Chapter Two

Dave pushed up his shades, smirking at the sight in front of him. The entire Sommers' house was already trashed. There were beer bottles and cans everywhere, wine glasses were being shattered against the brick wall, smoke and a slight hint of weed was pouring out from the inside, the music was ear bleeding to the point of no return, and condoms were strewn across the lawn, while many couples showed their happy parts to everyone who walked by.

Just another Alex Sommers party.

Dave walked through the doorway, leading into the house, and stepped over the broken down door and a few drunken bodies. The cool kid sauntered through the mess of sweaty and beer-smelling people, and made his way for the smelly kitchen.

Dave walked over to the large island in the middle of the kitchen, and grabbed a full bottle of Miller. He popped open the top with his teeth, and chugged down the liquid, until there was nothing left.

"And Mister Dave Strider, folks!" a drunken voice—which belonged to Sommers—slurred. "Let's all give him a motherfuckin' prize for his fabulous wins this evening! Chugging down a bottle of nasty beer and arriving at a party two hours late! Ah, let's see what he has to say!"

Dave rolled his eyes from behind his shades, and grabbed another Miller. "Fuck to the time," he grumbled. "I don't even want to be here. And haven't you ever heard the term 'fashionably late', Sommers? Or how about the term 'I don't give a flying fuck'."

"Shit to the core, man," Sommers sighed, grabbing a cigar out of his pocket. "I don't give a fuck about anything. And yeah, fashionably late, eh? That's what my sister says when she's pregnant."

Dave snorted. "Please. You're sister is a bottle blonde bleach whore. She's probably fucked Edward Cullen by now. Never know how hard that bitch'll bang."

"Ahaha she's here, you know. Quit collage 'cause she 'wasn't feelin her major'. Please. What major? She don't even have a minor. Well anyway, now that girl thinks she can just live with me now. Nah, man! She's gotta go! This is my man-hood! My crib! My hive! I gotta protect my reputation. I bring a new girl in here every night. Heh, last night I got myself a sceney queen. Pink hair 'n all. She was a good fuck… But not my type."

"Ah yes," Dave mumbled. "I forgot, you take after your whore-head sister." He took another swig of beer, and nodded to the door. "Why don't you go dance a little, man? You're as drunk as can be. Besides, maybe you can pick up an insecure emo. Those are always nice."

"Don't stereotype, man. Would Jesus stereotype you? No. I don't think he would."

"Yeah. Jesus would be too busy making sick beats with me while we throw a rave up in heaven."

"Hallelujah, my brother," Sommers mumbled, taking a deep inhale of his smoke.

"Oh fucking great. Shit-for-brains and his dumb-ass friend are in here. Yippee," a sarcastic voice mumbled.

Dave looked up and smirked. "Aw, Vantas! I though you liked me!"

Karkat Vantas is a five-foot, four inch midget of pure cuteness. Of course, he tries to act like a fucking douche. But all in all, it makes him look sweet and innocent, with his black, curly hair, chocolate-y brown eyes, and a permanent scowl on his face. He had three piercings in each ear, and has a tattoo of a crab on his back. It may seem like the dumbest tattoo ever, but Dave thinks it's sexy.

Vantas scowled. "Don't get your fucking high hopes up, you ignorant shithole. I can't fucking stand you."

Sommers giggled, and dropped his worn out cigar on the counter. "Hey… hey Karkat. Hey. Hey Vantas, guess what?"

Karkat scowled. "What the flying fuck could you possibly want, idiot?" he growled.

Sommers bit his lip as if concealing a burst of laugher. He let out a tiny giggle, and said, "Dave said he's gonna make love to you, while Lady Gaga and fireworks play in the background! Hehe! Then you'll serenade the song, 'Peacock' to each other. Heh! And I can't watch this time~!"

When Sommers was finished, Karkat's face was red—from anger or embarrassment?—and lucky for Dave, Terezi decided to walk at the perfect time, so she heard every word.

The blind girl raised her eyebrow, and cocked her hip to the side. "Oh is he now?" she growled. Then she advanced to Dave and back-handed, bitch-slapped him. "God you fucking whore!" Terezi turned around and walked out of the kitchen, dragging Karkat with her.

Sommers chuckled. "Pay~back!" he sing-songed. "Don't ever sing that song ever again!" Then he walked back out to the dancing area, where David Guetta was playing over the speakers.

Dave sighed, and grabbed a smoke out of his pocket.

This was going to be a long night.