A/N - I apologise that all of the chapters are so super-über short, but it's easier for me to actually continue to update that way. Alas, this is the final installment of this story, that of which I really hope you enjoy! This is a serious derailment from what I was going to have as the plot, because fuck it, I wanted to write a happy story for once. Please review it, so I know that people actually enjoyed this! Feel free to ask for requests, because I'm always more motivated to write when it's for someone, not just for the hell of it. There aren't any guarantees I'll write your request (because, face it, there's always stuff that a person can't get themselves to write well), but I'll definitely take them into consideration! I can't stress enough how much I love reviews and requests-they always make me strive to be a better writer. Thank you tons for reading!
Disclaimer - I do not own any of the characters. Homestuck belongs to Andrew Hussie and those terrifying lips of his.
They finished dancing out the song, changing their gears and adjusting to the new, slow tune playing. John's arms snaked around Dave's waist before he could protest, the blonde forced to be in the position of the girl and wrap his arms loosely around the other's neck. Dave mumbled something beneath his breath, but it only made John smile. From the Strider teen's body language, he could tell he was simply whining about it to keep up his image, otherwise seeming completely fine with it due to how close and relaxed they both still stood. "Stop pouting, Strider."
All John got in response from him was a small pap on the back of the head, causing a chuckle to escape his lips as they continued to dance, going in slow, methodical circles along with the music. Behind both boys' glasses, their eyes were lightly shut as they just focused on the feeling of one another in their arms. The light melody of the song drifted through their ears, neither having to think about the dancing, just letting it come to them. While everyone else was busy trying to cop a feel whenever they were out of the sight of the few supervisors, the two males just enjoyed one another's presence, minds drifting along on the music's wavelengths.
The song softly came to an end, and the lights went up, pulling everyone out of the darkness that they had been swaying to and fro, jumping up and down in for the last four hours or so. John made a slight sound of discomfort at the sudden brightness, Dave simply glad that his shades never left his face, keeping the seemingly blinding light away. After a few minutes of just standing there, everyone wandering out of the dance hall around them, they were ushered out into the chilly midnight air.
Once outside, Dave froze completely, in more way than one.
Upon the ground, a few cumulative inches of snow blanketed everything, sparkling enticingly beneath the dim yellow glow of the streetlights. John stopped walking after a metre or two when he noticed that Dave was no longer at his side. When he looked back, the blonde just stood on the steps of the grand dance hall—the only one in his little Washington town—shivering. It hadn't occurred to him that the Texan had never seen the sudden snow of a fickle spring, the glistening wonder that greeted them every year and coated the stone slab sidewalks. John was about to speak, about to hurry Dave up when the teen in the aces suit walked off past him, into the field of the park across the slushy street.
There, Dave just stared at the white layers of cold, glittery snow that lined the bare branches, coated the currently abandoned playground equipment—everything. He simply stood and stared, amazed by the simple precipitation. From where John stood across the street, it brought a smile to his face. Even Dave Strider could be subjected to childlike wonder. The Heir of Breath picked up a handful of the damp snow as he made his way across the street, standing not far back from Dave before tossing the balled up snow at his the unmoving blonde head.
Something black fell into the shallow depths of the snow at the contact.
It took a moment before John realised that Dave Strider's aviators were no longer obscuring his eyes, but sitting still in the snow—and Dave wasn't even reaching to pick them back up. John crept cautiously towards Dave, picking up the unintentionally discarded sunglasses and going to hand them to him. Now, though, it was his turn to freeze as his eyes rested upon, for the first time, Dave's own. Strider blinked owlishly before turning his head slightly to look John in the eyes with his erubescent orbs. They sparkled with astonishment just like the snow they gazed at, crimson irises beautifully complementing the pale complexion of the face they belonged to.
John allowed the aviators to fall out of his hand and back into the snow as he put his hand on the back of Dave's slender neck and pulled him forward into a tender kiss. He got one more glance into the overwhelmingly beautiful, long-lashed crimson eyes that Dave fought so hard to hide before they slid shut as he returned the passionate connection of their lips.
The simple joy of snow had brought emotion and life to the stone slab of a poker face that Dave always maintained.