in that English fellow's boot) and I felt as if I were moving through a haze. As the night progressed, I found myself feeling incredibly amused at literally everything, and slowly Dave and I wound down to a gradual stop on the sofa –

I can't even pretend I don't remember all of it. I feel like a disgusting person and terrible friend.

At some point, Dave's bro and his… friend, holding hands, came into the living room with the other two ladies to join the group of card players on the floor. Vriska was shouting loudly every now and then in victory, making my head pound. They were talking trash, playfully throwing chips around, and a junior named Meenah began telling grand stories about her run-ins with the gangs in her home state of New York. Dave and I dozed, somewhat close to each other in alcohol-induced intimacy.

"Oh, Vriska," Meenah said, slapping down a card triumphantly. "You would never believe the things I had to do to get out of that shit." Vriska listened to her with concealed interest as she toyed with a handful of blue dice. Meenah continued with a low voice. "Once, I was out at one in the mor—Mituna!"

"S-serves you right," Mituna, some lanky dude with a disconcerting twitch said to Meenah with a large, toothy grin as he swept up all of the cards into his hand. He convulsed a few times, holding his head. "Fuck! …Sorry." He ran shaking fingers through his curly mess of black hair.

As I faded in and out of consciousness, I caught glimpses of Dirk politely ushering the group out the door. What time was it? I felt heavy and sore, so I didn't move even when someone gently prodded me in the side. At that point, I had forgotten Dave was sprawled out under me somewhere.

"Oh my god, Dirk!" I heard a lady whispering loudly. "They are so cute!"

"Just leave them," Dirk answered. "I'll be back tomorrow to check on them."

"Oh, I'll stay here with them and watch the house, Mr. Strider!"

Oh wow, who was even talking anymore? All the voices were jumbling inside my head.

"Roxy, I'll leave the door unlocked for you when you come back to the apartment. There will be a nice cake in the oven!"

"Thanks Janey dear!"

"Bloody hell what is in my boot?!"

Ow… I slipped back into sleep as my head throbbed ever harder. It felt like only five seconds had passed by when light began to filter through the sticky darkness and force my eyelids open. My head wasn't throbbing anymore, but a sharp headache was creeping around my skull as a taunt.

I decided to move a little after a while. Feeling something warm and solid underneath me, I suddenly shot up into a sitting position, sending a stabbing sensation through my washed-out brain.

"Ow, damnit, what the fuck did you move for…." Dave groaned, shoving his palms into his eye sockets.

"Strider—," I fumbled around for my glasses, pushing them onto my face. "What…what happened last night?" Realizing I was still sitting on him, I flopped around and made it on the floor in front of the couch, swaying slightly. Oh god what kind of question is that, that is so cliché and definitely not the right thing to ask. Dave was looking at me now with half-lidded crimson eyes that he was attempting to shield from the unforgiving sun.

"Uh," Dave replied, "I can definitely say that we got tanked last night, for sure." He smoothed out his wild blonde hair, looking around for his shades. "Shit, I need to find my sun block…."

My face got pulsing red when I realized Dave and I had slept all night like that on the couch. I vaguely remembered at one point snuggling him in a way that was… I guess more than platonic. When Dave stumbled to his feet and began to search the entertainment center for his shades and sun block, I crawled back onto the couch to bury my face into a cushion. I heard a door opening down the hall.

"Hi guys! Auntie Roxy is here to make breakfast." Roxy emerged from the hallway, flattening her hair and stifling a yawn. She was wearing pink sweatpants and one of Dirk's ironic pony shirts. "Or I guess…late lunch, at this point."

"Hey Rox…," Dave said, squinting his eyes at her. "You seen my shades?"

Roxy shook her head energetically, approaching the couch and plopping down next to me. Her subtle makeup still managed to look perfect even after sleeping. She patted my shoulder before swiping the glasses off my face and cleaning the lenses with the hem of her shirt. Plunking them back onto my nose, she looked at me with a concerned smile.

"How are you feelin', babe?" She snatched the throw off the back of the couch and tossed it onto my legs. I curled up under its warmth, avoiding Roxy's gaze.

"Like a train wreck," I replied.

"I'll second that," Dave inserted from the other side of the living room. He had found his shades in a flower pot near the door.

"Well," Roxy continued, "I have to apologize for all that last night. For Dirk, I mean, none of that was my fault." She grinned, beckoning Dave to come sit with us. He shrugged, sitting on the other side of me. "But," she let the word hang in the air as she deviously stared us down, twiddling her thumbs. I couldn't tell if she was concerned for our health or if she was hatching some diabolical plan. With the Lalondes, though, it could go both ways—my "cousin" Rose always had some sort of no good to get up to under the guise of brilliant ideas. We weren't really related (Dave and Rose were actual cousins), but we had known each other since birth. It's a wonder Roxy and I weren't closer than barely knowing each other's ages.

"But?" Dave inquired, leaning forwards a bit.

"Dirk spiked the punch – the Faygo – because he wanted to get a little truth out of you two. About your feelings for each other."

Dave looked away immediately, covering up the action with a fake cough. I furrowed my brow, glancing between Roxy and Dave with jumbled questions. What kind of feelings? Certainly she wasn't implying that….

"Uh," Dave said, "what?"

"Dirk has been suspecting for a long time," Roxy said, absentmindedly twirling her hair, "and I have too, that you two have some… chemistry goin' on."

"Dave is my best friend," I finally said, feeling like this was going a bit too far. "I don't know what kind of sick thing you're implying but…but…." I fumbled, trying to adjust the blanket over my legs into a more comfortable arrangement. "I'm not gay or whatever." I flung the blanket off in defeat, standing on unsteady legs. Where is my jacket…

"John, dear, just sit down," Roxy gently grabbed my arm and guided me back onto the couch with a stern gaze. "Dave? Any thoughts?" Roxy smiled at him, widening her pinkish eyes. The bright sun didn't seem to affect her as much as Dave since her albinism wasn't so pronounced.

"Uh, no," Dave replied quickly, shaking his head. I had known Dave long enough to know that under his un-changing features and those shades, he was nervous and shaken. Roxy reached over me and patted his head affectionately.

"I know you, cuz," she said, standing up. "Alright boys. Let's put the conversation on hold and fry up some eggs."

Oh good lord finally, I thought. Not only was that getting seriously awkward, but my stomach finally decided to begin eating itself. Dave stayed on the couch when Roxy and I headed into the kitchen. I looked over my shoulder at him, but he had his head in his arms, rocking back and forth slowly. He must've had a worse headache than I did.

A few burnt eggs and flaming napkins later, Roxy had set out on the kitchen table three plates of breakfast. She wiped her forehead, laughing nervously and nursing a blister on the back of her hand. I sat down in a chair at the fine oak table (easily the most expensive item in the Strider home) and picked up my fork.

"Why don't you go get Dave while I clean up?" Roxy asked, smoothing wrinkles out of the shirt she was wearing.

"Okay. And thanks Roxy," I said. "You made some serious sacrifices for this breakfast!" Roxy chuckled and I headed out into the living room to find that Dave was no longer sitting on the sofa. Curious, I headed down the hallway to find that he was not in the bathroom either, but the door to his room upstairs was suspiciously closed. Trying to ascend quietly, I knocked on the door with hesitant knuckles. From inside, I heard Dave shuffle before he opened up the door and peered out.

"Roxy made breakfast," I said, avoiding Dave's gaze.

"It's three o'clock," Dave replied hoarsely. I noticed that his nose was rather red and that his cheeks looked smeared with wetness.

"Alright, so she made lunch. Are you… were you crying?"

"I'm not hungry," he said quickly, closing the door. I stood out in the hall dumbfounded, not sure of what I should do.

"Dave…," I muttered. I know that whole situation earlier was compromising, but… Thinking about it again made my stomach churn in an odd way. God, he must really be repulsed by me. He must really hate me. I sighed, heading back down the stairs and into the kitchen, plopping down into my chair. Roxy looked up from the counter she was wiping down and raised an eyebrow. I frowned at her, trying to tell her that Dave was avoiding me at the moment. She seemed to understand, and she swept up Dave's plate and stuck it into the microwave for him. I ate slowly, thinking of all the things he might be saying about me at school on Monday… I just wanted to crawl into a dark place somewhere so that no one would know what kind of embarrassment I had suffered.

It's what I had imagined public school would be like – embarrassing. People would start talking, spreading information, then before long, I would wind up being bullied until I graduated. If I graduated.

Why would Dirk set something up like this? He really thought there was something going on? I sighed. Dave and I had been friends for years – since preschool. We went to some charity dance together, maybe two years ago, as friends. I know there are several instances where I stayed over at the Strider home because Dad and Nanna were arguing and I had cried on Dave's shoulder. We went to a movie together after a game night once and we skipped our classes that day because my Dad had died, not because we were on a date.

None of that meant anything romantic.

Roxy drove me home after I rinsed my plate off and little else was said between us. I greeted Nanna, told her I already ate, and then buried myself in my blankets with my laptop, trying not to think about Dave's dried tears.

*cue soap opera music*