Thanks for reading and keeping up everyone! I may or may not be able to update by next Monday, as I will be away for the weekend, but hopefully the chapter will be done before then and posted on schedule! Keep checking my blog for updates, thank you for all your support! It is greatly appreciated.

The sheets tangle around your feet as you roll over on the mattress, still hugging the pillow to your head with your arm beneath it. Halfway through the night you had kicked them off in your sleep because it was just too hot in this damn dorm room.

Drowsiness is wearing off, and you feel that need to get up, but you're just too lethargic to. Instead, trying to muffle the urge to get off your ass and move about, you stretch out wide and long, arms extending, and then snap back into a curled up position. You don't want to move or do anything at all.

Eventually, your restlessness eats at you to the point where it is simply unbearable, and you groan loudly, practically whining as you wiggle to the edge of the bed. You feel so lazy you wish you could just roll off onto the floor. Instead, you force yourself to sit up, furrowing your brows at having to make such an effort. When you finally are off the bed and standing up, you feel a little bit less restless and just a little more sleepy. Your morning routine of waking up sucks so bad.

"You are the most entertaining kid to watch wake up, Egbert."

You jump in surprise at the voice, a small jolt of adrenaline shooting through you, and you whip back around to the bed to face where the voice came from. Dave grins up at you, lounging lazily on the bed with his laptop resting on his knees. You huff.

"Jumpy in the morning, are we?" Glaring at him, you promptly flop onto the bed again, crawling over to the blonde and sitting up next to him, propping up some pillows behind you. You can't believe in all your rolling about trying to wake up that you didn't notice him, even on the queen sized mattress. You do tend to move a lot in your sleep.

"Can it, jackass," you grumble, glancing at his computer screen. Tumblr is on Chrome, all the pictures and things he's scrolling through just a bunch of music crap, weapons, and shitty comic fan arts. Gosh this kid was weird. You didn't even know how to use that stupid blogging site.

Once upon a time you had created one, but it was just really confusing, what with the urls, reblogging and all that following shenanigans. Why would you want to 'follow' someone on the internet? It seemed mad creepy. Even when Dave offered to help you understand it and 'trick out your blog with some sick shit,' you promptly turned him down. You wanted no part in this strange and confusing website.

After a minute or two, Dave closed his laptop and set it on the floor, leaning back into the bed next to you instead. You look at him, a bit confused as to why he stopped in mid-blogging. Dave never stopped in mid blogging. He cautiously wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer. You had no objections.

"You didn't have to get offline you know," you comment, reaching up to play with his hair. Dave shook his head.

"Nah man, this cute little dipshit right here is more entertaining," he teases, poking at your cheek, to which you grumble. You are not cute, dammit, you are a handsome, dashing young man.

For a little bit, the two of you just lie there, cuddling contently, quiet except for the occasional blissed sigh or little noise. It's like on Sims 3 or some shit when two sims cuddle on their bed by laying there holding hands over each other and mumbling creepy Simanese nothings into each other's ears. Except you like to think this is less weird and more cute.

"So what made you finally cut down that ridiculous bird's nest you used to possess on your head?" Dave asks, ruffling your hair with a grin.

You snort. "Karkat let Kanaya loose on me yesterday dude. It was awful." The blonde paused, looking at you, before cracking up uncontrollably.

"Oh my god, you poor little bastard!" He smiled right at you, sincerely, and you knew he eyes were on yours. Fuck, you just melted when he smiled like that. What a rare sight. "But it looks rather smashing, if I say so myself bro." You smile weakly and nod.

"What can I say? Miss Maryam is crazy, but she knows her stuff with hair!" Dave nodded in agreement. Pulling his arm away from you, much to your own discontent, he moves as if to get up, and you pout.

"Now. How does some class A badass pancakes sound?" The pout immediately vanishes, and your face lights up. You hop off the bed in excitement. Dave makes the best pancakes ever, and usually you have to beg for him to make them for you. He makes them from scratch and everything, none of that box crap.

The two of you move to the kitchen, and you slide onto a stool behind the island counter as Dave opens a couple cupboards. You watch him as he pulls out flour, sugar, the works. This time you're going to memorize the recipe from watching him so that you can attempt to bake massacre your own pancakes. Maybe if they're good enough, you could even serve some to Karkat and have a nice breakfast with him.

Dave expertly measured out his ingredients, laying them all out on the counter in front of you. You count, two cups of flour, three tablespoons of baking powder, a fourth a cup of milk.. Soon you realize it will be difficult for you to remember all of this in your head for any extended period of time.

"I was thinking apple cinnamon, that sound good kid?" he asks offhandedly, pulling two mixing bowls from the cupboard. You like your lips and nod, watching as he mixes the dry ingredients in a bowl. Putting together the wet ingredients, he then starts to mix in the dry.

"Well then hop to it bro. Help me out." Snickering a bit, you nod and slip off the stool, walking around the counter and meandering to the fridge. You pull out a couple apples and grab the tiny plastic cutting board Dave own, setting both on the counter. Finished with the batter, the blonde sets it aside and opens a drawer, grabbing a peeler and snagging the apples.

"Grab a knife, there's a few hanging on the wall." Sure enough, on the wall over the stove, there are a variety of knives. You grab a medium sized one, and when you're back at the cutting board, Dave tosses you a shoddily peeled apple.

With both of you working, soon enough the apples are all cut into thin slices and Dave has a cinnamon sugar mix all fired up. He starts heating a pan slides the bowl of cinnamon sugar over to you.

When you think he's not looking, in between your apple coating, you sneak a few of the slices for yourself, eating more than enough. Of course Dave noticed since the very first stolen apple piece, but he didn't scold you until your seventh one.

"Quite eating the damn apples, you little food whore," he scolds, punching you lightly in the arm. You grin sheepishly, and offer him the finished apple slices in apology. Sighing, he takes them, though you do catch a little smile playing on his lips.

Pouring batter in the pan, Dave expertly spread the mixture evenly by turning the pan in a circular motion. Then, as he's about to spread the apples, he hunches over the pan, obscuring the pancake from your view.

When he's done, he backs away, and displays the pan to you with a flourish of his hand. "Check it out John," he says, snickering. You give him a skeptical look, but then peer over at the pancake.

"Oh my fucking god Dave." There, on the pancake, six of so apple slices are perfectly arranged in the shape of a penis. Just like the childish badly drawn penises that immature high schoolers draw on locker room walls and girl's binders to piss them off.

Both of you simultaneously burst into laughter, snickering and chortling uncontrollably.

"That's your pancake John!"

"Sure, cause I just love dick, don't I?"

"That's right, asshole."


Between your banter and the laughing, both of you are finding it a bit difficult to breath from all the commotion. Dave finally musters up enough maturity to face the penis pancake without having a fit of giggles, and flips it over, the cooked side perfectly golden brown.

"You are so immature."

"You are so gay for me."

You huff, shoving him a little, your cheeks turning red. You know it's true, but it's going to take quite a bit of getting used to, having it stated so bluntly. You're incredibly happy that Dave isn't angry with you, and that he's comfortable with you like this.

Just being with him in such a manner, hanging out, having little intimate moments, like cuddling in bed, or when you two watched movies together on the couch last night; it's what you've been daydreaming about over the past few weeks, whether you would admit it or not.

But it's still proving difficult for you to grow accustomed to. You can't help but feel you may not be nearly as comfortable with all of this outside of is dorm, even. What even are you two at this point? Are you boyfriends? Friends who kiss and cuddle? You don't know, and you don't know what you want to be with him. The idea of having a boyfriend is so awfully foreign. It feels like you're just not ready for any publicity yet. You're scared.

Dave must have noticed your uncomfortability, because he softened a little, moving closer. "Sorry," he apologized, voice quiet. "That wasn't okay, I'm sorry." You look at him, shaking your head and smiling a little.

"Nah.. It's just gonna take some getting used to, y'know?" He nods, watching you carefully. You gulp. "Hearing well.. the truth." You chuckle nervously, rubbing the back of your neck. Dave is quiet for a moment, but then pulls you into a hug. You're a bit surprised by his forwardness with such affection, but you gratefully hug him back.

"I'll try not to lay it on you so much, alright?" You nod, and mutter thanks, pressing your face into his neck and breathing his scent in. He smells good, like cinnamon and his cologne. You recognize the scent, from where, you're not quite sure though.

"Old Spice bro," Dave comments, as if he could sense you catching a whiff of him. Sniff sniff. Oh yup. Old Spice. Suddenly Dave's smell seems a little creepy, as you remember where your memory of that scent comes from. You inhale again just to make sure that Dave doesn't use barbasol.

"Ok, you really need to step off, hound boy," he says teasingly, pulling you back a little. You chuckle sheepishly.

"It's a good thing you don't use barbasol or anything, Strider," you comment as he flips the first pancake out of the pan and onto a plate.

"Hm? Why man?" He pours out another ladle of batter into the hot pan.

"My dad used Old Spice. It would make this sufficiently creepy if you smelled like his aftershave too," you explain, smirking a little. Dave cracks up a little, smiling.

"Wouldn't want you thinking of your old man while we get our mack on, eh?"

"Oh gosh no!"

"John, come here and give daddy a kiss." Dave grinned devilishly and leaned in as if to kiss you.

"Dave you fucking stop that right now," you say, backing up a little, squeamishly.

"Don't you love your daddy, John? Pucker up, son."

"Quit it Dave!" you squeal right before he plants a kiss on your lips, and all you can smell is his Old Spice.

Kissing back though blushing furiously when he pulls away, you punch him in the arm as he laughs.

"One day I'm going to put on aftershave before you come over just to creep you out."

"I swear to fucking god Dave, I will kill you," you growl, glowering at him, much to his amusement. Crossing your arms in defiance and leaning against the counter, you watch Dave as he snorts and waves you off, going to back to his pancakes.

After what seems like much too long a wait, Dave presents you with what has to be the most beautiful plate of pancakes you have ever seen in your whole damn life. Stacked three cakes high, a puddle of syrup on the side and steaming with whipped cream on the top- you nearly are drooling at the sight.

Snatching the plate from him and grabbing a fork hastily from the silverware drawer, you rush to the couch and plop down. Carefully and delicately, trying not to ruin the perfect plate, you set it down on the coffee table while you position yourself in a suitable manner. Finally you decide on indian style sitting, so that you can lean back into the couch for comfort, and oh so carefully you place your plate balanced on your legs.

Just when you're about to cut into your first bite, Dave carelessly throws himself onto the couch, nearly making you tip over with your stack of pancakes from how hard he bounced on the springs.

"Dave!" you exclaimed irritably, scowling at him as he slouches back on the couch, cutting a humongous bite and shoving it in his mouth.

"..Damn you sure can fit a lot in your mouth," you commented, amazing by the triple stack super bite that Strider had rammed into his pie hole. Calmly and coolly, Dave finished his bite, turning to you and grinning suggestively.

"You bet I can, Egbert," he cooed, almost in a seductive seeming manner, and you turn red. What an asshole. Shaking your head in disappointment you turn to your pancakes, finally taking a bite. They are fucking delicious, as expected.

Dave is finished with his whole giant stack in about four minutes flat, no surprise, but by then you're barely halfway through yours! You wonder how the guy can possibly eat so much and remain so impossibly lanky.

When you've got about a quarter of your stack left, you feel so full you couldn't take another bite if you wanted to. Which you want to desperately. Instead, you restrain yourself, sliding back into the couch and groaning, completely stuffed.

"Gonna eat that, wimp?" Dave asked, egging at you a little.

You snort as if he had just told you a preposterous joke. "Have at it, douchebag," you grumble, shoving him the plate.

With a little grin of victory he graciously takes the plate, and then not so graciously shoves a boatload of pancake into his mouth. You roll your eyes.

You sit for a moment there on the couch, just resting a bit, letting your food settle in your stomach, and having a moment of quiet. Well, quiet for all except Dave's loud chomping of the remainder of your pancakes. You watch him, amused and intrigued by how haphazardly and quickly he eats, as if this meal might be the last one he gets.

When he finishes finally, he lets out a content sigh, and before he can even move to gather the plates, you do it for him, picking them all up and going into the kitchen.

"I wash, you rinse," you say firmly when he gives you a disgruntled look. It's kinda obvious he just wants to do everything for his guest.

"Fine, fine, Egbert. Just hop on over to my room when s'all squeaky clean, I'll give you some shit to wear." He disappears from the living room before you can even get in a word, so
you shrug and go back to your dishes, turning the water on.

Why would you need to borrow clothes? It's not like either of you really had to go anywhere, you thought. You puzzled over this while scrubbing at your plate before it hits you.

"Classes!" you squeak, dropping the dish in the sink. Immediately you check your watch, eyes widening in panic.

"Dave! Dave!" you call out desperately, rushing to his room and bursting through the door. The blonde jumps at your sudden entrance, standing in his room in nothing but his boxers, which are a little big and sliding down his hips. You turn red and look away quickly.

"Woah man, that eager to see the Strider goods? Can a bro get some privacy around here?" Dave chuckles, grabbing a pair of jeans and shimmying in them.

You shuffle awkwardly outside his door, looking to the floor. "We're gonna be late to classes, Dave!"

He chortles a little. "Yeah, so?" Crossing your arms, you glare at him.

"Unlike you, I have a reputation to keep with my teachers." Dave's only response is to grab you by the arm and tug you into his room, closing the door behind you. He then moves to his dresser, rummaging through it.

"Alright, let's get you some sick threads." In a moment there are multiple articles of clothing being thrown at you, which you flail to catch. Blue jeans, a white tee, zip up red hoodie, and boxers?

"Woah, hold on, what the hell are the boxers for?" you ask, appalled at the white boxers which appear to be garbed in music notes.

"To cover your junk? The ones you're wearing are probably dirty bro, maintain some hygiene." You shoot him a questioning look, not quite trusting his boxers.

He sighs a little and pulls on a t shirt over his long sleeve. "Come on, they're clean. Freshly washed bro. It's not like I was jerkin with them or anything, kid."

"Fine. But turn around while I'm changing," you say, frowning a bit. Dave nods in agreement and turns around, facing his dresser. Only then do you sigh a little and slip off your own boxers, quickly pulling on his. They were surprisingly comfy, soft cotton. You pull off your shirt from yesterday.

"Kay, you can look now," you say, quickly changing into the tee he gave you before he whips around. There's a small disappointed pout on his lips that he didn't catch you shirtless in time, but it quickly fades to his trademark poker face.

You pull on the hoodie, zipping it up most of the way. Then, grabbing the jeans, you begin to pull them on, only to find, much to your dismay, that they are skinny jeans. Grunting in irritation, you don't bother to ask for another pair, and instead, in determination, set about wiggling into them.

Finally you get them all the way on and zip up the fly, trying to get used to them. God these things strain your crotch like a bitch.

"Your ass looks great in those, Egbert," you hear Dave comment from behind you, and immediately you spin around, hiding your ass, brow furrowed and cheeks hot.

"Shut up, Dave," you growl, shoving him a little. He laughs and pecks you on the cheek, walking out of his room. You follow, embarrassed, and Dave grabs his keys from the counter, shoving a couple pens in his pocket. He offers you on and you snag it from his hand, only making him chuckle.

The two of you make your way to the elevator, riding down. This time the elevator ride is slightly less awkward than the one from yesterday. Slightly.

When you get to the car, you're about to open the door and climb in when Dave immediately rushes around the vehicle to reach your door before you, opening it up and holding out a hander to usher you in like some sort of chauffer. You give him a sheepish smile and slide into the car, and he shuts the door behind you.

Once he's buckled in himself, you grin a little at him. "Trying to be a gentleman Strider?" you ask teasingly, nudging him as he starts the car. He shrugs, smiling a little himself.

"Just for my little John, man," he replies casually, pulling out of the parking lot. You nod a bit, leaning back, quiet.

His little John. What did he mean by that? What were they? All these questions you had been ignoring all morning, just wanting to enjoy your time with Dave. But it was really kind of bugging you. You felt like you might mess something up though if you asked.

However, Dave decided it was a lovely moment to just pop an opportunity for the topic in, not giving you a choice. "I'm sorry, was that too much?"

His voice was quiet, worried. As if he really didn't want to fuck anything up with you. You shook your head, smiling weakly.

"No, no, it wasn't, don't worry," you say quickly, as if trying to make up for the awkward silence you caused with your thoughts. You wonder what he had been thinking. Based on his words, he was probably having something of a mini freak out. Suddenly guilt washes over you. You really have to be more considerate of these things, you're far too oblivious.

He doesn't say anymore, most likely assuming you want peace and quiet. You don't want peace and quiet at all.

"Dave.. what are we?" You tense up as soon as the words are out of your mouth, mind racing as you wait for his response. His response doesn't come. You gulp a little, praying that wasn't an unacceptable question.

"Or uh, rather.. what do you want us to be?" You hear a soft, quiet sigh coming from the driving blonde, who still hadn't moved his eyes from the road for a moment.

"You want an honest answer, kid?" You nod quickly, watching him. He sucked in a breath. "Honestly., boyfriends would be nice, John." Your heart is in your throat. Your emotions are caught in between bounds of joy and a deep sinking feeling in your chest.

It's wonderful, amazing to you that he wants to be your boyfriend, and you want to be his, you've decided. You truly do. You've come to terms with this over the past few weeks.

But you still can't quite come to terms with the idea of being boyfriends, well.. outside of the dorm room.

The idea of it quite frankly terrifies you.

"Too much, huh? I know you're not ready, I guess."

"No I am." You say this firmly, but the slight shakiness of your voice is unmistakable. Dave runs his fingers through his hair tensely.

"Do you mean that, or are you pitying me?" The shift to a demanding tone in Dave's voice makes you flinch, and it hits you how much you really affect Dave. How much what everything you do, every choice you make, determines a huge part of his state.

"I.. I want to be your boyfriend, Dave," you murmur under your breath, hands rubbing in your lap.

You feel like your fingers can't stop shaking, tensing up, and you desperately wish to give them something to do. For now, tangling them in each other with have to suffice to ease the nerves. Dave pulls into a parking spot in the history wing of the university.

He parks and shuts the car off, turning to face you. You shy a little, nervous of what he's going to say or do.

"Ease up, dude," he murmurs softly, and he reaches out to touch your face. Pulling your head in close, he kisses you deeply, and you tip your head for better access, kissing him back. Your lips fit together like a lock and key, you note.

When he pulls away, he gives you one last little peck and then ruffles your hair.

"Better get to class, boyfriend," he says cheerily, smiling big at you. You smile back, wide and toothy, and get out of the car reluctantly, not wanting to leave. As he pulls out you wave, and he blows you a totally ironic air kiss, throwing it out with his hand outstretched like some kind of shoujo anime bishie.

When the car is out of sight, only then to you turn around and make for the building, sighing a little. You miss him too much already. As for the boyfriend thing- well, it's not like either of you planned to broadcast it to the world.

You hoped.

When you got inside, you went flying down the halls to be able to get to your classroom. You were already a good thirty minutes late, and you really did not want to be any later if avoidable. Unfortunately, your particular global class was located on the third floor.

After two flights of stairs, hallway after hallway of running, and nearly knocking over other students, you finally burst into your classroom, panting like you had just run a marathon. The entire class room froze at your loud entrance, and the professor was glaring daggers at you.

"I-I'm sorry I'm late!" you exclaim, fumbling for words. "I- uh, slept in!" The professor gives you a skeptical look.

"It's nearly one in the afternoon." You shift nervously, flustered. You hate having professors angry with you.

"Uh, long night." With an irritated sigh, he waves you off with one of his hands.

"Take a seat, Mr. Egbert. I normally expect better of you." You flinch, the comment striking you right in the chest. God, facing angry professors is the most stressful thing. Nodding quickly, you hurry up the aisle and search for your usual seat.

Finally you find it, next to a rather angry looking Karkat, and you hurry over, gulping a bit before sitting down. Once you're in your seat, the professor resumes his lecture, and as usual, a few minutes in, small conversations start among students, knowing the old cook wouldn't notice the talking in the middle of a rant.

You're stiff in your seat, knowing fully well that neither you nor Karkat are actually listening to the lecture, and that your roommate probably had a few stern words for you. Finally, he administers them.

"Where the fuck were you last night?" His voice is harsh, but quiet so that his talking will go undetected. He's scowling down at his desk.

"I told you I was going to a friends," you reply, which is the full truth, you had him you'd be going out.

"You said you would be back." You grit your teeth, knowing he won't be happy with you for a while.

"I decided to sleep over. I'm sorry for not texting you."

"I was really worried, asshole."

For a lengthy amount of time, the smaller male says nothing more, just fuming in his seat. You shift a bit, not making eye contact with him, though you can feel him flick his gaze to you every moment or so.

Finally he says something. "Are those Dave's clothes?" You tense up. How the hell did he recognize them? You begin to panic in your mind, how are you going to explain to him why you're wearing Dave's clothes?

"Uh, yeah," you said, laughing nervously to try and make the situation less conspicuous. If anything it makes it more so. Karkat narrows his eyes.


You gulp. "Uh, well, I didn't have a change of clothes.. and besides, he insisted I not wear clothes I'd already worn all day! Mhm."

That oughta convince him. In your mind, making it look like you didn't want to wear them would help it be believable. The reality was that you were actually quite enjoying wearing the Strider's threads. His scent was intoxicating, Old Spice and all, and it was all over you. You loved it, and kinda hoped that you were allowed to keep them for a while before Dave asked for them back.

"Did Dave insist you wear jeans that pop your ass out for him too?"

You don't think your face had ever been redder. You don't respond, remaining tight lipped, and you hear Karkat snort, obviously disgruntled, the noise more of an affirmation of what he assumed. You really hoped he couldn't see what was going on. You had planned to talk to him yourself about. Looked like you had to do it soon instead of putting it off any more.

The awkward silence stemming from your roommate's comment continued throughout most of the two hour class. It was only towards the end that you decided to break the silence, unable to take it anymore. You hated the tense, awful air.

"I was thinking we could pick up some Chinese food for dinner, does that sound alright with you?" Karkat grunted a bit, but nodded.

"We are not getting that fucking awful General Sow shit or whatever the fuck it's called again." You smile a little, some of the awkward air between you lifted.

"Aw, come on! It wasn't that bad!" you argue, whining a little.

"Do you lack any taste buds, you idiot?"

"Fine, fine, no General Tso's chicken," you agree, chuckling a bit. "Grumpy little brat," you mutter under your breath, shooting a glance at him.

"Tasteless, ugly prick."

"You take that back! I am most certainly not ugly, I'm adorable as hell."

"You are about as adorable as a drowned rat."

You huff and are about to object, but then the professor call out to the class that they are all free to go and Karkat gets up. You follow suit, and the two of you walk side by side out of the room, and you think that your roommate is past the whole incident, which would be a wonderful miracle.

However you are probably not correct in your assumption.

Once out of the building, both of you come to the conclusion that taking the bus back to your dorms is the best choice opposed to walking the whole five miles. The walk to the bus itself isn't that bad, but the both of you have to rush to get to the bus stop in time.

Not a moment after you pick out a seat on the public bus and settle in than do you hear, and now feel, your phone buzzing indicating a message. In these god damn jeans you can feel the vibration like it's against your bare skin. It's a bit of an unnerving feeling.

You pull out your phone and open the message, already knowing who it's from. Karkat glances over to your phone, but you think nothing of it. What does it matter if he knows who you're texting?

hey egbert. how was your boring ass class? 3

You smile a little, thrilled at the heart. He sent you a heart, holy shit. For whatever reason, this sent butterflies straight to your stomach.

totally laaaaame :( i'd rather be hanging with my sweet bro again 8I 3

You think the response is rather appropriate, just sweet enough. You're not sure if dating a guy and texting him is the same as texting a girl you're seeing. Your phone buzzes not even a minute after you sent your message.

hey man, no jackin my emotion 8I

You chuckle a little and quickly type out a response. You end up texting Dave the entire ride home.