MAH LOVELIES! Sorry for the wait! I told you, you never know when life will get in the way for me! I was swapped to dayshift this week. It's actually 30 minutes to midnight here right now, and I have to get up at 5 am, but it's worth it to update! (because I'm not tired anyway, really.) Also, I've been looking into the more…bizarre pairs of Homestuck. (What, Jake and John? No, why would I look at that? Nopenopenope, that's not me. I didn't look at that today. Nor did I read them in a foursome with the Striders. Nopenopenope.) So let's get on with your love, yo! luckycat222, Karkat IS hilarious! I think you might be pleased with this chapter. Don't be TOO scared. I like to poke fun sometimes. :3 Kira-Lime Orijima, *sigh* depraved little wanker. Haha, I guess it is similar to WTCF! Minus the unfathomable sadness, and not nearly as long, of course. I drank like six cups of coffee today, so I feel ya. Um. Dave needs to come back for this chapter… Guest, ah, THANK YOU! I did update! Kerra-Chan, always think of the pancakes! polyfandrous, John's adorable no matter what, yo! Ah, so glad you love how I'm writing them! Poor John is looking at a hangover. Shikuro-Chan, feels are always good though! Red-Rayne, thank you so muchhhh! Ur amazing, THANK YOU SO MUCH! It means so much, you don't even know! darkestlight96, pie DOES make everything Gucci. GodlytsundereLeo, I'm a blonde like Dave with eyes like John, haha. I'm not really into Nic Cage at all… BUT I'M REALLY GLAD YOU LIKE THE STORY! Grey Seas, making Dave obviously happy is actually really hard to do with his façade, so THANK YOU for catching onto that. ArtsyreaderVOI, yayayayaya, you are here again! And of course, dude, Rosemary is hot. Any hug is good for me! lovemahBF, ah, you quoted me! I love that! As usual, thankyousofuckingmuuuuch! Rai Rai Blue, in my defense. I wrote it before I told you I wrote it. So, uh, yeah. 'm glad you loved it! :D The Prius thing will happen. I'll make it happen. And you didn't go crazy, you're fine! So bluhhh! (hehehehe.) Sorry for rambling, you guys! ON WITH THE STORY!

Blue Eyes

(Cary Brothers)

[Wish enough, wise man'll tell you a lie. Window broke, torn up screens. Who'd have thought that you'd dream of a single tragic scene. I just wanna sing a song with you. I just want to take it off of you. 'Cause Blue Eyes, you are all that I need. 'Cause Blue Eyes, you're the sweet to my mean.]

"Dawvff, truh thiffff," John says happily, shoving a forkful of pancakes dribbling syrup into your mouth. He's grinning like an idiot at you with his own mouth full, syrup literally all over his face. He better be glad you like him so damn much, because he's seriously verging on getting smacked.

You're Dave Strider, and you've long since realized you're the most sober member of your current party. John is cozily beside you in the booth at the IHOP Roxy had mentioned, shoving down bite after bite of pancakes. You had ordered simple eggs and bacon, explaining that you weren't in the mood to have pancakes twice in one day, but he hadn't taken the news well. He literally got emotional over their behalf, saying you couldn't get tired of something and just throw it aside like it was trash. So then, you opted to share with him, deciding sharing a secondhand kiss on his fork was worth a stomachache later. And finally, the point you're at now, is when he decided to feed you himself, which you were cool with, until he decided to sneak attack you with the fork. Now you're putting your hand over his, and directing him back to his own plate.

"Seriously, you two can't even eat without being all over each other? Color me disgusted," Karkat drawls, carefully eating a strawberry. "Wait, did I seriously just say 'color me'? Dear God, I hate myself." Gamzee cracks up from beside him, adding sugar packet after sugar packet to a cup of coffee. He had been upset to learn that IHOP didn't have pie, but had cheered up at the prospect of pie flavored pancakes. Thus, he ordered a monstrous stack of apple cinnamon whatever-you-wanna-call-it, and ate all of it at the speed only someone suffering from serious munchies could've done. Karkat ordered the strawberry crepes, and is eating them as slowly as he possibly can, occasionally hissing obscenities at all of you, and more recently himself, saying he hates past him, but future him is worse. You're not following any of it, because you're too busy watching John.

He's acting like he's having the time of his life, obviously at the peak of his drunkenness. You're hoping the food absorbs the alcohol, and that he doesn't end up vomiting everywhere, but you suppose he'll show some signs of that before it happens. You know for a fact he's never been drunk before, and he'll probably have a hell of a hangover later. But it's cool. You'll play nurse for him if you have to.

"Dave!" he leans against you, shoulder hitting yours and knee brushing against yours under the table. He seems unable to keep his hands to himself while intoxicated, and you're secretly enjoying it way more than you should be.

"Sup, bro?" you ask. He reaches up to brush his thumb against your lips, a goofy grin on his face before he brings it back to his mouth, tongue poking out to lap at his fingers. You sputter like an idiot when he does the same thing again, giggling happily to himself.

"You've got syrup all over your mouth," he explains. When his hand rises again, you grab his wrist, halting his movements. He stares up at you, eyes wide under his lashes, and you're very, very glad he can't see yours through your shades.

"You're covered in it too," you whisper, not sure why you can't get your voice any higher. He cocks his head to the side as if he doesn't understand the issue.

"Get it off," he says, voice also low with a hint of something you can't begin to grasp. Holding your breath, you reach out to brush your fingers over his face, making sure to trace his lips carefully. His eyes darken as he looks up at you, but he doesn't move. Then you lift your hand, licking one of your fingers the same as he did to his. He makes an odd noise in the back of his throat, before leaning forward shamelessly to lick your thumb, pulling it into his mouth, gaze never leaving yours. Your free hand grips the table as you bite your lip to stifle the fucking gasp he just caused.

"You two better not start going at it while in my company. I think I speak for Gamzee and I both when I say neither of us want to see that," Karkat says, snapping you back to reality. You look over at him, half thankful, and half furious at him for ruining whatever that just was. John's drunk, you tell yourself. He doesn't know what he's doing.

"I think it's motherfuckin' cute," Gamzee says, sipping at his coffee. "Does a heart good to watch two people in love. Gets a motherfucker all warm and fuzzy."

John whines when you pull your hand away. You reach for a napkin and clean his face off in a less intimate way, making him giggle again when you push his face away dramatically.

"Are you guys ready to go?" you ask, knowing you'll do something you regret if you keep sitting in such close proximity to John. Karkat stands immediately, tossing a few bills on the table for his food. Since your waitress is outside smoking, you all opt to do the same instead of waiting for her. John doesn't notice you picking his money up and putting your own down. You figure buying his food is the least you can do since he drove you all the way here and is letting you crash with him. Not to mention this latest gig is paying you an arm and a leg, so you have some cash to spare. You help him out of the booth, and keep a grip on him as you venture outside, knowing he's not sober enough to walk on his own. Gamzee does the same for Karkat.

"I don't like this at all," Karkat says for the fiftieth time as you venture outside. "This part of the city is seedy as fuck. We're going to be attacked by huge radioactive cockroaches or something."

"You could've said gangsters or drunk drivers, but no, you went with radioactive cockroaches. Super realistic, dude," you say, dodging a punch he directs your way.

"Shut the fuck up, Strider. As if you're the person I want to get lectured on reality by. If only we could all live in fantasy worlds and spin records for a living. Oh, what's that? Your plan in life isn't to leech off the idiots in society until you die? I'm shocked. Really."

You open your mouth to respond, but John beats you to it, looking over at Karkat with a very serious expression.

"Karkat. You need to stop talking. You sound like Invader Zim when you ramble." You can't fight the laughter that spurts from your mouth as you reach up to remove your shades, hanging them off the collar of your shirt. It's too dark to keep them on.

"And fuck you too, Dib."

"Karbro, you need to be getting your chill on."

"I'm perfectly calm!"

"Doesn't he sound like Zim, Dave?" John asks, wrapping both arms around you as you walk. You'd return the gesture, but his awkward height proves too difficult, so you settle for slinking an arm around his shoulders.

"Exactly like him, my man," you reply, elated when he sends you another megawatt grin. "You feeling better?" He nods enthusiastically.

"I feel great! Tonight was fun. You're so fun, Dave," he pauses, an odd shadow crossing his face. "I wish you didn't have to leave."

"John."

"I know you have to. I'm not drunk enough to think you can just stay forever. But I can wish it, right?" He looks at you again with another smile, but you can see right through it.

"Let's not talk about that right now, babe. It's a few days away, right?" you drawl, tugging him closer. "We Striders don't think about the future too much. You gotta live in the moment."

"I really like it when you call me names like that," he says suddenly before you finish your sentence. "Pet names? I think that's what they're called. I like those. Not from everyone. I mean, if someone else called me baby or something, it'd be weird. My dad called me that once. I told him no. Never again. I'm a boy, it's too weird. But you, I like when you do it. It feels right, y'know? You feel right, Dave." He stops walking, making you halt with him. "I- I really mean that."

Unable to stop yourself, you pull him close again, burying your face in his hair and inhaling deeply, surrounding yourself with his scent. John Egbert, John fucking Egbert. You don't think you could possibly be more in love with him.

"What you said- at the club," you breathe, "it's… I mean, shit, bro. It's mutual. It's so fucking mutual." His face buries in your chest, fingers clenching your plaid over shirt, bunching the fabric. You're not even sure if he remembers what he said. You know you shouldn't be getting into this until he's sober, but fuck it all, you can't. You're no good at this feelings shit, and you aren't in the right place to have a feelings jam, but you can't help but feel like it has to be now. Karkat and Gamzee are so far ahead of you two, they're not even visible anymore, and there's no one here to witness this except for John. So finally, after what feels like years you didn't even know you were waiting; you tilt his face up with your fingers, and press your lips to his.

Fucking fireworks and sparks- you never thought that hype was real. You'd kissed plenty of people before, much more heated than this. You'd done things you weren't proud of, but none of it mattered in hindsight. It was something to do, you had figured. If you knew it could be like this, you'd have waited. As soon as your lips touch his, something happens. You're not sure if it's sparks per say, but it's pretty fucking close.

John is clearly not experienced, and the fact that he's still not sober isn't helping, but the clumsy way he presses back against you and wraps his arms around your neck, standing on the tips of his toes to apply more force, still sticky syrup hands against your neck- it's goddamn perfect. You sigh against his lips happily, not even trying to deepen it. He's still drunk, and you're not going to risk taking advantage. This is enough. This is more than enough. This is everything.

You pull away from him, kissing his face, brushing your hands over his skin. His eyes open slowly, looking a darker blue under his lashes. John's looking at you like he doesn't know whether or not you're actually there. His fingers grip in your hair tighter, but not really enough to hurt. His awkwardness is slowly making this the best kiss you've ever had.

"I'm not good at this," he mumbles, staring at your lips with a dazed look as he sways on his feet.

"It's better that you're not," you laugh. "Makes it better. You still taste like syrup." He laughs like you just told the funniest joke in the world, and leans against you heavily.

"I'm sleepy."

"You're still drunk. You won't even remember any of this later."

"Then you'll just have to remind me."

You kiss his forehead, smiling like an idiot, grateful he can't see how in tatters your façade is right now. He makes a humming noise, supporting all his bodyweight on you.

"You boys lost?" a deep voice asks. You look up to observe a large man in a denim shirt, sporting a 'ZZ Top' beard, three more equally large men behind him. Normally you wouldn't be so wary, but it's dawned on you that these guys don't exactly look friendly. You shake your head.

"No. We're just having a moment. Is that okay with you?"

"Seems to me you fags are getting ready to fuck in the street," Denim shirt drawls. "You think that shit's okay?"

"I don't really think it's any of your business, dude."

They start laughing, one of the smaller guys mentioning that you're getting smart. Instinctively, you shove John behind you, who clutches your shirt tighter.

"Dave…"

"It's alright," you tell him. "Worse comes to worse, you run, Egbert. Just get the fuck out of here."

"No way!"

"Don't be an idiot, bro. You can barely stand!"

"I'm not leaving you."

"Jesus fuck you are so goddamn stubborn."

"And you're an idiot!"

Denim shirt's moved closer, followed quickly by his lackeys. They're all pretty big, and you're trying to calculate how you can defend both of you while helping John escape. If it was just you, it wouldn't be a big deal. You've fought Dirk's crazy ass on a rooftop with swords in the Texas heat more time than you can count- but you don't have a sword right now. And you have more to worry about than yourself.

You think of your phone, back at the club on top of the turntables backstage. You hadn't thought you'd need it. You think of Gamzee and Karkat far ahead of you, probably waiting for you back at the club, wanting to give you and John privacy. You think of the lecture you'll receive from Lalonde and Harley if anything were to happen to either of you because you weren't watching your backs. You think of Dirk, shaking his head at your lack of discipline and Jake fawning over any potential injuries. And last, you think of John, safely beside you, but still in so much danger, whimpering behind you, but still being stubbornly brave because that's just the kind of idiot he is.

And you know you'll do whatever it fucking takes to protect him.

One of the guys has dreads. He tells you to give them your wallets, and they'll let you go. You know better than that shit. You refuse, dodging when he lunges at you both, aiming a kick in his stomach. When he flies back, it seems to release the flood, and they all jump at once, seeming to go for you since you hurt one of their guys. You're chill with that. Whatever keeps the attention off of John.

It's a blur of fists and kicks, and you're pretty sure by the sudden gash in your arm that one of them has a knife. With all the adrenaline and alcohol in your veins, it's hard to pay attention. You're only acting on impulse, relying on your body to just know what's right. An arm grabs you from behind, wrapping in your shirt and holding you in place. There's a gasping noise when the hand releases you, and you turn your head to see John's got him pinned to the ground, struggling to hold him there.

Denim shirt seems to realize John's the weak point, because he lunges for him, grabbing him by the throat and holding him up while he claws desperately, kicking at his assailant, and you forget everything as you rush towards them, blinded by concern, when you're tackled to the ground because you left yourself open.

John screams above you, and you shout at the men holding you down, and then-

BANG.

A shot rings out in the street, bouncing off the alley walls and making everything stand still. Shit, they have a gun. Shit, they shot John. He's dead, John's dead, oh God, oh God, oh God-

"Let them the fuck go, you soon to be filled with bullets motherfuckers."

And you've never had a bigger urge to French kiss a clown.

The weight lifts off you and you scramble to your feet, holding your arm where the blood is gushing through. John is on the ground, staring up at you, his lip busted and bleeding profusely. He takes your hand when you stretch it out, looking close to tears and silently begging you to run with him, which you do. Gamzee is standing at the far end of the street, slowly making his way closer with the gun held high, Karkat behind him with eyes as wide as plates. You realize he must have shot it in the air.

"Shit, you're both bleeding, oh fuck," Karkat hisses, grabbing you both and pulling you behind Gamzee. "We thought you were just making out or something, but then we heard screaming. Are you okay?"

You vaguely hear him as you inspect John's injuries, which seem pretty simple despite the blood all over his face. You tear off a piece of your shirt and sop some of it up, careful not to push against his lips too hard.

"You motherfuckers stay where you are, or I'll blow your goddamn brains out," Gamzee says, slowly backing away and motioning for you to follow.

"Gamzee, we have to go! You can't be seen with a gun, you stupid shit! You're on probation-" Karkat hisses under his breath, silenced by a cold glare from Makara.

"You know how to use that thing, kid?" Denim shirt asks. Gamzee's finger is still on the trigger, a grim look on his face.

"Oh shit, oh shit, oh fuck, Gamzee Makara, do not put me in this position!" Karkat snarls, tugging his shirt. "Put it down and come on. So help me I will pap the shit out of you!"

Gamzee begins backing away slowly again, and you all follow, careful to keep your eyes on the offenders before breaking into a full run towards the club, Gamzee shoving the gun back in his baggy pants pocket.

"How the hell did you get a gun?" you ask incredulously, looking over your shoulder to make sure no one is following.

"Had it for years, motherfucker. What kinda brother would I be if I wasn't all up and packing heat to save your asses? Shit's crazy as hell though. Never thought I'd need it."

"Yes, and I see you just shoved it in your pants. Are you eager to blow your own dick off, Gamzee? Because if you want to neuter yourself, there are better ways than running with a fucking loaded gun in your pants pocket!"

"Slow your roll, Karbro. There was only one bullet in the chamber. It ain't loaded no more."

"WHAT?! You just shot into the air- the only bullet you had- Jesus fucking Christ, you stupid garbage eating son of a bitch. You just saved our asses with one bullet. I fucking hate you right now."

You laugh as you run, hand still tight around Egbert's who's cracking a grin of his own, though he still looks terrified. You run inside to grab your phone and instruct Roxy to just have the movers ship your turntables back to your apartment. Dirk could sign for them later since he's so eager to sneak in and out of your place. Everyone else packs in John's Prius, Gamzee in the driver's seat. Karkat informs you that he's perfectly sober now, and they can take Gamzee's car in the morning to come get his car.

"Like hell I'm stepping out of this fucking vehicle into the streets," he hisses from the passenger seat. You're eager to crawl back with John, who immediately wraps around you, shaking like a leaf, but laughing too, and the absurdity of it all has you laughing with him until you're both cackling hysterically, you not even caring about your 'Strider façade' at this point. Karkat throws you a grin as Gamzee pulls out of the parking lot, informing all of you that his probation is for possession of marijuana, and you all better be "motherfuckin' glad y'all weren't caught with a hand cannon."

And you settle in the backseat, John practically in your lap, breathing against your neck and kissing your skin, telling you drunkenly how much you mean to him, which you return the best you can until he finally passes out in your lap, most likely doomed to forget most of the night ever happened. You hold him tightly, taking your phone out of your pocket to take a picture of this- just this- him curled against you with a serene expression, your shades back on your face, thankfully not a scratch on them despite the strife, and your faces pressed comfortably together, him breathing softly. You actually crack a smile, the flash going off for a second, making Karkat jump in the passenger seat and shoot you a glare, mumbling about shell shock and trauma. You look at the picture fondly, shamelessly making it your screen saver before sending it over Pesterchum to Jade and Rose, who had both sent you countless pesters about drunken John, and then tuck your phone back in your pocket, leaning against John and closing your eyes as Karkat and Gamzee start singing Tiny Dancer up front as they take you back to Egbert's tiny apartment, which has never seemed so inviting.

You decide, ups and downs included, that this was arguably the best fucking night of your life.

[All the lights on, and you are alive, but you can't point the way to your heart. So sublime, when the stars are aligned, but you don't know,
you don't know the greatness you are. 'Cause Blue Eyes, you are destiny's scene. 'Cause Blue Eyes, I just wanna be the one. I just wanna sing a song with you. I just wanna get it on with you. 'Cause Blue Eyes, you're the secret I keep. 'Cause Blue Eyes, I just wanna sing a song with you. I just wanna sing a song with you. I just wanna sing a song with you...]

Sachi: Yayyyy, I finally updated! And in case any of you are wondering, at the very beginning, John is saying, "Dave, try this!" Review for love because you know you want it, and I really want it too. Let's make this mutual, yo. We can hug bump like the best of chums.