#davextavros

Today was the most nerve-wracking day you've had in a long while. Even more so because your father AND your tío decided to work double shifts, leaving you alone to entertain your soon-to-arrive guest, a.k.a. your new friend. Luckily, before he left, your father helped you clean every nook and cranny of this apartment. For having three guys living here, it wasn't as bad as you had thought it would be.

    You wheeled around your small sala, wringing your hands and glancing at the digital clock of your cable box. If you weren't about to have a heart attack and keel over right now, you didn't know how you could make it through the rest of the night alive. This was the first time you had a friend over since the accident, and it was the first time he had ever come over before. Not to mention he was a totally cool kid, but that you kinda-sorta-not-really-but-serious crush on him. How embarrassing did you have to be?

    There was a knock on the door. Oh, God, already?

    "W-Who is it?" You shout at the door, ruffling up your mohawk once more.

    "Jesus fucking Christ, who do you think?" You hear his southern drawl, a little more irritated than normal - but you attributed that to the heat.

    "S-Sorry..." you mutter as you wheel to the door and open it.

    Dave Strider stood in your doorway, dark glasses looking down at you. He wore a dark red wife beater and his ever present skin tight jeans; he held a plastic bag in one hand and a backpack slung on one shoulder. You could barely detect a smirk on his face, but it was there.

    "You gonna let me or...?" He quirked an eyebrow at you, and you saw his hair fly a little in the wind from your A/C.

    "Uh... y-yeah, of, of course!" You quickly move out of his way and gesture inside. The tan, blond boy saunters in.

    "Nice place," he compliments before dumping the plastic bag on your coffee table and dropping down on your couch, the backpack in his lap.

    "Oh, t-thank... you..."

    You look anywhere but at him, however you can see those black circles in the corner of your eye, looking your way. God, what were you supposed to do?

    "I brought the snacks," he said quietly, quicking the plastic bag with his sock-covered foot. "I hope you have some drinks."

    "Y-yeah! Um, water...juice...o-or some soda if you want. A-All sorts, right in the kitchen. Follow me," you quickly wheel into the other room, soft footsteps following.

    "Choice selection, amigo," he compliments, picking up a bottle of a random fruit-flavoured soda.

    "Yup."

    "We gon' do this?" He asks after a giant gulp - his adam's apple being very distracting.

    "Of course. I have my '64 set up in my room. Bring some drinks and the snacks. T-This way, please."

    He does as he's told, also picking up his backpack. You two head into your, now, very organized room. The boy slumps into your bed, laying back on it and smiling towards the ceiling. You try not to blush and, somehow, you manage to hide the light colour. You wait for about five minutes until he sits up, sliding out some old games and an extra controller.

    "Come on, homeboy. These sweetass legends ain't gon' play themselves," he grinned childishly at you.

    "That is a fact, Dave," you smile back, relieved he seemed very comfortable. After wheeling around to get things turned on, the two of you argue about which game to play first. But finally, you both settle on the edge of your bed, the glow of the T.V. on you both.

    Some hours later, you hear a grumble coming from your friend's stomach. "I-If you're hungry...uh, you should... probably eat," you suggest, leaning down to grab the snack bag. Unfortunately, he had the same idea.

    Your eyes  widen as you freeze. The pace of your heart, however, picks up, pumping too much blood to your face, causing you to feel much too warm. His hand doesn't move either, and you're actually grateful you can't see his eyes. What to do, what to do, your mind races. But before you can think of anything, he acts first.

    Dave played it off by slipping his hand into your palm, wrapping his fingers around your hand and pulling it up to rest on the bed between you two. Then, with his other hand, he pulls the snack bag into his hand. You watch as he selects some candy and tears it open with his mouth.

    "Incredible," you hear yourself whisper before you can stop. Damn it, you just meant to think that!! "Um..."

    "S'okay," he mutters, offering you the bag of Skittles. You accept it with your other hand as well.

    "... Thanks."

    The two of you sit in silence, munching on Skittles as you pass the bag back and forth. Your hands are still connected, and, for the first time, your palms aren't sweaty when touching someone else's hand.

    "You know..." he starts off, looking down. His glasses slide down his slender nose, exposing his eyelashes. If only his eyes weren't also looking down - what you wouldn't give to see his eyes. "You know, I've...liked you since I first met you. You were so nice to me on my first day here..."

    You almost can't believe what you're hearing. But then it sets in when he pulls your hands up. The two of you stare at the intertwined fingers and your heart bursts.

    "I like you, too, Dave," you whisper, smiling.

    "Good," he laughs, but you can see a blush spreading across his face.

    "But I think we should get back to some buttkicking, r-right?" You suggest, squeezing his hand before you both pull away.

AT: uH, hEY KARKAT DO YOU HAVE A, mINUTE,

CG: OH MY GOD WHAT IS IT THIS TIME TAVROS, IF YOU BRING UP FIDUSPAWN STATS IN THE GUISE OF INTELLIGENT CONVERSATION ONE MORE TIME I SOLEMNLY VOW TO PERFORATE MY OWN BONE BULGE AND WHISTLE THE SWEET SORROWS OF TORTUROUS AND BITTER AGONY AT YOU THROUGH MY NEWLY-SELF-INFLICTED BULGE-INSTRUMANGLER HYBRID AGAINST A BACKDROP OF MILLIONS OF GRUBS IN THE MOST PLATONIC HATECHORUS EVER BROUGHT ABOUT BY CARD GAMES FOR WIGGLERS.

AT: wOW IT’S ACTUALLY, nOTHING LIKE THAT AT ALL,

AT: i JUST WANTED TO SEE IF, yOU HAD A, mINUTE TO TALK,

CG: WOW THIS IS ACTUALLY SOMETHING SERIOUS ISN’T IT.

CG: SHIT PAST ME IS SERIOUSLY THE WORST FUCKING EXCUSE FOR A FRIEND ON THE PLANET.

CG: OH LOOK HERE COMES TAVROS SEEMS LIKE HE WANTS TO TALK, CLEARLY THE BEST OPTION HERE IS TO USE COLORFUL AND ILLUSTRATIVE INSULTS TO BERATE HIM FOR TRYING TO ENGAGE IN AN ACT OF CAMARADERIE, GOOD JOB JACKASS YOU HAVE JUST SECURED YOUR POSITION AS PROFESSORCERER EMERITUS AT THE ALTERNIAN ASPHYXIADEMY FOR FIRST RATE JACKASSASSINATORS.

AT:  uH, i THINK YOU’RE KIND OF GETTING OFF, tRACK HERE,

CG: SHIT SORRY, GO ON.

AT: wELL I WAS WONDERING IF, yOU KNOW,

AT: yOU'RE THE BEST I KNOW, aT GIVING ROMANTIC ADVICE,

CG: OH GOD HERE IT COMES.

CG: SHIT SORRY I DON’T EXPECT YOU TO FORGIVE PAST ME FOR HIS TRANSGRESSIONS EVEN IF I *DID* JUST FINISH BEING HIM LET’S JUST CALL ME AN UNSPEAKABLE NOOKSLOBBERING MORON AND MOVE ON.

CG: PLEASE CONTINUE.

AT: oK, jUST HEAR ME OUT,