"Would you like to come back to my place?" He looks at you expectantly, his eyes open and pulled up in a slightly worried expression behind his new glasses. You decide he's right and it can't get any worse than this and so you nod. "Cool." He closes his laptop and tucks it into his bag. You carefully wrap the discarded paper back around the gift and tuck it into your backpack. You have never been so glad before to have such a large bag. The two of you stand up at the same time, but you let him lead.
As the bells above the doors chime, you are hit with a faceful of sharp cold air that makes you scrunch down into your jacket. You hope that Dave's place isn't far. You look up and catch sight of his white blonde hair ducking behind a small group of people and you scramble quickly to keep up.
Turns out you didn't really need to and your wishes about a close apartment are answered as Dave is literally one door down holding it open. You glance up. These are the apartments over the coffee shop. You grin at him as you quickly get inside the moderately warmer entrance hall. You sigh in relief as soon as you get away from the wind. The door closes behind you with a heavy thud that echoes across the swanky marble surfaces of the large room.
"I really wish they would go ahead and put a door between the lobby and that coffee shop."
"You live above the coffee shop."
"Yep. Why do you think I am always at this one?"
"I don't know, maybe you liked their coffee? The atmosphere? The baristas?"
"All of the above, but mostly for the convenience. Though they really need to start taking my request for a door more seriously. I am not built for the outdoors; I need to be pampered at all times lest something happen to this fair pale skin." You take his monologue as a chance to look around. Your first impressions hold up under scrutiny. This place is really high end. It makes you want to take off your shoes and tuck them nicely in a corner where they won't scuff any of the shiny surfaces. "I've actually been invited to beauty pageants. Bro was tempted to put me in but couldn't make up his mind over whether I should wear a suit or a dress." The art hanging on the wall is some post-modern warping of gold medal that you don't understand at all. All of the furniture is velvet and very rich looking. "Not that I had any input on that decision of course. I had no autonomy as a little kid. Are you gonna come up or just stand there all day?" It takes you a moment to realize that he has once again transitioned from ramble to a question directed at you. You look to him and find him mostly across the room heading towards the elevators.
"Right. Sorry." You duck your head in embarrassment and follow him quickly.
"No problem. This place is pretty lavish, luxurious, deluxe, flamboyant, chichi, ostentatious-"
"Stop reading the thesaurus in your head." He shrugs at you as the elevator chimes happily at you. "Does blogging really pay this well?" You might have to take up the new occupation if his answer is yes.
"Nah. Mostly I am living off of what my brother left me when he left. He was loaded." He pushes the button for his floor.
You feel like such as ass stumbling onto that one, but you honestly didn't know. You can feel your cheeks heating up again. "I'm sorry for you loss," you mumble out, finally remembering enough of your manners.
"Huh?" He quirks an eyebrow up in your direction. It manages to clear the top of the new shades. "Oh. No. He's not dead, doofus. He's just out exploring jungles and raiding sacred tombs with his boyfriend. Like he would leave me alone that easily." The elevator dings open and you follow him down the hallway. When he stops to fish his keys out to unlock his door you are suddenly struck by the absurdity of the situation.
You have never been a social person. All through grade school you were the loner that sorta just disappeared on the fringes of the crowd. You didn't quite mind because while you weren't popular (or had any friends really), you weren't picked on or bullied in any way. You've always held yourself apart from everyone else except for your father. But ever since you moved out of your childhood home you've been studying, working, or surfing the internet. You didn't do the social scene, and yet here you are about to walk into the apartment of a stranger you met a little over a month ago like he's your best friend or something. (Does being your only friend automatically make him your best friend? Would he mind you calling him your best friend? What if he has other friends? What if he already has a best friend? You are starting to panic, aren't you?)
"Come on in, dude. Mi casa es su casa. Make yourself at home. Feel free to raid the pantry if you find yourself needing a snack." You snap back to your surroundings at his voice finding the door finally opened. It leads into a short foyer where he is kicking off his shoes. You step inside before you make the conscious decision. You glance around quickly, trying to keep from looking too nervous.
"I didn't think you would be this Christmas-y," you comment as you point out the red and green decoration hanging from the overhead light. Dave follows your finger and sees what you are pointing at. With a swagger he steps directly underneath it and smirks at you.
"What? And miss out on the tacky sweaters and eggnog and christmas specials playing 24 hours on tv?" You can't quite tell if he is being ironic or sincere about that. You have a nagging feeling he might be the latter. "Oh and the best part." He pointed up and you notice a couple white spheres sticking out of the very bottom.
"Mistletoe?"
"Yep. And I guess I am standing underneath it. How 'bout that," he deadpans.
"Wha?" Your brain short circuits momentarily. A couple seconds ago you were having a miniature internal breakdown about entering Dave's apartment and now he wants to kiss you. Or really, he wants you to kiss him. You think at some point your brain is literally going to melt out of your ears will all of the shit that has gone on today.
"Don't flip out on me. A kiss on the cheek will do." His words focus your attention on him. Your first impression is nonchalance but as you study closer you notice the little signs that give him away. It's not much but you have somehow picked up the art of nuances by hanging out with Dave and today alone you have learned about his nervousness. "I apologize ahead of time for the atrocity that is my gift to you." He was nervous about giving you the Slimer. He scratched the back of his head as he asked you up to his place. And now, his eyes are wide, only barely visible behind his glasses, his shoulders are hunched up just slightly from their normal curve, his fingers are twitching very slightly to some unheard rhythm. He's scared. And for some reason that calms you.
You smile softly at him as you take the two steps to stand in front of him. He's gone perfectly still. Without thinking any further on it, your hands come up to cup the sides of his face, your head tilts to the side just slightly, and your lips presses against his. Your first sensation is warm/soft. The second is cinnamon and coffee. He doesn't react for a half second before he starts to kiss you back. It's a subtle change (but everything about him is subtle). His hands move from his sides to your waist.
Somewhere in the back of your mind you are simultaneously surprised and proud at your actions.
But mostly you are happy.
And wow this is a good kiss.
Like neither of you are pulling away yet.
You could get use to this.
After a totally appropriate time you gently pull away, noting how he leans into you to follow your lips for just a moment before he catches himself. He recovers quickly and tries to replace his usual stern 'poker face,' but you catch the shadow of the same smile you are wearing. You lower your hands and he removes his.
"Well, that is one way to handle the mistletoe." His voice holds the deadpan tone that you are used to but his face betrays him with a soft pink glow.
"So are you going to show me the rest of the place or are we just going to hang out in the hallway?"
"Right. Shoes off and you can drop the bag here, well don't like chuck it into the corner or something because I really don't want to have to repair yet another wall and don't ask it's not a good story, just some brotherly strifing in close quarters, but I like to think that I am now a master drywaller though my paint skills could use some work." While he talks you follow his instructions and follow him into the kitchen. You lose track entirely of what Dave is saying as you take in the kitchen. It's a thing of beauty with black granite countertops and stainless steel appliances. Your dad would be drooling over it. The cherry wood cabinets and hardwood floor makes the place feel surprisingly warm. As does the heater, you note as it kicks on. You shrug out of your jacket and hang it on the back of one of the bar stools/chairs at the bar/island in the middle of the kitchen. You start wandering around while he drones on.
You take a closer look at the appliances on the back counter. You recognize the mixer and microwave, but not the third piece. When you get near you realize that it is one of those fancy cappuccino machines. "You literally live above a coffee shop and you have a cappuccino machine," you interrupt his monologue.
He shrugs at you. "It's ironic."
The sleek refrigerator calls to you. You want to know more about Dave and what better way than through the contents of his fridge. You open the doors and peek inside. Every single shelf is lined with either eggnog or apple juice. There is honestly no room for any actual food. You feel your jaw drop a little. You didn't know you were allowed to buy that much eggnog.
"Dave, you have a drinking problem."
"I warned you about the eggnog."
"But the apple juice?"
"I like apple juice. You gotta problem with that?"
"Nope." You just shake your head and close the door. When you turn back to him, he is in the middle of taking off that gigantic sweater. His undershirt has clung to the yarn so you get a nice eyeful of this bare torso. He's not really exaggerating when he says he has 'fair pale skin' but you didn't realize that it was covering pure toned muscle. You instantly feel a little self conscious about your own abs (or lack thereof). This is so unfair. He gets the money, good looks, and ability to give perfect gifts. (Did you just call him good looking?) He manages to get the sweater halfway off before his arms become stuck in the fluffy mass, unable to get any traction or leverage. He twitches a couple times before you see his shoulders slump in defeat.
"Okay. Yea. This is most embarrassing." He pauses. "Well, are you just gonna enjoy the view or help me out?"
You laugh at him and go over to help. You pull down his undershirt with a wistful expression that you are glad he can't see before you work the red mass over his arms and head. When it finally comes off you laugh again at the state of his hair. The static charge from the knitted yarn has made it stick out in all directions like one of those craft pom poms. He quickly ran his hands through the thin white strands but it didn't help much.
"Shut up."
"Why? It's cute." What did you just say? You hold your breath for a moment. You totally didn't mean to say that outloud. What were you even doing thinking that? You wait for him to be weirded out by that but then he smiles at you. It's just a little one like the one that you saw after the kiss (you are still not a hundred percent over the kiss).
"Whatever. So now that we are here and you seem perfectly sound of mind and breathing properly without reminders, what would you like to do?" You hate this question. You absolutely despise it. As soon as someone asks it, your mind goes entirely blank. Hang out suggestions? 404 Error, file not found.
"Uh..." Very eloquent.
But Dave seems to pick up on the problem and covers for you. "I have some shitty video games we could play or we could watch a movie or we could do each other's nails. I think Bro left some of his neon colors. How do you feel about fuschia glitter? I think it's called 'Notice Me' or something like that."
"Movie is fine."
"Cool. I got a collection or we could find one of those Christmas specials I was talking about." Again you get the feeling that his love for Christmas specials isn't 'ironic' or any other form of bullshit he usually tries to pull.
"Shit, let's be Christmas-y."
"Sweet. Okay, so I'll find something on cable and you hook us up with some popcorn. In the pantry, third shelf? Maybe. I don't know. Just dig around in there until you find it."
"Okay." You head back to the kitchen and after a couple long seconds of searching you finally find the pantry. Then it takes you another couple long seconds to find a packet of popcorn because they totally weren't on the third shelf. Try the sixth. You throw two packets into the microwave and then go through nearly all of his cabinets to find a bowl large enough for the snack. When the popping drops off enough you pull the bags out and dump their hot salty buttery goodness into the bowl and head back over to where you hear the opening credits to something playing from the television.
You have to pause at the back of the couch to admire the setup that was the entertainment center. Everything is sleek and black and fancy as hell. The screen takes up most of the wall and the rest are for the speakers, not including the ones set around the rest of the room to ensure surround sound goodness.
"Gimme! Gimme my om noms!"
You look down and see a pair of grabby hands reaching up from the couch. Looking beyond them you see a cocoon of blankets topped by a pair of shades. You are thoroughly impressed by the detail of the bundling. You aren't even sure how he got his arms out.
"What."
"Gimme!" he repeats. You blinks at him. Obviously you've blown a fuse somewhere in your brain and you are imagining this childish behavior in someone who prides himself on his deadpan abilities and famed 'poker face.'
"What?" you dumbly repeat.
"The food. Come on and get seated. The credits are nearly through." He wiggles around so that he is no longer stretched along the couch, giving you room. With a resigned sigh you move around from the back and take the proffered seat, making sure to stay on your cushion and not brush against him. That doesn't stop him from promptly grabbing the bowl from your hands and then flopping against you. You tense briefly at the unexpected contact but you aren't as freaked out as you thought you would be. It's actually... nice? You nod to yourself. Even though he is invading your personal space, you are okay with letting him in. You think it might have something to do with the kiss. And maybe something to do with the fact you want another...
You turn your attention back to the television to get yourself off of that train of thought. You find that the chosen Christmas film is one of those claymation classics. You can't help but smile at the cheesy choice because you know that Dave will argue to his dying breath that he has chosen it for ironic reasons when it probably is a favorite of his.
At the next commercial break, you glance over at him and notice that he is still wearing the shades you got him.
"Don't you want to take those off?"
"Nope."
"Are you ever going to take them off?"
"Nope. I am going to have them surgically grafted onto my face so that I won't ever even accidently take them off."
"That sounds excessive. But I am glad you like them."
"I really like them. Thanks." You understand that he is being sincere when his voice drops into a soft tone.
"You're welcome. But seriously, let me go turn the lights off so that you can ironically enjoy the movie without them."
"But it's such a perfect ironic gesture to wear sunglasses inside!" He shifts his shoulders just enough that you are effectively trapped. Impressive.
"Come on. Let me up."
"Nope."
"Please."
"Nope."
"Come on!"
"Nope."
"Well, tough." You grab him and push him off. Immediately he makes himself stick straight, making it harder without the proper leverage, but you manage to lift him clear enough to slip off the couch, dropping him back into your spot with a soft thump.
"Whoa. Who woulda thunk that a nerd like you had that much muscle?" he calls out to you as you walk around and hit all of the light switches. The curtains over the windows are already closed so the room becomes a nice and cavelike. With only the soft glow from the television, you make your way back to the couch. Dave has already sat back up to let you take your spot back.
"There. Now we have the proper movie watching environment so you can take off those glasses."
"Fine, fine." He lifts him off of his face with a care greater than you treat your prescription frames with. Suddenly you find your lap full as he apparently decides that the end table on your side is where the shades should be. You freeze up a little and push yourself back into the couch to get out of his way as much as possible. You start to relax a little as he draws back but then he stops halfway and just sorta drapes himself across your lap.
"Um..."
"I am commandeering your lap."
"Uh..."
"And no there is nothing you can do about it."
Well, there is, but for some reason you don't actually want to shove him off onto the ground despite what you thought your natural reaction would have been. Instead you take a deep breath and accept the situation. You realize that your hand is floating awkwardly in the air so you tentatively lower it until it is resting on top of Dave's blanket cocoon.
It's kinda hard for you to pay attention to the movie while Dave is laying on top of you. You feel super aware of him, of his heat, of his breathing, of the way he laughs lightly at the humor in the movie in a way that you would have missed if you hadn't been touching him. You are sitting in the dark with a guy draped across your lap. A guy that you kissed not twenty minutes earlier. You are waiting for your neuroses to kick in but instead you are quite comfortable. And you keep thinking about that kiss. No it wasn't your first one (you aren't that socially inept), but you'd rank it in the top three of the best kisses you've had. You wonder if the next one will be as good-
Wait.
Next one?
You force yourself to pay attention to the antics of elves and reindeer and misfit toys.
Which is definitely easier said than done.
You didn't realize one guy could produce this much heat. You briefly wonder how he didn't overheat (or spontaneously combust) in that giant sweater.
How weird would it be to touch his hair? Probably pretty weird. But it looks so soft. Damn.
Oh look a giant angry yeti.
Rudolph has a red nose and Dave has red eyes. Well at this point, you aren't sure that he owns anything besides jeans that doesn't have red on it. It's a good thing you like red.
Rudolph and company save Christmas! Yay. Wait. That means the movie is over. But you really don't want to move. Because that means that Dave won't be on your lap any more. You stay perfectly still as the credits scroll up the screen.
He starts shifting in your lap as the programming shifts to a commercial. He pulls away slowly (reluctantly?) to sit up on his knees.
"Uh John..." he begins. That slight nervousness is back. "How are you doing? I mean you haven't run screaming out of my place so I'll take that as a good sign. I mean, what I am trying to say is that... you are a good friend and I don't have many of those. Plenty of fans and some really creepy and obsessed fangirls that would kill to get a lock of my hair to put in locket or some other satanic ritual. There's my weird family, but honestly Bro's never around and Rose isn't even my real sister and she's all the way up in the Middle of Fuck Nowhere, New York. So having a real friend is kinda important, and I don't wanna fuck it up, but I kinda do wanna fuck it up, but in a good way if you know what I me-" you interrupt his pointless rambling with a kiss. And yes. It is just as good. If not better.
When he relaxes into the kiss, it definitely gets better.
Like holy shit.
This kiss just blew past the others one. What other kisses? Have you ever been kissed before? Apparently not if this is what kisses are supposed to feel like.
Some small part of your brain is still functioning enough to bring your arms up to his shoulders and you can feel him hesitantly reach for you. Slowly, almost distractedly, the two of you come together. He sorta ends up in your lap again but only because you can't turn too much on the couch because he is sitting so close. You can't really get over how warm he is and how soft his lips are. Right now your lips are just pressing together but since you obviously don't know how to do kiss you are kinda scared to do anything else.
What if you are actually really terrible at kissing? Then he won't want to kiss you again and you really want to keep kissing him and kiss him again and again. You don't want to give away the fact that you aren't an expert at this, you don't know what you are doing. But what if he is expecting you to do something? What are you supposed to do? What is supposed to happen next? You can feel your heart speed up a little. You wonder if he can feel it. Hopefully, if he can, he just thinks you are excited (which you are) instead of nervous as hell. Where is all of your confidence from the mistletoe kiss? (You have no idea.)
Then he takes the lead and really starts to kiss you back. You are very relieved. Your brain is desperately taking notes about what to do. You settle for mimicking what he does as he starts to move his lips a little. You revel in the sensation of how they slide against yours. You pull him a little closer. Then you feel the tip of his tongue briefly peek out and brush against yours like a question. An invitation. Something that you return.
You can feel his lips quirk up in a slight smile. You probably would have missed it otherwise. But you can't dwell on it for long. Or more precisely, you aren't allowed to before his tongue comes back and catches yours. As you retreat he follows. You part your lips a little farther to let him in and god it feels amazing. His mouth is hot and inviting and tastes of popcorn but you suppose you taste of popcorn too so it's even. But that detail is pushed to the back of your mind as he continues to kiss you. Everything is pushed to the back except for him. (Are you even breathing?)
(That's actually a pretty good question.) You feel the dull burn of need for oxygen in your lungs so you regretfully close your mouth slowly, trying to balance the need to kiss with the want to breathe. (Wait. It's supposed to be the need to breathe and want to kiss...) Dave gets the idea and retreats and the two of you finally part with a smack of lips. You try to gulp down fresh air without panting too hard but you note he is doing the same.
"Um... so I guess you are amenable to this thing that we are doing. I mean you still feel like my best bro but I want to kiss you silly and that really isn't much of a bro thing to do. Is it bad that I really want both. You are my cake, John, to my Marie Antoinette. I don't care if everyone else is starving from lack of John, I really want to selfishly keep you for myself. And I am totally rambling again so I am going to shut up and let you interject into the conversation a little because I am pretty sure you haven't actually said anything in a while now that I think about it. But you don't have to if you don't want to, not pushing you into anything not even into speaking."
You just let the soft grin creep onto your face at his speech. His voice had a natural rhythm to it that you now recognize as a side effect from his rapping habit that he has posted to his blog every once in a while. The internet or his recording equipment really distorts his voice from what you are hearing now. You like the version you are listening too now much better. And you like how his lips move around the words. You are so taken with them that you don't realize that you are leaning in until you've closed half of the distance. And then you go ahead and close the rest.
You feel him relax against you, giving into the kiss. He's pulling away faster time, but stays close, leaning against you.
"You can't keep doing that."
"Doing what?" you ask innocently (you're not innocent).
"Kissing me to shut me up."
"But it's effective. And I think I like it."
"I like it too, but-" you interrupt him with a quick kiss. He pushes you away. "Dude." You grin at him. This is a great avenue for your pranking. "No. Seriously you can just say something instead of always ki-" Oh yes, this would be fun. "Really? I me-" Kiss. "Oh my go-" Kiss. "Jesu-" Kiss. "Are you rea-" Kiss. "Fine." And he initiates the next kiss.
This one holds longer and slowly shifts into an open mouth kiss. Our tongues brush against each other and it is still magic. After the initial push, the kiss turns lazy. You sink back into the couch, pulling him gently with you until he is basically on top of you. He's hot (temperature-wise (other-wise too but that's beside the point)) but that just highlights everywhere the two of you are touching. It amazes you that you are enjoying touching him and you actually find yourself wanting more. But would he want more? You don't even know if he wants this to be official. What if he doesn't? You feel something in your chest tighten up.
"Do you wanna be my boyfriend?" you murmur against his lips even before the decision to ask fully clears your brain.
"Yea," he murmurs back. And suddenly everything is right in the world.
You smile and pull him sideways onto the couch so that he is lying somewhat on top of you, turning him into a nice heated blanket.
The two of you kiss for a long while like that until the movie after next starts and you react violently to the sound of chipmunks singing. Dave laughs at you but changes the channel anyways. He settles back down where his head is lying on your chest. You wrap your arms around his shoulders. This is comfortable happiness.
It's another claymation movie but as long as it's not the chipmunks you put up with anything to stay under Dave.
You wake up to soft heat against your lips. You let it continue for some time, slowly responding with your own soft movements and murmurs. You smile at the faint laugh that comes from very close and is felt throughout your entire body. When your eyes finally flutter open, you find half lidded red ones looking back at you.
"Hmm... sorry," you yawn. "Must have fallen asleep."
"Am I really that boring, John? I am failing as a host if I cannot keep you entertained enough to stay conscious."
"You are an excellent host, Dave. I am just a terrible guest. So rude."
"Very rude. What am I going to do with you?"
"Kiss me some more?" you ask through a yawn.
"Promise not to sleep through the kisses?"
You think about this. You don't want to sleep through the kisses because the kisses are really nice but the trolls are coming and the people need their hero even if you are only wielding an abominable hammer and traveling with your dentist.
Wait.
What?
You have no idea where your thoughts just went? It feels like your brain is only half there because the other half is over in the Land of Wind and Shade calling up the lightening bugs.
Wait. You are doing it again.
"Can't promise. Can't even not sleep through thoughts. Time is it?"
"Four in the morning."
"Huh. Prolly should get home then."
"What? No. You can't go home right now. You can't even keep your eyes open." Oh, is that why everything is so dark? You open your eyes again and smile at your boyfriend (that happened before the dreaming right?). "Nah, John. You are gonna stay here tonight. I just was waking you up to see if you wanted too..." Dave trails off, thinking about something.
The way he says your name has perked you up a little, or at least enough that you are managing to keep your eyes open. You watch as he bites his lower lips and you are overcome with the urge to bite it yourself so you lean in for a kiss. After a couple seconds he is pulling away again, seeming to have come to a decision in his head.
"Would you like to go to my bed now?"
Somewhere in the back of your head you think that this might be a big deal but right now it just sounds like a perfect idea. "As long as Dave comes with."
"Of course, John. Though I'm right here you know."
Oh, that didn't stay in your head. It doesn't matter anyways because the idea was conveyed and Dave is currently extracting himself from his position on top of you and helping you to sit up. You cling to him sleepily as he pulls you to your feet. Together you stumble into one of the adjoining rooms. You are hit with the impression of organized chaos all thrown in tones of black and red. You don't have long to study it before he's talking again.
"Are ya gonna sleep in your jeans? I mean usually I shuck down to my boxers and I'll keep my shirt on since you are staying here and that might be too weird. I'll keep the pants on too if ya want." Instead of answering you simply comply with his suggestion of removing your jeans. You have your ghostbuster themed boxers on but since he got you the Slimer, you don't think he will care. In fact the way he's smirking means he thinks its cute. He replicates your actions and you find yourself admiring his card suit ones. You smile in return and pull him into a quick kiss before the two of you tumble merrily onto the bed. With some laugher and sleepy tussling, the two of manage to find comfortable positions entangled in the sheets.
"Good night, Dave."
"Merry Christmas, John."
Alright, after holiday shameless plug: If you liked My Dsmber then please go check out my other works. All Homestuck ranging from one shot to short story to epic novella.
Castle of Glass - What if Bro had an AI in his glasses as well and Dave found them after defeating Bec Noir?
When they come for me - Harem/Spa night with a weary but adventurous traveler and a very accommodating host.
Journada Del Muerto - Halloween Special. One shot of two boys having fun at a party.
Waiting for the End - A HUGE post-Sburb story about the ups and downs of a relationship with your best friend.
In Between - A collection of side stories to enlighten what the rest of the cast was doing in WftE.
I am also on Tumblr as AeacusTero and on AO3 as Aeacus. I have a pesterchum, aeacusTero. And I don't bite. Thanks for reading.