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Nerds In A Superstore

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It’s one in the morning and you can’t fucking sleep.

Instead of the Sandman gracing you with some of his magic dust and cruising off into the night with a sweet guitar solo to go get his sand-ladies, he’s decided to take a fucking vacation or something, because you can’t get a goddamn wink. This happens at least once a week, tonight is just possibly worse than normal. They’re throwing tornado warnings at everyone so you know that shit’s gonna go down any second. The wind is howling incessantly outside of your window, and you can hear the rain pound against your roof crystal clear. Usually this wouldn’t be a huge issue for you, but when you can’t sleep even the tiniest of noises keep you awake. Besides, the sound of trees cracking outside isn’t exactly a goddamn lullaby.

The only thing you can find yourself being thankful for is that you don’t have to slave tomorrow for the man; in other words, you don’t have to fucking work. Luckily, your boss is your older brother so you can pretty much get a day off whenever you decide that you don’t want to do shit. You give a particularly hard flop into your pillow and groan. Stupid fucking pillow.

The light above you flickers and you turn your head to see your Bro standing over you. You manage to keep a straight face even though the illusive bastard nearly fucking scared the literal shit out of you.

“Quit your goddamn moaning and go buy me pop,” he says, shoving a twenty and his car keys at your face. You quirk an eyebrow at him. The fuck does he want you to get pop at 1 in the morning? Let alone make you go out in this fucking hell storm. Reading your mind, he sighs and waves the stuff in your face again. “Listen, the walls are thin as shit and you’re not gonna sleep. If I have to hear you sigh like a goddamn disappointed porn star one more time I’m gonna come in here and put you to sleep myself. Now get out for an hour so at least one of us can get some shut eye.”

You can’t really disagree so you grab the stuff and shove it into the pocket of your sweatpants, throwing on a thin jacket and some shades before leaving the apartment.

Luckily, the trip is short enough; you somehow manage to only live about a 15 minute drive from the supercenter, and, it being near the university, that’s lucky. When you pull into the Walmart parking lot, it’s actually busy, especially considering it’s barely 1:30 AM and rain’s falling out of the sky like that’s its damn job. You even have to park a couple of rows back, which is basically like parking at the goddamn end of the world as far as you’re concerned.

At least the Spring weather is getting warm and you don’t have to wear a winter coat anymore. Being from Texas, you fucking hate the icy death grip of winter, and quite frankly would prefer to stay inside all day with your comics and records than in the arctic tundra that is Washington during January. Okay so its not actually that cold but you're just not used to anything less than ball-dripping heat. Thankfully, winter was months ago, and May is just around the corner.

A couple people in their pajamas walk by you, but, looking down at your own sweats, you can’t really comment much. One of the guys walking by catches your eye and smiles politely, then laughs at something one of his friends said. You can’t help but think that he has one of the prettiest goddamn smiles you’ve ever seen, a grin that stretches across his face. You’re sort of glad that you have your shades because that kid’s face was sort of like the fucking sun. He must be one of the college kids. The Walmart is basically beside the university campus, so you’re not really shocked.

Sadly, you consider yourself to be far to rad to ever join the suckers paying 25,000 a year for tuition, thinking that you’d rather work at the shitty music store you do now then sell your internal organs like half the stupid shits that go there too. You sort of wish you were overexaggerating. Tightening your grip on your wallet, you walk through the store to the soda isle, your tiny basket in tow. There is a group of college kids standing in front of exactly where you needed to be, obviously getting ready for some sort of party.

“Bro, do you think that we could mix all these chips into one massive chip-palooza and then have a dip volcano like Chuck’s party last semester?” one of them asks, a tall jock guy who’s obviously baked like a goddamn cake looking at all the sweets. Awkwardly, he catches you looking and turns towards you, scoffing to the rest of his crew.

“The fuck you looking at, faggot?” he growls, his friends all gathering behind him. You don’t really feel like starting at fight in the middle of a Walmart in sweats. That’s just not you. You shrug, cool as a fucking cucumber. So fucking cool. People try to make a goddamn salad out of you and then they are like oh shit man we can’t eat this cucumber what if we get brain freeze, but you don’t give a shit. You’re still cool.  

“Nothing, couldn’t help but notice that you fucking amateurs forgot about your mix, though; if you’re gonna throw a party, you need the juice, bro,” you shoot back, chucking the guy the pop your holding. He catches it and a smile grows on his face.

“Hey man, you’re fucking alright. You wanna come to a party later? It just started an hour ago, bro, we’re going all night,” he asks, slapping his free hand into yours.

Before you can answer, there’s an address in your hand and a cell number. He winks at you and walks away with his friends, all of whom have started to pretend the cart is a pirate ship. Did you just get hit on? By a dude-bro that called you a faggot? Whatever. You sigh and shove the piece of paper into your pocket, wondering who the fuck just carries that shit around. You come to the conclusion that you really couldn’t care less. You grab another couple of bottles of Orange Crush before deciding that you can use the left over money for a bottle of AJ and a pack of mint gum.

When you walk up to the lineup there’s only one cashier, and it’s at least 15 people long. You groan and switch the weight of the basket to your other hand. You’re gonna be here a while. You’re last in line and the kid in front of you looks to be about your age. You can’t tell much of what he looks like, but he has dark black hair that sticks up everywhere, Harry Potter-style, and his Ghostbusters jams finish the look. 

You quickly recognize him as the guy who smiled at you earlier and you subconsciously adjust the shades on your face. You would take them off so you didn’t look like the guy who just got out of the gym wearing a tank that said swag before taking a series of selfies in the mirror with your shirt half up, but sadly, you actually need them. You have a condition where harsh lights essentially blind you. Though they’re good for checking out the choice ass the guy was packing in front of you without being noticed. Which is truly choice, by the way. You could have a goddamn picnic off of that thing.

You think that Bro would be proud of you, checking out the college kids at Walmart at two in the morning. You’ll have to relay this to him when you get up, maybe even share a few fist bumps over it.

Thunder rumbles into the store from outside and the boy fiddles around with his shirt in front of you, getting impatient. You should probably talk to him; if you remember correctly from the 0.2 second glimpse you got of him in the parking lot, he’s actually sort of adorable. Maybe you should drop your pack of gum or something? No, that would be fucking stupid, this isn’t some sort of romantic comedy where you both go to pick up the gum at the same time and touch hands, awkwardly laughing and then eventually run after him when he leaves the store, which is now somehow playing “Closing Time,” and you kiss him and everyone cheers and you drive off together into the sunrise. That would be stupid and dumb. You definitely won’t do that.

You hear something fall to the floor and look as he goes to pick up the package of gum he dropped. You get there faster, picking up the package and handing it to him.

“Drop something?” you ask, sounding super fucking suave and everything. He grins that same smile from before and you find your frozen fucking ice brick of a heart melting a little.

“Yeah, thanks!” he says, taking the package from you. It’s one of those fancy kinds that’s supposed to taste like apple pie.

“That shit any good?” you ask him, pointing at the gum. “My sister said it tastes like grandma was preparing for the county bake sale in your mouth, and she’s going for fucking gold.” The guy gives you a weird look but laughs anyway; you immediately feel stupid. You accidentally whip out really awful similes when you get nervous. You blame your genetics.

“Nah, it’s not for me. I won’t touch this shit. My Dad’s really into it, but he can’t get it where he is, so I figured I’d pick some up while I’m here for him and send him a package or something.”

You nod and suddenly the mood is awkward; you’ve run out of things to say and you wait for him to turn back around, but instead he smiles and keeps talking.

“Are you going to that huge party tonight beside campus?” he asks. “I hear that there might be a pool full of jello!”

You were right about the college kid thing. You actually might consider going to the party if you have a chance of hooking up with this guy. You shrug and pull of the piece of paper from your pocket and hand it to him. “If it’s here, then I might be. Just got invited,” you say as he inspects the paper before handing it back to you.

“Yeah! That’s the one, all the football guys are throwing it after the big win earlier! I don’t really play any sports or anything, but I guess everyone is invited,” he explains as you both move up a little, the line finally inching forward. “What major are you in?” he asks you, just making friendly conversation.

“Uh, I actually don’t bother with that place. I can’t afford to go and even if I wanted to, that school shit isn’t for me,” you say, realizing you sound like a giant bag of douche. You thought about going to school for photography, but you would never get a fucking job and it would pretty much be a giant waste of money.

“Oh,” he says quietly, a small blush rising to his cheeks, obviously feeling weird about pointing out that you don’t go to school.

“Nah man, don’t worry about it, I don’t give a fuck. What are you in for?”

“I’m a biology major! I kinda wanted to do something with film when I was younger, but my Dad thinks that this is the best option for a career so I guess it’s okay. I have an exam in two days, so I shouldn’t even be going to this thing,” he sighs. You nod and you both get sort of quiet again. After a moment of silence he looks up at you again with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Do you like pranks?”

“I dabble,” you say, watching him as he searches through his backpack for something. He grabs a piece of paper and grins, like he expects you to get it right away. He motions towards the large middle-aged man standing in front of him and pretends to rip the paper. Suddenly you get it. If it wasn’t the same guy whom you watched shove an elderly woman out of the way earlier, you might feel a little bad.

You smirk and reach for a chocolate bar near the man, purposely dropping it with a small thud. He looks around, seeing if anyone’s noticed the bar he thinks he dropped and both you and the other boy look away, pretending you didn’t see a thing. Out of the corner of your eye, you both watch as he goes to pick it up; the boy rips the paper loudly behind his back.

The pure look of terror on the man’s face makes you like this kid even more. The guy shoots up like a rabid dog bit him on the ass and glances around frantically.

“You might want to get those fixed,” you advise, pointing at his pants. The boy gives a low whistle and nods in agreement as the man covers his ass with his coat, blushing and mumbling a series of curses. You both have to turn back so he doesn’t see you snickering. The other kid punches your arm playfully and you flush, rubbing the bruising skin.

“That was awesome!” he laughs, looking at you with bright eyes. “I mean, I’ve done a lot better but for a small one my gambit went up enough.”

You fail not commenting on how much the “light” punch actually hurt. “Woah, bro, be careful with those hammer arms, I need these,” you whine, allowing the boy to see a small smile. He grins and looks embarrassed for a second before flexing as hard as he can.

“I gotta keep these guys sharp! You never know when you have to kick the crap out of a bunch of hooligans,” he laughs. You scoff and shake your head.

“You seem like the kinda guy to get in a lot of street fights, remind me not to fuck with you. I’ll have to get a crew,” you say sarcastically, giving you a chance to “size him up,” which really is just checking him out. He’s fairly lean aside from those hammer arms of his. He really doesn’t seem to be all that fit otherwise, just sturdy, not like you with your scrawny figure and boney hips. Yeah, you’re fairly muscular with all the strifing you and your Bro do, but you still end up looking like you’ll blow away if the wind is too strong. “Speaking of which, aren’t you gonna go to this shindig with a bunch of your buddies? Shouldn’t they be suffering in the line with you?” you ask him. He shrugs.

“They just gave me money and headed off,” he explains. “I don’t really mind, I told them I could stay in line as long as I got to keep the change. I’ll just take a bus back. No car.” You briefly consider offering him a ride. It might be weird, but it wouldn’t be so bad, plus maybe you could see if he’s into dick if you spend more time with him. The way he’s looking at you, you bet he is.

“Shit bro, that’s a balls ass deal you got there,” you say, about to offer him a ride when another cash finally opens up. The boy nudges you and you both run to the cash, managing to beat out another girl looking to buy some OJ this late. You hear a deep sigh of annoyance and look up, only to see your friend from high school glaring at the both of you. 

“What the ever-loving fuck are you doing at this shit-hole at a time like this, Strider?” Karkat asks you, looking as cheerful as ever in his stupid fucking Walmart vest. You’ve known Karkat pretty much all your life, and despite the fact that he’s about as cheerful as a fucking wasp’s nest, he’s still probably one of your best (and only) friends.

“Oh you know, the usual. Can’t catch the z’s like it’s a life or death game of hide and go seek and I’m fucking it and they’re being assholes, cheating and going inside the goddamn house, so Bro sent me here to pick up some pop so at least one of us can board the snooze train,” you answer him, slamming down your shit on the counter. “Might head to a party after, you wanna come?”

Karkat rolls his eyes and starts checking out your things. “Does it look like I want to go to some stupid fucking frat party after I finish my 8 hour shift at 2:30 in the morning during a tornado warning?” he asks, bagging your things aggressively and giving you his usual death glare.


“Fuck you. Where is it?” he asks, you quickly hand him the piece of paper and he writes it down, telling you he’s gonna get off his shift in 10 if you’ll wait for him. “Who’s your friend?” he asks, shoving a thumb in the other boy’s direction.

“Oh, he’s not, I just started talking to him in the other line. He’s coming too though,” you say quickly, trying to discreetly show Karkat that you are basically on the prowl and this kid is on to the top of your to do list. You quirk a brow and Karkat rolls his eyes, catching on immediately. The other boy keeps smiling at the both of you, a bit awkwardly, clearly having no idea what was going on. 

“My name is John Egbert, by the way,” he pipes up. You briefly wonder why everyone’s parents in your year decided to give their children the most boring fucking names in the history of goddamn ever when Karkat demands that you stop fucking daydreaming and pay for the shit you bought so he can leave. You grudgingly hand over the cash and he gives you another outstanding eye roll worthy of only the most sarcastic of friends.

“Wait five minutes and I’ll be off. Don’t fucking leave for that party without me, Strider,” he demands, handing you a receipt. You salute him and turn back towards John, whose name you’ve decided really suits him. He throws out his hand at you for you to shake and you accept, confirming that the kid is definitely a lot stronger than he looks.

“M’ Dave. Dave Strider,” you offer, shaking his hand. John grins and lets go.

“Nice to meet you Dave!” he says cheerfully. You nod and wait for him to buy his stuff.

“Hey, listen, if you want, I can give you a ride to that party, or something. We’re pretty much going to the same place, might as well, right?” you offer.

John looks at you for a second before nodding his head. “Yeah that actually sounds great! Just let me pay for my stuff and we can go after your friend finishes!” he says, handing Karkat a $20 bill.

Karkat looks at him for a second, studying him. John doesn’t seem to notice but afterwards he looks at you as if he approves. Well, in his own, weird, Karkat-way. It was more of “this guy probably would make me want scratch out my eyes and fill the gaping wounds with lead but not as much as other people so I guess he’s okay” kind of look, which is good enough for you.

Thunder rumbles from outside, and all three of you turn to look at the doors, where lightning flashes brightly in the distance. “It’s getting pretty bad out there,” John mumbles, watching people rush out to their cars through the rain.  “At this rate the buses won’t even be running in the morning.”

You shrug and can’t help but agree. You remember the tornado warnings from earlier on the television suggesting that you don’t even leave your house today at all. You guess the college kids didn’t get the memo though, with the party and all. Plus the mass amounts of people fucking around at Walmart this late.

“Worse comes to worse, you have to stay at the dudes house a little longer or catch a ride with some hung-over kid. You’ll be fine, though. I guess I won’t let the homeless people get you so early in the morning,” you sigh, looking over and smirking at John.

He nods seriously and is halfway through thanking you when the lights flicker. You look over at him and he gives you a worried look. It’s only two more minutes until Karkat’s shift is over and then you all can fuck off out of here.  You look up at the TV screens to try and distract yourself from the apocalyptic sounds coming from outside when it changes to an emergency broadcast. A young woman in a red pantsuit sits at a desk with various pictures and clips of the tornado that’s supposedly headed directly towards you. You catch just the end of what she’s saying when the sound cuts in.

“-residents are advised to stay in their homes and seek shelter if not there already. Winds are at an all-time high and it would be ill-advised to exist from any buildings until the threat passes-“ she says seriously. You don’t get to hear the rest of what she says because right then, the power completely cuts out. Suddenly, everything around you is pitch black except for the emergency lights on the registers and the glow of people’s phones being slowly brought out. There is a collective groan from the people left in the store and you look over at John in the darkness, wondering how you’re supposed to react.

“Shit, we aren’t getting to that party, man,” you say, whipping out your phone to see if you can get any service at all to tell Bro what’s going on but you’ve got nothing. The tornado must have fucked with your service tower. The rain continues to pound against the pavement along with the howling of the wind, and the murmurs of the concerned people in Walmart. Karkat doesn’t leave his station but you can see him giving his manager a look of absolute death in the light of his register when he walks by.

He’s a short, chubby man, not particularly bursting with authority, but luckily the rest of the customers along with you and John decide to listen to him anyway. He seems to have found a flyer that he could form into a makeshift megaphone. He ends up giving an entire spiel about the dangers of the current situations outside, and though he isn’t forcing anyone to stay, makes it pretty clear that at this point you have a death wish if you decide to leave.

“So they’re just going to, what? Hand out a couple of blankets and tell everyone to get comfy?” John asks you. You shrug and automatically move closer to him as people start shuffling to follow the manager to the back of the store.

As you walk, you notice Karkat running around the store with a couple of other employees informing the stragglers of what’s going on. A little girl clings to his hand as he guides some more people towards the back. You decide that you’ll have to put that one in the book to make fun of him for later. That’s sort of why you like Karkat: despite the fact that he acts like the definition of giant asshole pretty much all the time, he’s actually not that bad of a guy. He just yells a lot, is all. John seems to agree silently with you as he watches Karkat lead the little girl to her mother. She yawns and you think they must be on a trip or something.

“Shitty place to be a 3 year old right now,” you mumble, sort of feeling in the same boat as her, wishing you could just go to bed.

“No kidding. I don’t think I want to party much anymore,” John agrees, running his hand through his hair. The manager runs over to you as both enter the back and hands you a blanket.

“Just one?” John asks him and the guy shrugs, looking apologetic.

“Sorry kid, we only have so much, and ya know, women and children first. You two will have to share if you wanna stay warm. The storm isn’t exactly keeping the place toasty if ya know what I mean,” he says before heading off to hand a blanket to a college girl nearby. You look over at John and shrug because sharing a blanket with a dude you just met is totally normal and not super weird and gay. Not at all.

You both sort of shuffle awkwardly into a corner; he looks at you with his normal grin and throws half the blanket over you with no problem at all. “I guess you’ll get to know me more than you thought!” he laughs, shoulder flush against yours.

Despite the fact that it’s pretty cold in the back storage of Walmart, John is warm and you’re pretty much alright with this. You adjust the shades on your face and realize that this is sort of turning out to be hella fucking awkward and you don’t really know what to say to this guy, so you don’t say anything. You just sit with John and watch the manager find some sort of small generator that turns on a couple of lights and people plant themselves around it. The wind is still howling outside and John furrows his eyebrows.

“My roommate’s gonna be so worried, I can’t get any service in here.”

“I would say Bro would be worried, but I honestly think the fucker is probably all tuckered out and snoozing away on the futon like it’s his damn job,” you drone, shrugging.

John laughs and shakes his head. “Well, I promised Jake I would be at the party; though, he’s sort of forgetful, he might just not have noticed at all.”

You smile. John’s roommate sort of sounds like the guy your brother is dating, who is just this big clumsy kid with a weird accent. Now that you think about it, they even sort of look alike. You decide to remind yourself to never have that thought again because you and your brother cannot have the same taste in guys; yours is far more refined. You have more dignity than that.

“It’s only a small fucking tornado, I mean, it’s pretty easy to forget,” you say sarcastically and John nods.

“He really does suck at the whole making sure I don’t die thing,” he agrees. “Nan made him promise that I wouldn’t, and she’s going to be so mad if she finds out that I died in the back of a Walmart sharing a blanket with some guy I just met.” He tightens the blanket around his own shoulders, drawing the two of you closer together. 

You flush red and avoid his eyes, glad for the darkness of the room and of your shades. The two of you fall back into a silence and you start drawing out a tic tac toe game in the dirt of the floor (which is about as disgusting as the inner folds of an unwashed shit-bathing hunk of pork). John notices and soon joins you, refusing to use the “o”, but a smiley face instead. The sky thunders once more and you all snap your head up. A woman stares right at you as your eyes travel back down from the pounding rain on the roof. She studies the both of you for a minute before muttering something which you hear as “fucking faggots” and shakes her head. John looks over at you and frowns, a slight blush on his face.

“I-I shit. Sorry, John,” you say. “If that kinda shit bothers you, we don’t have to share this. I can man it out in the cold on my own. Pretty sure my ancestors probably rode polar bears or something and fought homophobic assholes like that bitch. Shit, I’ll use my fucking frozen nips as goddamn swords if I have to.” You pull the shitty Walmart blanket off of your shoulders. John shakes his head and yanks it back onto you.

“It’s fine, Dave. Don’t worry about it. I won’t even have a place to burn your body if you die! So it’s probably better this way,” he says, and you decide that there is no way he meant for that to sound creepy and John is probably just a giant fucking nerd who would try to give you a Vikings death in the middle of a tornado in the back of a Walmart, which is exactly how you’ve always wanted to go.  

You nod seriously and John excuses himself to the bathroom. You vaguely promise to keep the blanket warm but, if you’re being truthful with yourself, you’re sort of afraid that the bitch who called the both of you faggots might have pointed out to John that you are indeed sort of gay. You silently berate yourself and decide that woman might have just fucked up your chances with this guy who you actually think you might like kinda a hella fucking lot for meeting him in a Walmart at 2 in the morning.

Karkat walks over to you in the middle of your mental battle and nudges you “gently” with his foot. “Psst! Dave, fucking help me over here, Jesus,” he whispers to you and you look up and try not to laugh at what you see.

Karkat is standing there with a small girl asleep on his hip, he looks like a stressed out new mother. You fail at the whole not laughing thing and end up letting out an awful snort as he gives you a particularly hard kick.

“Shut up! Her mom asked me to watch her while she went to the bathroom and she just passed out on me! Now the kid won’t let go!” he says, clearly being careful not to swear in case the kid wakes up. She gives him a little nuzzle and you decide that despite how ornery the guy is, he should probably have a kid someday. You sigh and motion for him to sit down.

“Pop a squat poppa bear, make this blanket your love cave,” you say as Karkat mock-retches, but sits down beside you anyway, careful not to wake the young girl.

She can’t be more than two, you think, as her blond hair wrapped in bows falls over her shoulder. You feel a little jealous of her, to be honest, you wish you could still pass out like that. When you were a kid you never had trouble sleeping like you do now, you would sleep anywhere you could. Bro found you on multiple occasions passed out in laundry hampers.

“Lucky kid,” you mumble, and Karkat kind of half-smiles down at her before rolling his eyes dramatically at you.

A silence follows the both of you for a moment, a lingering question still hanging in the air as you sit wrapped under the blanket with your friend and a two-year old.

“What’s up with you and the other guy?” he asks you. You pretend you have no idea what he’s talking about. John who?

“You mean the other guy here with me? What’s his name again? Jake something?” you say, laughing awkwardly. Karkat punches you. You cave. You’re also weak to Karkat’s pestering. “Shut up. He’s honestly just some guy who I met in line, who happens to be goddamn adorkable. I’m damn serious, bro, did you see that kid’s grin? It could simultaneously cure cancer and give every deserving puppy a metaphorical kiss at the same time,” you say, like you can’t really accurately depict how incredibly cute John is and how, in the period of several hours, you’ve developed quite a crush on him.

“So you want to-“ he covers the little girl’s ears for this part, “how did you describe the last guy you liked? ‘Ride his dick like he’s an angry, attention-deficit bull, and you’re his overly-ambitious rider who needs to win the championship so he can pay for his Abuelita’s renter’s insurance’?” he said, perfectly quoting you. You may also get carried away sometimes when you find someone attractive, it’s true.

“Yeah, something like that. But with more hanging on the line, maybe I need to pay for her cancer treatment instead,” you shrug. Karkat allows himself to laugh a little, being careful of the kid that was now on his lap.

“You’re disgusting, Strider, no wonder you’re still a virgin,” he says, punching you lightly in the shoulder. You flush and shoosh him; you can’t let a Strider’s pride be questioned like that.

“Karkitten, that is confidential information and you need to keep that to yourself,” you say, still papping when John struts back, claiming his spot on the other side of you and snuggling closer to you to be included in the blanket space still.

Your blush has yet to cease when he asks you both, “What’s confidential?”

You and Karkat share a look and you shake your head. “Don’t worry about it, Egbert, it doesn’t affect you,” you say, moving your paps to John’s shoulder instead.

“Yeah, at least not right now,” Karkat retorts and you kick him, changing the topic, the sky still rumbling outside.

“You think we’ll ever get out of here?” you ask them, staring at one of the windows that they tried to quickly board up in case of it breaking and hurting someone. John shrugs.

“When I was in the bathroom, the guy next to me said that he managed to get a little bit of a signal and watch the news. I guess they said it should be passing within the next half-hour, and that was about ten minutes ago. So they’ll probably be letting people go pretty soon!” he pauses for a second and sighs. “I have no idea how I’m gonna get home now though, there’s no way I’m going to that party now and all the buses are probably cancelled,” he mumbles, trying to find service on his phone so he can get someone to pick him up. You look over at him and watch him biting his lip while the phone illuminated his face.

“Fuck, Egbert, I’ll drive you. I mean, you can’t live too far in this goddamn town, it’s all of 3 miles long I swear to god,” you offer.

Before John can even start protesting, another crack of thunder rumbles through the building. He looks at you, clearly nervous, his eyebrows pushing towards his glasses. “Are you sure, Dave? It seems really dangerous out there. We could get hit by flying cows for all I know!”

“I can’t consciously let you walk out in a storm, man. This isn’t some goddamn discovery channel drama,” you answer, shaking your head.

John smiles softly at you and your heart melts like a crayon on the dashboard of a sedan in the middle of Texas. “Thanks, Dave. That’s really nice of you,” he says softly. You can’t help the smile that you return, but you hope that Karkat didn’t see it; you can’t ruin the cool demeanor of yours in front of just anyone, now. But when you turn to look, Karkat is passed out on your shoulder, snoozing with the little girl in his lap. You feel John nuzzle up to your side as well and you turn to watch him close his eyes and you decide that getting a little shut-eye couldn’t really hurt anyone. So you lean back and assume that everyone will wake you up when it’s over.

For once, you fell asleep almost immediately.


The lights flicker back on about a half hour later and all three of you groan. John shoves his face into your shirt and shakes his head. You, already wearing your shades, had it the best out of everyone. Sadly, it’s probably the only sleep you’re gonna get tonight, but as it’s with one of your best bros and some random hot guy you found, you can’t really complain too much.

Karkat groans the loudest out of the three of you and carefully stands up, picking the still sleeping little girl up with him. He sighs. “I guess I should get this thing back to her mother before my boss scrapes the inside of my esophagus with my paystub for not helping getting everyone out in an orderly fucking fashion.”

You nod and give him a short wave, and John perks up and does the same thing. “By Karkat! It was nice meeting you!” he shouts after him.

Karkat nods and walks away, assumedly to find the girl’s mom, who seemed fairly close by. After he was out of earshot, John turned to you and laughed, still snuggled into your side. “Karkat doesn’t seem as bad as he looks. I mean, he swears a lot and kinda half yells about a lot of stuff, but he seems okay.”

You nod. “Yeah, just picture someone aggressively caring about people all the time and that’s Karkat, the fucking nerd,” you say, not really wanting to move but figuring it would be weird if you stayed there any longer. John seems to sense this as he gets up as well, folding the blanket and adding it to a pile the employees are trying to keep neat. The same chubby man from before is trying to usher people back to their lineups accordingly and warning many people to find the nearest motel and stay there if they didn’t live in the area, as the wind was still howling outside.

When the both of you decide to exit the store, empty-handed mind you, you’re both instantaneously greeted with the pouring down of rain and the wind raging in your ears. You squint at John through the rain and try to point him to the direction of your car. Every part of you wishes you could pull up in some sort of sweet bat mobile shit and swept John away, safe from the storm. Instead, you both half run to your brother’s shitty red ‘98 hatchback, which is still barely running. John doesn’t seem to mind, though, as you hop in the front seat and have to manually unlock the car door so he can get in. He shivers in the passenger side, water dripping from his hair.

“You look like a wet dog!” he laughs, shaking the water from his hair everywhere. You don’t bother saying anything but instead reach in the back, searching for something.

“Yeah yeah, yuck it up there, chuckles, but I would be careful what you say, because I’m the one here with dry clothes,” you retort, handing him one of two sweatshirts you keep in the car for such an emergency. John grins at you and thanks you, tearing off his own wet shirt.

Now, you would like to pretend that you don’t spend the entire time staring at John’s half-naked, wet body, but that would be a lie and you were not raised to be a liar. You ogle his arms as he stretches the sweatshirt over his head and trace your eyes down his fairly flat stomach and the small treasure trail that continues down into his underwear. 

“Dave?” he asks you, popping his head through the hood. “What are you waiting for, nice weather?” He laughs.

You blush and yank off your shirt, pulling on your other sweater. The rain thunders on the roof of your car and you nod at him, trying to turn it on. It sputters a couple of times but eventually starts and roars to life. You turn to John.

“Where to, Egbert?” you ask.

 John looks out the window for a second and smiles to himself. “Take a left out of here. I’ll tell you what to do from there.”

You nod and put the car in drive, following John’s instructions in varying amounts of silence as the storm thunders all around you. Finally, he breaks it and pokes you in the shoulder.

“So…I’ve been meaning to ask you,” he says, kind of avoiding your eyes. You keep yours pasted to the road. “Do you usually go and pick up random dudes at Walmart at two in the morning? Is this the kinda thing that happens all the time? Because I want to be treated like a proper lady, Dave; you better buy me dinner first.”

He laughs, punching you lightly in the shoulder. You smirk and sigh. You sort of hope that means he knows you’re hitting on him just a little bit. Well, not really. Kinda. Fuck you John Egbert is just a hottie with a body and you’re trying to get a taste.

“Anytime, anyplace, Egbert,” you smirk, lowering your shades to send him a quick wink. You like to imagine that when you turned away he totally swooned like your goddamn damsel. Your manly damsel.

“How about breakfast instead?” he asks, pointing at the little 24 hour diner at the end of the road.

“Is that where you were directing me the entire time? John, you sly fucking dog. I see through your clever plan,” you accuse, waving your finger dramatically. John flushes and grins.

“Well, I knew that you would refuse to get food and I don’t have anything to eat but Twinkies in the house! Do you know how much I hate Twinkies, Dave? DO YOU?” he rants. “If I hadn’t eaten in weeks and someone came up to me with a Twinkie and tried to give it to me I would slap it the FUCK out of their hand and tell them that I will never eat that swine people consider food. Then I would probably apologize but HELL if I will eat that fucking Twinkie, Dave.”

You pull into the parking lot. Its nearing five in the morning now, and you’re wondering why you ever agreed to this in the first place, but your stomach growls and John is grinning at you like a goddamn fool, you so smirk back and shut off the car.

“Alright man, no fucking Twinkies then. So what is this place? You’ve been here before?” you ask him, digging through the back for something to hold over your heads, You grab the jacket you were wearing before and run out of the vehicle, opening his door and covering the both of you as you walk to the entrance. He holds the other end of the coat and shrugs.

“Yeah, my Dad and I go here sometimes. My sister used to come too, but she moved away a while ago to go to school. It’s usually only a bunch of old people. They have pretty good pancakes and bacon though,” he says, opening the door for you.

You step into the diner and you have to admit, it is pretty cool looking. It’s like someone decided that the 50’s were totally a thing that’s still happening but decided to make it a lot less racist and just really damn rad. A waitress with a short dress is riding around in some roller-skates, serving the weirdly abundant amount of old people in the place. The walls have old pictures of movie stars and singers and stranger memorabilia hanging around everywhere you look. Best of all, there seems to be a small dance floor in the middle of the restaurant with a big fucking jukebox at the back. You turn to John and grin as the waitress rolls up to the both of you and smiles.

“I’m surprised there are so many of y’all here at this hour in this weather; then again, the old folk are having their early morning dancing still just as planned! For two then?” she asks, picking up two menus. You both nod as she rolls over to a cozy booth in the corner with a window seat, so you can see the storm still raging outside.

“What did she mean about the old people jams?” you ask John and he smiles, running a hand through his wet hair. It sticks to his forehead funny and you try to ignore the fact that he’s about as goddamn cute as a button. Not even a fucking regular button either, like if that button was made out of fucking happiness and bunny rabbits, it might be half as cute as the boy currently sitting across from you.

“I forgot that usually once a week a bunch of the old people in the retirement center get up at ungodly hours and dance to the oldies in the diner. Something about keeping them young,” he says, shrugging and going back to his menu. You smirk because somehow you know that at some point, John has been here at 5 in the morning, breaking it down with the oldsters of Washington.

You look down at your own menu and decide that basically everything looks delicious so you’re just gonna wing it and hope for the best. The waitress comes rolling back around after a couple of minutes and hands you both a glass of water with crazy straws in them and asks you what you want. John orders French toast and hash browns and you order what’s called “The Big One” which is basically every breakfast item they have.

“Are you sure? It’s a big one!” she asks you, flashing you a pretty smile and if you weren’t super gay for the kid sitting across from you, she might even be sort of cute. Her dark gold hair is pulled back into a high ponytail and her work uniform skirt is explicitly short on her. Suddenly, you are very aware of how attractive she is, and your eyes flash back to John, who is smiling at her as well. A wave of jealously rolls through you and you decide to get rid of her as quick as possible.

“Oh hell yes, I’m sure. Thank you,” you say, injecting the last of your words with a little bit of an edge to them, as if you’re telling her it’s really time for her to GTFO. As soon as she’s gone, your fear is realized as John raises and eyebrow and gives a small whistle, before descending into laughter at his own stupid gesture.

“That girl is kinda cute though, I mean, with her uniform and all!” he says a bit awkwardly, not sure if it’s okay to talk about this kind of thing with you yet. You shrug and decide to be completely honest.

“Yeah, I guess so, she’s not really my type though,” you say shortly, sipping on your water.

John smirks. “Okay, what is your type then?”

“Male,” you answer back quickly, the blush on your face quickly matching the one heating up John’s cheeks. He lets a small “oh” you don’t think you were supposed to hear and is quiet for a second.

“So…you’re completely gay, then?” he asks you, avoiding your eyes. You shrug again. Shrugging is really starting to be a fucking habit around this guy, Jesus.

“I guess you could say that. I don’t really care what’s in your pants as long as you identify as a dude. Some people think its just like a dick only thing. That's not really it. I'm attracted to the gender not the sex. ” you say, realizing how shitty of an explanation that was and how much you don’t want to have this conversation with the probably very straight John, who you’ve spent the majority of your night with and probably ruined everything. You even feel kind of weird explaining it like that- but you don't know how socially aware this kid is! John shifts a little in his seat.

“Do you mind if I ask you something?” he blurts out, awkward as ever. You shake your head no and he continues, clearly nervous. “Was it hard? Coming o-out?”

You blink a couple of times before fully processing the question he asked you. “I don’t think so. I guess my Bro has always been pretty open sexually and it never really occurred to me as a kid that liking dudes was wrong. So when I ran home at the age of 7 telling him that I needed to marry this boy in my class, he wasn’t really surprised. I never really ‘came out’ I was just kinda always…outwardly gay,” you finish, wondering why he asked you in the first place. You ask him just that.

“I…think I might be bisexual, and I don’t really know how to tell people,” he answers, his cheeks getting darker. You try to ignore the small chorus of angels that start singing in your head. “I mean, I’ve only done stuff once with this guy at a party, and I was sorta drunk, but I liked it! And I would probably do it again, so I’m pretty sure I am?” he says, the words just pouring out of him like he’s been waiting to tell someone forever. In fact, you’re probably the first person he’s told. You do your best not to grin behind the hand that is covering your mouth and nod seriously.

“You don’t really have to tell people until you’re comfortable,” you say, remember how hard it was for your brother’s boyfriend to actually come out. You distinctly remember hearing him whine about it at stupid hours of the morning, probably after they finished banging like goddamn bunnies. You honestly still don’t think he’s being completely honest with his family. That’s beside the point, though. “Fuck, you don’t ever have to tell people if you don’t feel like it. No one is really forcing you and to be honest, it’s probably none of their damn business whose junk you’re sucking on. Or fuck, just tell everyone, make it a damn Facebook post if you want to,” you rant as John continues to flush furiously. “Or, just tell people when you feel like. Bring it up casually all like, ‘hey, you want pizza for dinner, we can split the toppings half and half, like my sexuality.’ The people who matter won’t give a fuck if you wanna go to third base with some dude.”

John actually ends up smiling at you at the end of your rant and you feel sort of bad because holy shit John likes dick, holy shit you have a chance with one of the cutest guys you’ve ever met.

“I think my sister knows, she always knows stuff like that. My cousin probably does, too. She’ll wanna hear me say it, though. Maybe I should just get super drunk and tell them so I don’t remember and can stop being so darn NERVOUS. I feel lame,” he confesses.

You snort. “You are lame, no worries dude,” you grin at him and John punches you in the arm, just in time for your drinks to arrive. 

The waitress arrives back with your stuff and you eye the milkshake you’ve been granted. It looks like all the ones from every one one of your 50’s fantasies about food. Whipped cream, cherry, and everything. John started sipping on his one similar to yours and you vaguely wonder how you managed to end up at a diner with a boy that is way out of your league at 5 in the morning.  

“Shit, dude, this is all I ever dreamed of,” you moan, taking a sip of the fucking miracle elixir in front of you. John groans in agreement and you can’t help but stare at him as he sucks on the cherry from his own milkshake. You hold down a groan and focus on trying to identify the music that started playing louder from the jukebox.

“Damn,” John swears, ceasing his sweet milkshake action. “I actually love this song.” He admits, looking a little ashamed.

It’s pretty old, easily something from the late 50’s early 60’s, one of those really old sounding songs that your grandparents are supposed to listen to on the radio to remind them of their lost childhood or something. The beat is still decent though, and you picture all the kids swing dancing to their hearts’ content. All the old folks start getting out of their seats with a few select shouts and cheers, getting ready to dance.

“Dude, you like this old-timey stuff?” you ask, not really trying to make fun of him. Not really.

John laughs and rubs his hand on the back of his neck. “Aha, yeah! My Nanna and Popop really like this kind of stuff, and they used to babysit my sister and I all the time so we listened to it a lot. I know all the words and everything,” he confesses. You smirk at him and he ignores you, mumbling the words quietly to himself.

Suddenly an old woman comes up to him and pats him on the arm. “I know you’re not too young to dance with us oldsters now, are you son?” she asks, and John grins, shrugging.

“I would, but I don’t even know how to dance. Well, at least, not like you guys.”

“Oh you don’t need to know! You think we know? We just like dancing together. Now get up, boy, let’s see what you can do!” she says, pulling him up by the arm.

John goes along with it, flushing and laughing. You wave and watch him as the old woman pulls him into a fun-looking dance. God, you thought the fucking guy couldn’t get any more endearing and you were so wrong it’s painful. You think you might have fallen a little bit in love with John as you watch him try to spin around the old woman and eventually dip her lightly. The music is cheerful as the elderly switch partners and John has a turn with everyone, the seniors all basically goddamn delighted that he knows all the words to their favourite songs and sings along with them as he dances. He looks over at you and grins.

“Dave, join us, it will be fun! Gloria could use a partner, you know!” he yells, motioning for you to join. You freeze. You have no fucking idea how to dance. At least not, well, properly. You dabbled in breakdancing when you were younger but it’s not like you’ve ever been to school dances or anything. Before you can say another word, though, you’re being dragged up by a woman whom you can only assume is Gloria.

You do the best you can and at least manage to realize that her hand goes on your shoulder and yours goes on her waist. She still basically leads you, though, spinning you around the dance floor and grinning. John slaps you on the back as you pass each other, giving you one of his stupid fucking brilliant smiles and you even blush that time, like a goddamn virgin. Gloria smiles at you and leans in close, her head hardly reaching your shoulder.

“Oh, I remember what it was like to be young and in love,” she says, quieter than you expected and you sputter, hoping to god that John didn’t hear.

“W-We’re not-“ you start, before she paps her hand on your face and shushes you.

“Sonny, don’t be ridiculous, no one looks at each other like that when they aren’t in love. Enjoy it. One day you’ll look back and remember how wonderful it was. Does he know?” she asks you, letting you spin her around. You look around for John but he is over in the other corner, currently spinning two ladies on each of his arms.

“Nah. We just met five hours ago. I’m gonna kiss him, though. I don’t know when or how, but I’m gonna do it,” you admit to her. She grins at you and pats your head, letting you go to find another partner.

“That’s the spirit. Go get him, young man. There will never be a better time than the present!” she grins, pushing you at John. You stumble towards him but manage to catch your balance before he notices. He smiles at you when he turns around and holds out his hand.

“May I have this dance?” he asks you, wiggling his eyebrows. You roll your eyes and take his hand, apparently deciding that you will be the woman in this situation. It’s ridiculous. You’re trying to focus on John’s valiant attempt as getting you to do a lift but all you can focus on is how incredibly warm John is. Not to be fucking creepy, but he even smells good, like aftershave and cake batter and shit you are dancing with John. “Dave you are shit at dancing,” he laughs and you punch him, snapping out of it.

“Screw you, Egbert, none of the boys ever asked me to dance in 8th grade, what do you expect?” you grumble, careful not to step on his feet for the third time. He grins at you and pulls you closer, resting his head on your shoulder. He’s quiet for a few minutes and despite the fact that you will never admit it, this is probably one of the best things that has ever happened to you.

“It’s 5:30 in the morning, Dave, I met you three hours ago; why are we slow-dancing in a diner with a bunch of old people?” he murmurs, his breath tickling your ear. You flush and decide that John is stupid because you have never blushed in your life as much as you have in the past three hours.

“I have no idea, Egbert. Let’s get our grub to go and ditch this popsicle stand,” you mumble back, pulling away from him and he nods seriously. “I know a cool place where we can eat it,” you say, suddenly remembering that you have the perfect place to show him. He looks at you curiously but somehow decides he trusts you and nods, going up to the waitress and asking for your food to go.

Soon enough, the both of you are back in your shitty car and driving to your undisclosed location. Luckily, it’s finally stopped raining and the sun is just starting to rise above the clouds as you drive. The radio plays softly as you both sat in a comfortable silence, John looking out the window, holding his wrapped up food in his arms.

Eventually you pull off the road onto a thin road that is a lot rockier, then into a small parking lot. The parking lot happened to be tucked in a corner off the highway up on top of a hill. A lot of kids come here to go tobogganing in the winter or fly kites in the summer, but at 6 in the morning, with the sun just rising after a storm, it was basically the most beautiful place in the world. Also you may be a giant fucking sap but you sort of think that maybe John deserves to have someone take him to a cheesy sunrise because if anyone needs the kinda storyline from one of Karkat’s shitty rom-coms, it’s him.

John gives you an incredulous look as you put your shitty car into park and look over at him, smirking.

“Tell me you aren’t thoroughly wooed, John Egbert,” you say slyly as the morning sun lights up his face.

“Dave, I am wooed. I got breakfast and a sunrise I’ll have to tell my diary this,” he jokes, picking at the food in his lap. You poke him in the shoulder and grab your coat from the back, just remembering that it exists.

“It stopped raining , so let’s sit on the hood like a proper date,” you say, shoving open your car door. John looks up at you over your car and quirks his eyebrows.

“Is that what this is, Dave, a date?” he asks you.

You start to stumble out an answer when he laughs and ignores you, getting on the hood of your car. You join him and look off into the sunrise for a minute before your eyes travel back towards John, who you swear to god pretty much has the sunrise rivaled. He chews on his lip and turns back a little, looking at you instead. You can still hear the radio playing from your rolled down window and you’ve never wanted to kiss someone more.

He clears his throat awkwardly and looks down at his phone. “Ahh, this is awesome, Dave! But I should probably get back soon. You know, roommate and stuff,” he says, sliding off the hood of the car.  You can help but feel bitterly disappointed. ‘Closing Time’ is playing on the radio and everything.

“Yeah, of course,” you say, getting off the hood as well. He waits for you and you go to the passenger side of the car to open the door for him like a goddamn gentleman anyway. “Shit. John, uh, listen. I actually had a pretty cool time, and you seem all right. Truth is, I don’t know a lot of cool people around here, do you wanna maybe text me or something? Like, can I have your number, or whatever.” You rub the back of your neck. John stares at you for a second, a weird look on his face; he looks pretty indecisive about something. You offer him an awkward half smile, hoping not to seem like the biggest fucking loser ever.

“Fuck it,” he groans out before shoving you against the door of your car and kissing you harder than you’ve ever been kissed before.

John’s lips are a little chapped and he tastes an awful lot like the strawberry milkshake he had an hour ago and it’s goddamn choice. Your head is buzzing and it takes you a few seconds to realize that holy shit John is kissing you. You manage to figure out that you should probably kiss him back. You do the best you can, pressing back against him just as eagerly. Your glasses clink and you bump noses a little, but it still might be the best kiss you’ve ever had. You kiss him like he’s going to disappear any second and just be someone who you dreamt up. Slowly, he reminds you that this is, in fact, real, and presses one of his hands against your face. Despite the fact that he’s kissing you almost feverishly, you can’t help but think that he’s still gentle, not pressing you as hard as he could be, his free hand running through your hair instead of tugging at it.

He pulls away for a second, looking to catch his breath, and you stare at him. His bright blue eyes blink back at you and you nearly groan, moving to pull him back to you.

“Ah, Dave- wait!” he says, stopping you. You breathe hard and wait impatiently, hoping that he’ll go back to kissing you soon. “I- shit. I just met you, this is…wrong,” he huffs out sadly, still trying to catch his breath.

“Fuck, dude. No, John, listen. I’ll take you on a real date, okay? If you want, shit, dude, I’ll take you on one hundred real dates. I don’t care if we just met, man, I’ve never actually wanted to kiss anyone as much as I need to kiss you right now,” you admit quietly, embarrassed that you actually just fucking said that. What is this, the goddamn Notebook?

John looks at you and breaks, kissing you again, his resolve apparently worse than yours. The kiss is deeper this time and his hands start to grip your hair a little tighter. You press your bodies a little closer and kiss him a little deeper, biting his bottom lip lightly. He groans and it’s the best noise you’ve ever heard. Quickly he fumbles with the car door and pulls you off of it for a second just to throw you in the back seat of your car. John manages to shut the door behind him and straddles you, looking down at your chest as if he were starving and you’re the first meal he’s seen in weeks. He attaches himself to your face once more and you fail not to smack your head off the car door.

“Fuck,” you mutter while John snorts, laughing into the crook of your neck.

“Holy shit, sorry,” he chokes out, trying to not laugh harder. You frown and say that it’s fine, hoping that you can just get back to kissing.

You do.

You and John make out for what seems like an eternity before he starts to slowly kiss down your neck, sucking and biting directly where your pulse is beating. He gives a particularly hard suck that goes straight to your groin and you make an embarrassing noise that you will never admit to making ever. You can feel John smile against your skin and you shift a little, thinking that this was awfully fucking one sided and you are not prepared to become a goddamn blushing bride just yet. You yank John’s collar so he is back on your lips and you push him down onto the backseat of your car, making it so you’re no longer stuck under his fucking hammer arms. He looks up at you, lips swollen and panting lightly and damn if you have ever seen anything better in your whole life.

You grin and lick a thin stripe up his throat before nibbling below his ear. John arches up into you and his shitty Ghostbuster pajamas don’t really leave much to the imagination. Slowly, you grind down on him once and you both shudder. A shock of pleasure courses through you and you gasp, hiding your face into his neck.

“F-Fuck!” John breathes, his arms tight around you, pulling you down so you grind against him once more. A moan bubbles up in your throat and you try not to rut against John senselessly in search of more fucking friction. You muffle your moans with his mouth and kiss him again, tracing your hands up under his shirt, memorizing the planes of his stomach as you moved awkwardly against each other. You break from him for a second and kiss his cheek, while trailing your hand to the waistband of his PJs.

“Is this okay?” you ask him quietly, John looks down at you, his eyes half-lidded with lust, and nods eagerly. You want to make fun of him but to be honest it’s just really hot. You fiddle with the band of his underwear, teasingly running your hand over the bulge in his underwear. John moans and thrusts up to meet your hand every time you lightly brush up against him.

“Dave, don’t be such a fucking tease,” he stammers, breathing heavily. “Fuck, please touch me.”

Like you could deny to such a polite request.

You do as he asks, pulling his dick out of his boxers and grabbing it by the base, moving your hand slowly at first. John moans loud enough for anyone within a ten-mile radius to blush and you try to match your speed so that it’s better suited to his needy thrusting. With every thrust into your hand, John gets harder and harder to understand, mumbling obscenities and something that sounds distinctly like your name.

You can’t help but think you want to hear it a little clearer. So you hold John’s legs still with your thighs and slowly bend over, taking a long languid lick up the shaft of his dick. A loud moan rips out of John’s throat and you take that as a sign to continue, experimentally engulfing him into the heat of your mouth. John wraps your hair around his fingers and tries to stop himself from thrusting up into your mouth, careful not to choke you.

“Ahh –D-Dave!” he moans, and your dick fucking throbs. Oh man, no way are you gonna come in your pants from giving your first blowjob. You are a MAN and that would be stupid and dumb and this is not your wet dream, this is real life, and you have to last a little longer. You go into goddamn mission mode and suck John’s dick like you’re getting paid for it or something, licking up and down it like he the nicest fuckin lollipop in the store. John’s moans get louder and louder and you think the windows are fogging up like some titanic shit. He gives a particularly hard thrust and you can feel the hot cum pooling in the back of your mouth before you swallow it down, letting him ride out his orgasm.

You pull your mouth off his dick with a lewd popping sound and stare back up at him, catching your breath. He stares at you for about three seconds, then the kid you met at Walmart four hours ago sits up and starts making out with you like it’s his last fucking day on Earth or something, shoving the hand that isn’t currently wrapped around your waist in a vice grip between your legs.

“Shit, John, ” you breathe out, arching into his touch. His hands aren’t even down your pants but your dick is aching and his hands are warm and the friction just feels so fucking good. He continues kissing you as you hump into his hand desperately, making embarrassing keening noises and blushing like the fucking virgin you are. You stop kissing him because quite frankly, you can’t do two things at once like that, and press your forehead against his as he teases you through the front of your sweats. The fabric is starting to feel a lot thinner than it actually is and John is kissing your neck again while you pant in his ears, and suddenly your vision goes fucking white and your shades are slipping off your face as you goddamn cum in your pants.


John looks up at you, noticing the clear dark stain on the front of your pants and raises a cheeky brow.

“Shut the fuck up, John!” you say, your face on fire. John laughs and kisses every part of your face he can. Still holding you, he presses his forehead back against yours and sighs. There’s a comfortable silence in the car and the windows are definitely more fogged than you thought they would be. You sort of find yourself hoping that this isn’t going to be just a hookup. You actually really like John. A lot. You’ve known the guy for maybe four and a half hours and you don’t think you’ve ever liked anyone as much as the blue-eyed nerd whose lap you’re currently sitting in.

You sigh and turn away from him, moving away from your impromptu cuddling session. “I guess I should get you back to your roommate, or whatever. He’s probably worried,” you say, sort of hoping that just because you said it doesn’t mean you have to do it. John chews on his lip for a second with his cute buckteeth and looks up at you from under his lashes.

“Or…we could just stay here for a while?” he suggests.

You smile and look out the front window of your car, watching the sun rise for a minute and decide that staying wouldn’t be all that bad.



It’s another late night and you’re in almost the exact same position as you were three months ago, standing in the soda isle in Walmart at 1 in the morning. There are some frat guys grabbing supplies for a party and you narrowly avoid harassment once again. You grab your brother his traditional orange soda and make your way to the checkout, dodging douchebags and jocks alike. The man in front of you gets off the phone after apparently yelling at his mother, and you find yourself not being able to wait to blow this popsicle stand.

Suddenly, there is a nudge at your side and you look over into the eyes of your grinning boyfriend holding a pack of gum and looking like he can’t wait to prank the asshole in front of you.

You don’t think you’ve ever been more in love with John Egbert than you are right now.