A/N: This is my first post-crash totally-new creation. This is the first attempt I've ever made to write anything involving John or Dave, and anything I've done to be a HammerTime fic. Let me know if I get off-character because I hate when writers take everyone so far out of their character!

~Homestuck is not mine!~

John fingered the little button on his grey PDA, debating anxiously on dialing Dave's number. He winced, feeling the burn in his ribs. The dial tone caught his breath in his throat. Ringing over and over, the little device made him sweat until the answering 'klik' came. 'Be cool, John.'

Dave scowled and stilled his favourite spinning discs to reach for the vibrating mobile resting on his turntable. He smoothed over his annoyance with some Strider cool and picked it up; the caller ID read 'John'.

"Yo. Strider, here," He drawled, "how's it goin'?" John smiled faintly as the hum of Texas and Dave laid-back life filtered through the little speaker to tease him. Faintly, it blotted out his own and John forgot about school and his gangly pale chicken legs.

"Hey, Dave," John leaned back on his good arm and said, "Same old same." Suddenly, as John made to recline onto his bed, a sharp sickle of pain slashed up his spine and he gasped. "School just…" John sat back and rubbed the ache in his side. "sucks. Y'know?"

"I feel you, man," Dave told John, reaching over to turn off the tables and giving them one final turn. "but are you okay?" He lifted his lanky frame out of the old desk chair, loving the irony that his joints creaked instead of the antique, and stretched. "That sounds harsh. What happened?"

"I fell on the way home today." John lied, forcing his eyes off his own battered reflection on his computer screen to believe it better. "Just on my butt. It's a little bit sore, that's all." Dave was silent for a moment and, as Dave's slow breathing came through, John touched his own head and tousled his dark hair gently so as not to aggravate the goose egg forming there. For a moment, John drowned himself in the Texan distractions –his Dad had never let John go over before- and tried to imagine Dave's room as he pretended his life was as perfect as Dave's. Cool, confident, ironic Dave.

"You sure?" John blinked, wincing silently as his swollen eye protested, and looked down. In his room, Dave asked the question slowly as he spread himself out on his bed like a big lazy cat. "are you okay?"

"Dave," John whined, rising and frowning at the stickiness of his throbbing knees. John glanced at them and sighed, picking the rough tattered jean away from the rawness and seeing blood. "I'm fine, I told you. How's life with Bro?" His lame question brought him time enough to make it to the only bathroom and shuck off his ruined jeans.

"He's cool. Y'know, still doing the puppet thing." Dave told him, sounding close to sleep. "We got in a wicked strife a few days ago though… tore up the place." Dave went into a deeper explanation of their ninja strife with prompting, leaving John to gawk at himself.

His legs were covered in shoe hits both old and new, swelling in other spaces where a bruise had yet to form, and bled at knees. His jeans were ripped at the knee from when he'd fallen while running and, reluctantly, John readied the rubbing alcohol.

"And then he hit me with the shower of puppets and absconded." Dave concluded, waiting too long for John's usual laugh. "John, I got buried in puppet dick. Insert laugh here, Eggderp." John nodded to himself, suddenly realized that Dave couldn't see him nodded, and grunted.

"Yeah, cool. Puppets."

"John, are you sure you're okay?" At the question, John gasped, spilling the rubbing alcohol, and cried out in pain the first word that came to mind: "DAVE!" He hissed and quickly put the rubbing alcohol on the counter, abandoning his PDA on the edge of the tub, and scrambled to rinse the burning solution away at the sink.

"JOHN!" The young black-haired boy jumped as his father came bursting in, smashing the doorknob into his bruised ribs, and drew another cry from his lips. The older Egbert caught sight of a son at the sink, pants-less, washing his hands, and blushed. "Are you master-"

"Dad!" John turned to face him, baring his swollen face by mistake, and shoved the man out of the bathroom. "SHUT UP! I AM NOT!"

"What happened to your-"

"DAD! GO!" "But you yelled 'DA-" "SHUT UP! I'M ON THE PHONE!" On the other end, Dave was staring at his ceiling in confusion, his blond eyebrows smooshing together at the top of his nose. What was John doing?


"Dave?" John answered the phone shakily, capping something in the background. "Sorry about my Dad. He's so-"

"What were you doing, John?" Dave listened as John's breath caught and waited, getting a bit impatient. He sat up, propping himself up on his elbows, and frowned as only John could make him do. "You're acting totally uncool." Dave's muttered comment was in no way malicious, but it cut into John's heart. He panicked, his heart bursting in his chest as he tried to strip his grubby shirt off, and he met his own sad blue eyes in the bathroom mirror.

His shoulder ached from being held awkwardly and when he finally peeled his shirt away, he could see the bruises causing him the pain. A large stomp had left the shoulder blade dark and mottled, making it a disgusting sight. John smiled as he closed his eyes.

"I'm fine," He lied, feeling his aches and shames accumulate across his battered little body. He kept lying as heat tinged his face red, heating his ears, and he kept rambling his lie as his vision blurred with tears. Dave cut in from the other end.

"I'm coming over."

"Y-You can't!" john objected, frantically fishing medical tape and rolls of bandages from his bathroom cupboard. "My Dad-" "Fuck your Dad." Dave's growl chilled John's blood. "I'll be there in ten minutes."

((And you'd better be ready! XD))

~Homestuck is not mine!~

A/N: I'm sorry. I read it aloud to myself and the last bit just came out. Dave! Get your mind out of the gutter! Any good so far? Or did that van make off with my writing ability? Let me know, people, and requests will be granted!

Keep it real, readers! I'm out!