Two days later, the politeness is really beginning to wear on Dave. He sits on the couch, knees tucked to his chest, watching the movie beside a stationary John. Each boy gets their own cushion, and the gap between them is enough to make Dave sick. He's already stopped paying attention to the shitty film John had picked out; moving pictures hurt his unaccustomed eyes if he looks at them for too long, and he's already starting to feel the migraine prickling behind his temples. He watches John from the corner of his eye instead-the rise and fall of his chest, the way his baby blues clear when he takes in his favourite films.

Dave sighs and leans on the arm of the couch.

"Bored?" John asks, his eyes flicking from the screen to linger on Dave for a few moments.

"Tired."

"D'you want a nap?"

Dave wants to answer yes, but he knows it would be no use. He's bad at sleeping at the best of times; living in the Egbert house just makes it hell. There is always a stifling air around him, like he doesn't belong. He can't relax while they're still playing their game of courtesy chicken, which means he can't sleep, either. He has too many instincts telling him he's in the danger zone and, hell, they're probably right. This isn't his place.

"I'm fine," Dave lies.

"Are you?" John abandons his movie now, turning his body to face Dave. "I don't think I've seen you sleep for days."

Dave shrugs. "I sleep when you sleep, I just wake up earlier. I don't need it as much."

"Dave, that's really dangerous!"

Dangerous? Dave nearly laughs. Really, John? Is it dangerous? Am I going to die? No biggie, then, I'll just bounce back in a few hours or something. One if I'm lucky. Twenty if I'm not.

Instead, he just repeats, "I'm fine."

"Look, I know you don't really like me, but-"

"I don't not like you," Dave says dully. "I just don't like you, either."

"That doesn't matter! Jesus, Dave, I..." John makes a frustrated sound in the back of his throat and shakes his head. "You're really important to Rose. If you don't want to take care of yourself for you, do it for her. You need to rest."

"Where the fuck's this coming from?" Dave asks, feeling the faint stirrings of amusement in his chest. What the hell was John going on about?

"Just-just make sure you get some proper sleep!"

"Worried?" Dave means it as a joke, playing it in a jesting tone, but it misses its mark.

John's eyebrows knit together and he shouts, "Yes! For fuck's sake, Dave, you're-you're my friend!"

This startles Dave a little, making him glad he's wearing his shades. He isn't sure how he's supposed to react. He stares at the kid, who is clearly on the verge of some sort of breakdown, and all he feels is blankness.

"Hey, chill," says Dave. "I don't need sleep the same as you do. Just calm those rosy tits, Egb-Eggie."

Now John seems a little unsure, his voice dropping. "You still need it."

"I'm fine."

"Are you? I don't know what I'm supposed to believe from you, Dave!"

"Believe what you want to," Dave says. It doesn't matter to me.

"Come on. You need to rest." He's-what is that tone-pleading. "Please, Dave." Then the kid reaches out and touches Dave's arm and Dave jumps like he's been burned. This just freaks John out more and it looks like he's about to panic pretty hard.

"For fuck's sake," Dave growls. Before he realizes what he's doing, he's hooked his arm around John's neck and dragged the once-friend into his chest. "Just chill the hell out, Jesus fuck." John struggles against Dave for a few moments, but he has little stamina and soon collapses against the ginger.

"I just want you to be ok," comes a small, muffled voice.

"I am okay," says Dave. "Motherfucking peachy is what I am."

"That's what you say when you're not okay!"

"You're thinking of someone else, Egderp."

"No, Dave, I don't think I am!"

Dave sighs and drags his fingers through John's hair. "Just relax."

"I'm not the one that needs to relax!"

"I'm pretty sure that yeah, right now you are. Look, I'm here, I'm safe. What more do you want?"

"I want-I want to be friends, Dave. I don't want to keep doing this! I hate it. It's awful and uncomfortable and you hate me."

"I don't hate you," says Dave.

"It sure seems like you do!"

"Well, I don't." Dave's hand slides down to rest on John's shoulder, pinning him there. "I don't hate anyone. On a scale from zero to care, you rank slightly above the normal Joe."

"Because of Rose."

"Because of Rose," Dave agrees. "And because of this really lame dude I used to know."

Wrong move. Dave can feel John tense up and the tremor that runs down the kid's back vibrates his own hand. The only response Dave can think of is to pull him tighter, crushing the poor gangly boy against his chest.

"Just...just give it time, alright? And stop being so goddamn fucking polite, walking on eggshells like it's going out of style, it's annoying as fuck."

John nods into the orange shirt. "Yeah. Alright." Then he starts to laugh. "Hugged by a Strider! Guess I'm pretty damn lucky today, huh? You think you're allowed to do this, coolkid?"

Frustration prickles at Dave's sides and he says flatly, "I'm not a coolkid." He dropped that title like it was hot fucking years ago. He's no coolkid now. He barely passes as human on the best of days. Hobos don't get to choose.

John shifts until he's sandwiched between Dave and the back of the couch. He's too long for it, really, and his legs stick out over the opposite arm, but he seems to be more comfortable like that.

"You're really warm," John says.

"And you're cold as fuck."

"...yeah."

Dave glances down and paps John on the top of the head. "Doesn't fucking matter."

"Alright."

At this angle, Dave realizes that John's looking pretty shitty too-shittier than normal. There are dark bags under his eyes and his cheekbones seem particularly prominant from this view. Dave looks away. "Go to sleep, twat."

"You too."

"Yeah, maybe."

John struggles for a minute before extracting one pinned arm from beneath him and wrapping it around Dave's waist. "This okay?"

"Yeah, sure. Just don't go full tentacle monster on me. I've heard the tales. Seas part and sailors tremble and all that."

"Hehe. Yeah." John closes his eyes and Dave can feel his muscles relaxing. Good. It's easier to cope with the kid when he's asleep. "Dave?"

"Here."

"We can be friends, right?"

"Sure."

"...Friends again, right?"

"Yeah."

"Kay." With that, John switches to full-on sloth mode and conks out completely, a cold lump between Dave and the fabric of the couch. Dave wonders how Rose can endure the icy tendrils that are John's limbs, but soon he's lulled into surprising security by the closeness, the friendly touch. Maybe he can let himself enjoy it, just for now.

Dave sighs, stirs, and sleeps.