[Homestuck] Dave X Reader X Dirk: Stride of Luck

7. the drift between

When you get back to your apartment, you kick open the door action-movie style and flop onto the couch face down, not really caring that Dave scrambles off it like a disgruntled cat to accommodate your faceplanting.

"Woah. Who hit you with a truck?"

You grunt and drop the grocery bags on the floor, bringing your hands up to cover your face.

"Shit. Do I look like I got hit by a truck?"

"Um. No?"

The way Dave says that sounds like he's trying really hard to hold back the truth, but you appreciate his shitty attempt to make you feel better anyways.

"You kind of always look like this."

...Appreciated it while it lasted.

"Your apple juice." You speak into the cushions and point at the bags without raising your head. "And your cursed puppet Applejacks."

"Dope."

You hear Dave pawing through the goods beside you, seeking out his sacred fruity beverage and "healthy" sugary midnight snack. You allow your mind to wander back to the memory of a tall and rippling Dirk and sigh.

Why'd you always have to act like such a buffoon whenever you found anyone attractive? It seemed like all you were good at doing was making yourself the butt of jokes. But...

You felt your face tickle with warmth recalling his hearty laughter, replaying itself like a song stuck inside your head.

You supposed a little bit of a scatterbrain was a good thing, sometimes. It helped you get into good graces with Dirk, hadn't it? He had even told you to come see him at work, that had to count for something. You were basically engaged now, with three children and a mediocre house you'd never be able to repay the mortgage on until you were wrinkly and sixty!

Fuck. Wasn't this supposed to be a fantasy thought? How did debt sneak into here?

You take another deep inhale to steady your increasingly pounding mind, trying to banish the thoughts of living in a cardboard box under a bridge and return to hot-man wonderland.

Unfortunately, your deep breath was a little too deep, and you realize the couch kind of smells like ass, which makes sense, because that's literally all it ever got until an idiot decided to faceplant into it.

"Ugh, gross."

You turn your head and eyeball Dave, who was currently analyzing the back of the cereal box with a strange amount of concentration.

"Oh shit. I didn't realize you cared about the nutritional facts so much. I'll get you something healthier next time."

Dave jerks his head up, his train of thought broken.

"Huh? Nutritional facts?" He shakes the cereal box once, then twice. "Nah. I don't care about that crap. I was just trying to find out how to get Cinna-Mon to the caramel coaster without falling into Applejack's sweetness-snare."

He turns the box to you and points to what you assume is the "sweetness-snare," given it was labelled "SWEETNESS SNARE" with thirty-point comic sans font for blind nine-year olds.

"See? This puzzle is inherently flawed due to the way these paths are constructed. There's no way any kid can solve this and enter for the Grand Prize Sweetstakes. Not cool Kellogg's, not cool."

Um.

You try your best to not let the "what the fuck dude?" seep out onto your facial features, but your mouth speaks faster than your blessed little heart.