Hey guys. I'm still sick, but since I stayed home from a family thing (because I'm coming down with a cold), I decided to write y'all a fluffy Dave/John fic instead of something depressing and angsty. Yay :D
On other news, y'all should go follow me on tumblr OuO There's a link on my bio page, and I'm always open for questions and requests and stuff! I really like talking to my readers, even if I can come off as a bitch sometimes! ^^;
Anyway, here's a sweet fic inspired by "I Love You" by Avril Lavigne!
Disclaimer: Andrew Hussie owns the characters and Avril Lavigne owns the song!
Dave was his best friend- hands down. There was no question, no doubt or reason to ever think otherwise, even if Dave was a cool kid with girls hanging over him all the time, and he was just a dorky kid obsessed with Nic Cage and ghosts, they were best friends. No one else got Dave like he did- not even Rose- and no one really understood him like the cool kid did, because they had been together since they were so little they could barely remember their first meeting, they've had each other's backs for so long it was only second nature for the other to jump in if something happened, and they even had an entire nonverbal language going on just by looks. It was never a problem, never something he thought would backfire, and never something he wasn't proud of. If anyone had ever asked who his best friend was, he would smile at them with his buckteeth showing and say with every fiber of pride in his body "Dave Strider."
John Egbert wasn't sure when it started to become more than just a platonic friendship, when there was a line in the sand one of them crossed by just a centimeter and threw off the balance, but he supposed it had to have been him and sometime during middle school. He was pushed around and teased a lot because while all the other guys (Dave included) started getting taller, he hadn't grown an inch over five-three, and still had a voice to match a fifth grader, and he thought Dave would ditch him because of how uncool he had become, but Dave stepped in every time and told the other guys to "fuck off" and never left John's side. There was something there, maybe, that was just beginning to bloom, but he had ignored it and shook it off as brotherly love. Platonic. Platonic. That's what they were.
Platonic best friends.
He perked up and looked at Dave, blinking in a confused trance before he chuckled and scratched the back of his head, leaning away from the counter. "Sorry, I spaced out a bit… What's up?"
"Your ramen," Dave said, pointing over his shoulder at the boiling pot. "You were spacing for a good five minutes. You might want to check your noodles before they turn to shit."
John laughed nervously, turning and picking up the pasta spoon and stirring his ramen slowly, trying to ignore that familiar, frustrating feeling he had in his chest. He leaned forward, looking at the noodles in the pot, then fished one out.
"What the fuck are you doing, Egderp?" his cool kid best friend asked, voice hinting toward disbelief.
He paused, looking at Dave with a small smile. "Trying one…?"
In a second, Dave had taken the spoon out of his hand, leaning over the stove and pushing the noodles around. The light above cast over his light blonde hair and pale skin, making him look radiant and a bit more bright than usual. John couldn't stop staring, his eyes transfixed on Dave's profile, memorizing in because he knew he'd never be able to see something like this again. Dave looked… almost… beautiful. And somewhere, in that split second of seeing his best friend so radiant, it hit him, finally at sixteen after so many years shrugged it off as brotherly love; he had fallen in love with his best friend, Dave Strider.
You're so beautiful, but that's not why I love you.
Dave straightened up, putting the spoon down on the counter and looking over to John. "Your ramen is- John why are you gaping at me like a dumbass?"
"O-Oh… uh… Oh, is the ramen ready? Thank you, Dave," John recovered, chuckling and rubbing his arm awkwardly, taking the pot by the handle and carrying it over to the sink to pour out the extra water. He began to pour it out, the steam rising and fogging up his glasses. "Shit. Dave, can you take my glasses off please?"
He ignored the tingles as Dave's hands brushed up against his face and pulled the framed lens off, and he turned the pot back up right and carried it over to the stove again, setting it down. "Thank you," he turned to Dave smiling brightly but the smile fading when he caught that serious look on Dave's face. "Uh, Dave?"
Dave ignored him, taking a small step forward to put John's glasses back on his face, hands brushing against his skin, leaving shivers and shocks throughout his body, and he shuddered himself. Dave was closer than he had been in years, fingers resting on the sides of John's glasses and hands pressed against his cheeks, and he opened his mouth a little. "Hey."
John chuckled slightly, face red and looking up into Dave's shades. "H-hey." He said, nervously, knowing the gears in Dave's head were turning, processing, deducting the blush, the stutter, the reason he was staring. He could see the light bulb go off in Dave's head as John tentatively reached up and put his hands on Dave's glasses, blinking like a fascinated child on Christmas. "Can I… take them off?"
He knew Dave hated his sunglasses being off- the only thing he had ever been self-conscious about since he met him was his eyes, which John had only seen a few times. He didn't expect a yes, he expected Dave to rant and make analogies about how that shit 'wasn't cool', then the entire mood that was swimming in the kitchen would disappear.
He didn't expect that.
And I'm not sure you know…
John tentatively pulled them off, slowly moving his friend's wire shades off his face, before he could see Dave's closed eyes, and smiled gently, putting the sunglasses on the counter. Dave's hands were still on his face, pressed a bit closer as John spoke, "You can open your eyes." Slowly, but surely, Dave's eyelids were apart, his eyes open and red irises revealed for the shorter, black-haired teen. He gave him a small smile. "There."
Dave pressed his forehead against John's, breath ghosting over his lips. "Fuck, bro," he said, softly, eyes never leaving his. "Why the hell am I turning into a sap?"
That the reason I love you…
His heart thudding in his chest, and he gapped, lips falling open a little as Dave pressed his mouth against the corner of John's. "Wh-"
"You, John Egderp, have me, Dave Strider turning into a hopeless romantic and cowering at your derpy feet." He said, the vibrations from his chest traveling to his mouth, tickling John's skin. "What would Rose say about this? Fuck, never mind, let's not think about that."
"Dave are you…?"
His lips hovered over his own, only centimeters apart, so close John could almost feel them, but could feel the electricity between him and Dave.
He leaned forward just the slightest and caught John in a kiss, lips pressed together and hands still resting on his cheeks. John put his hands in Dave's jacket, tightening his fists and slipping his eyes closed, feeling the warmth in his cheeks and from Dave's, how their bodies and lips meshed perfectly together, remembering and analyzing the moment so he'd never forget.
They parted and just looked into each other's eyes for a moment before John cracked a wide grin, cheeks still flushed red and even Dave managed a small smile.
If anyone asked now, he'd say Dave was his best friend and would always have his back, always would be himself, but that's why he had always been in love with him.