The Art of Becoming Stridersexual (Homestuck JohnDave)

Chapter 3

You are now John Egbert.

You've been at the Piexes' house- well, mansion- for over 6 hours. And you're not even halfway through the fifth Harry Potter movie yet.

Your friends are all around you in various stages of awareness and comfort. Karkat retreated to lie by himself on the floor awhile ago, though he was soon joined by Nepeta, who's now lying next to him contentedly. Eridan went to sit next to Aradia in front of the chair he had previously resided in, though his mind remained in Hogwarts, surprisingly oblivious to Aradia's sleeping head on his shoulder. Kanaya and Rose had barely moved, utterly enthralled in the movie, though both had seen it at least 20 times.

You? You're lying down on the couch that had previously seated Terezi, Dave, and Karkat. The only remaining people on the couch are you, Dave, and Vriska. Your head rests on Dave's leg, and your legs are curled up so that Vriska can sit on the other end of the couch.

Dave is trying to look disinterested, but you know him well enough to see through his seemingly relaxed facade. It's obvious (to you, at least) that he's loving the movie. Dave's always trying to hide his nerdy side in order to play the role of cool guy extraordinaire, but every so often the two of you will engage in heated Star Wars vs. Star Trek debates. Which you always win with Star Trek, of course.

Despite most of your friends being glued to the T.V. screen, you couldn't care less about The Kid with the Hideous Glasses and His Ginger Friends. Your eyelids are falling more and more every second. You probably have 5 minutes, tops, before you're out cold. Until then, you can watch these wizard asshats muck around.

You arrange yourself slightly so that you're as comfortable as you can get and close your eyes. You don't even have enough time to contemplate your day before you drift off into a dream-filled rest.

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You're awakened by a cold hand repeatedly smacking your cheek. "Egbert." a low voice says. "It's time to wake up."

You grumble something that you hope sounds like, "go away, Dave," and roll over.

Your message must have gotten across, because the smacking hand moves to your shoulders to shake you back and forth. "You have to wake up if you want pancakes."

At the mention of pancakes, your eyes snap open. "Pancakes?"

Dave looks down at you, a bemused smile playing across his lips. "Yup. Come and get 'em."

You sit up with a new hunger-induced determination. A quick scan of the room reveals that everybody else has already awoken and sought out their breakfast, though traces that they'd been there were everywhere.

Dave stands and begins walking towards the kitchen, immediately followed by you. He talks to you over his shoulder.

"I though I'd have to amputate my leg to get away from you, man, you were sleeping so hard." He scans you up an down. "It's no wonder, since you weren't as fucking freezing as me."

You look down and realize that you're still in Dave's sweatshirt. It's a good thing, too, since you're cold even with it on. Without it, you'd have frozen to death.

You pull the sweatshirt tighter and grin at Dave. It's too early for you to come up with a decent comeback. Instead, you use the thought of a nice stack of pancakes and sausage to keep from falling back asleep in the hallway.

This plan works well until you arrive in the kitchen. You look around the room and see all of your friends, but no pancakes. No sausage, either. Only a couple boxes of Pop-Tarts that are already mostly empty.