Deviation Actions
Literature Text
There's a whole novel written there, in the curve of his mouth (which is pretty much nonexistent, that is one straight pair of lips, there aren't gonna be any accidents on this stretch of road you can see clear down the whole way not a single bend dip twist or corner) and the crease between his brows and his eyes, man. Glasses don't hide anything with this kid, you're pretty sure everyone he has ever met has seen every emotion he's ever felt right there on his fucking face, it's all there, plain as day. Plain as white bread. Not the kind with seeds and shit sprinkled all over the top or shredded cheese or whatever (that shit's fucking awesome though), but the flavorless, textureless, boring-as-shit kind. You could pretty much taste a single grain of salt if it were sprinkled on that bread, that's how plain that motherfucker is.
You see him snap out of his reverie, make eye contact with Rose, and then cringe, caught in the middle of some rogue thought chain that undoubtedly led somewhere highly embarrassing and with any luck, hilariously unappropriate. He opens and closes his mouth a couple times without saying anything, like an adorabified interpretation of a creepy-ass sky blue goldfish with giant front teeth. You want to know what he was thinking about, you've never seen him so inattentive to his surroundings or stumped for words, it is downright unnerving. This is John we're talking about here, who likes to show up at your job and mess with your head and up his prankster's gambit frequently enough to settle just shy of intolerable and who doesn't so much as blink regardless of how verbosely you curse at him.
He's bolting out of his chair with pathetic excuses about bodily functions, and the whole table goes silent because John is fooling no one and something just went down that you completely missed.
You try to eyebrow-raise information out of Rose, because she must know what is going on she's just savvy like that and has the handy skillset that allows her fluency in the language of John Egbert, but she follows after him with only a brief, inscrutable glance in your direction. That girl wouldn't be scrutable if you were given a magnifying glass, a thousand page manual, and a fucking crystal ball. Chica might have a better pokerface than you, and that is saying something. Your pokerface is fucking legendary, goddammit.
You try to resume your conversation with Jade, but even her enthusiasm isn't enough to distract you. You get this sinking sensation in your gut, like it's your fault somehow and you should feel guilty. Which is crazy, because you were being totally innocent as fuck and talkin' to your pal Jade, minding your own business, how could you have messed up without saying a word?
Of course, if anyone could pull off a spectacular nonverbal fuckup of a nonexistent relationship, it would definitely be you. There are trolls who could attest to that, and they would be one hundred percent accurate. Signature at the bottom, hand over the bible, pen that fucker in blood because it's the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.
Leave it to Sol to be screwing with you even when you haven't talked to the guy in fucking weeks. Asshole.
"Earth to Dave, come in Captain Dave!" Jade is waving a hand in front of your face, which is dumb because you were looking right at her. Well, sort of. In the seeing-but-totally-ignoring-her kinda way.
"Harley, are you trying to direct planes here? 'Cause I see no other conceivable reason for waving your arms at people in such a manner. It's mad obtrusive and shit."
"Well, you didn't answer me, douchenozzle, so I had to get your attention! You're supposed to actually listen to people you're talking to, Dave, that's like the first rule of social interaction. Did they skip that in coolkid school?" She chuckles at you in a way that means she's not really offended at being ignored, which you appreciate. It makes the crippling guilt a little easier to deal with. Harley's really not such an awful person (she's downright angelic who are you even kidding she is fucking rad as shit) and she doesn't deserve your incompetency.
"I resent that, Harley, we are taught only the most suave and polite of social intercourse in our coolkid lessons. But I had to flunk all my classes in order to graduate 'cause everyone knows aceing ain't the way of the properly established coolkid," you say, hoping she can suss out the meaning buried somewhere in the irony because you do not do actual feeling jams. Shit's just not conducive to your flow.
The thing about Harley, much to your relief, is that she never seems to need the actual words. She just gives you a rather violent slug to the shoulder, and you know by the stinging bruise you feel forming followed by the cheerful subject change that all is forgiven. Girl speaks your language.
You try to fall back into the comfortable rhythm of conversation you'd found during dinner, but the beat just won't jive without the bucktoothed idiot and the blonde all-knowing witch. Even getting Karkat riled up doesn't seem quite right; he won't yell as loud without John coming at him from the other side, taking your comments and layering on some pranksterly insults for you to work off of. Karkat's responsive rage is similarly lackluster.
So you give up on conversation after a bit, just listening mostly, and then decide that it might be better if you made your exit before shit got awkward. So you tell Jade you're headed out, just in time for Rose to make a reappearance and a frankly awful suggestion.
"It saddens me to see you departing to early, Dave, but if you have prior engagements we understand. John, why don't you be a gentleman and walk Dave out?"
You unleash your harshest glare on Rose, but it's a complete bust because she's not even looking at you. She's luring John back into the room and none-too-gently shoving him at you with a smirk.
God, you hate this chick. She couldn't just let you make a smooth getaway.
"Nah it's cool, I'm just gonna give my bro a call an' he'll come get me," you say, even though you aren't sure if that's true at all. But you really don't need another awkward situation with Egbert, you think you've both had enough of that for one day. For a week. No, a month.
"He insists," Rose says, and something in her tone makes your blood run ice cold, just for a moment. You glance over at John, who is doing his best to smile through his embarrassment, and it isn't really working too well. He keeps fidgeting and he can't quite meet your eyes. But like hell are you going to give him space when Rose is looking at you like that.
"Right, fine, don't have a grimdark terrorfit and mass murder people, he can come, whatever. I'm literally just gonna be standing outside for like two minutes." You throw the words at her like a plea, don't hurt me i'm innocent just a little babyfaced angel here honest, and she just gives you this satisfied hmm, and you see her think to herself, that's more like it, and then John is rushing past you to open the door and shuffle awkwardly some more.
You leave before Rose can do something even worse, and John trails after you as you descend the stairs to the ground level of the building.
"That chick is one scary motherfucker. What did you ever do to incur her wrath?" It's a rhetorical question and you don't really expect an answer, pulling out your phone halfway through to dial Dirk's cell. It'll be more like like thirty minutes, if you go by his average response time, but hell would've frozen over before you would make that common knowledge.
"I'm not really sure..." he trails off as you both exit the front door of the apartment complex to stand and wait outside. It's just starting to get dark and you're looking at the sky trying to guess if you can walk home before it gets to be full-on night as you find Dirk's number in your contacts. You don't think John is going to break the silence, but after a moment he surprises you. "She was friends with Jade first, and then she was just kinda everywhere? For all I know she's an actual magician and she worked some hoodoo witchcraft on us or something." He's toned it down from pants-wetting to a mere sweaty-palms with a bit of nervous-giggle, so you think there might be hope for this situation yet.
"I'm, uh. Really, really sorry about today!" He says out of nowhere, and you turn to face him. "I was kind of a dick. A major dick. And, um. I didn't realize it until Rose beat me over the head with a stick, so. I feel really bad about... that." John is dancing from foot to foot and wringing his hands and damn, this is painful to watch.
"No worries, dude. Today was actually, y'know. Not a complete suckfest, weirdly enough."
"Haha, wow, high praise coming from you! Jade must've really shown you a good time if you're not unbelievably pissed at me."
"Yeah, Jade's pretty chill, but I don't see how anyone can be anything but downright manic with the happies after being treated to food like that," you say with a jerk of your head at the door you just exited.
"Haha! I suppose not." John isn't completely relaxed, but he's started actually looking you in the eye, which is progress. John Egbert has gained a level! You are now a Socially Awkward Derp.
"I'm just gonna call my bro real quick, see if he can come rescue me from my tower or if he needs me to let down my hair first," you say, before you can descend into awkward-silence-ville, and do just that.
Dirk actually picks up on only the second ring, which is a blessing.
"Sup?"
"Yo, I'm at this apartment on the other side of town. Think you can come get me?"
"That is within my capabilities, yes, given that I am, in fact, a licensed driver, and have been for several years now."
You roll your eyes. Does he really have to be such an ass about everything?
"Will you or will you not come pick me up?" You are tired, and so the words come out sharper than usual, and you think for a moment that he's going to refuse because of it.
"Address?" Is his characteristically short response, and you let out an audible sigh of relief.
"Uhh... 413 Windy Drive," you say after a glance at the number on the building and then John, who supplies you with the street name.
"Be there in ten," he says, and then there's a click as he hangs up.
"So he's coming?" John prompts, and you nod.
"Yeah, I can't believe he actually agreed. He must not be working on anything important right now." You stare at your phone for another second before pocketing it and turning back to John. "You don't have to wait, y'know, I can sit on stairs by myself. Been sitting on stairs since I was a wee lad, I'm basically a professional."
"No way, are you kidding? If I go back in without witnessing the actual event of you getting into your brother's vehicle, Rose is going to know, and then she's going to rip out my intestines and strangle me with them! Her words, not mine."
You laugh. "Yeah, I guess she would."
You're both quiet then, and it starts to get awkward. You're about to speak to break the rapidly-approaching-painful silence when he blurts out of nowhere, his words jumbling together, "Canicomevisityouatworktomorrow?"
You blink. "Um. It's kind of a public place? I mean I can't exactly stop you." He's never asked before, so why now?
"Well, yeah, I know that! I mean, like. Would you... mind? If I showed up? I know I'm kind of an idiot and I totally get it if you think I'm annoying and stuff, I don't want to bother you, if. Uhh. You don't--" John seems to run out of words at this point, his shoulders hunched, and he shuffles his feet and looks up at you through his eyelashes a little.
How the fuck are you supposed to say no to that? Damn cheat. This kid's face should be straight up illegal.
"You askin' me on a date, Egbert?" You say, just to tease him. The response is explosive, and a little bit precious. No, wait, you take that last part back.
"What?? No, I. What? No! I didn't-- not to say that you're not-- I mean wow, what am I even--? Gosh no, I just. Want to be friends! You know? Bros, and stuff! I just want to like. Get to know you better! As bros!! That's all, I swear!"
Wow, okay, you can take a hint, jesus. Note to self, completely not interested. You admit you're a little disappointed (fucking heartbroken), but it's probably better this way. If you're honest, you could definitely use some friends right now. You're kind of relieved he wants even that much, you were a total ass to him prior to today, after all.
"Relax, it was a joke. You can come whenever, you're not bothering me. I'll try to, uh. Not swear at you so much."
That must have been the right answer, because John's face lights up like a Christmas tree. A really blue Christmas tree, late at night, in the middle of the forest, with a huge-ass fucking disco flashy-as-fuck angel on top. You think there might also be sequins involved.
"Cool!" John says, and he's actually jumping up and down a little in excitement, is he twelve? He's still smiling as you hear a familiar engine, and your brother's fucking ironic as shit bright orange car pulls up in front of the building. The thing has the same design as the tattoo on his shoulder painted across the hood. So. Fucking. Ironic.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Dave!" John calls with a last wave, completely ignoring the insane levels of irony your brother's car embodies, and you nod back at him as you slide into the passenger's seat and turn to your brother.
"Holy shit, Bro, that was actually almost ten minutes. Color me fuckin' stunned."
"What the fuck kind of greeting is that, little man? I said ten minutes, I meant ten minutes, give me some cred. Was that your date? He's already bringin' you back to his place, eh?"
"Holy fuck, Bro, that is not even close to what today was. It was not a date, it was a fucking group endeavor. Shit was as platonic as it gets."
"Do I detect a hint of resentment, by which I mean a huge heaping unrequited mancrush stomped unceremoniously into dust before it even had a chance at life?"
"Fucking-- no, Dirk, I went to get food with some people. There are no crushes involved, except for one that he made up. With a girl."
"Oh damn, you have a thing for a bro without a gaydar? Shit, he's not straight, is he?" Your guts squirm uncomfortably as Dirk hits way too close to home, and you give them a firm shut the fuck up, you do not get a say in this.
"Dirk, we are so not discussing it--"
"Aw fuck, man, them's the pits. I feel ya, dude."
You have to stop and reel a little at the actual unironic sympathy you seem to be receiving from your Bro. You can't help the look you give him, all what-are-you-on and zero gratitude because you are a suspicious motherfucker and Dirk doesn't do things if they don't suit his purposes.
"Hey, c'mon, I've been there. It's the worst. I'm not a complete douche, you know."
"Yeah, you kind of are."
"Hey!" He says, scandalized, and gives your hair a fond tousle, which you know you've told him on countless occasions that you despise with a passion. "Touche. But seriously, though. You need to talk or whatever, I'm here. 'Cause I get it. Really damn well."
You look sidelong at him, and he glances away from the road for a moment to look at you earnestly, making you feel instantly bad for doubting him. You forgot he had actual straightforward, non-robotic feelings. Apparently you can't do anything right today, at all.
"Thanks," you mumble quietly to your shoes, and he just chuckles and musses up your hair one last time without saying anything. The rest of the short drive is quiet, but comfortable, and you pass out as soon as your body touches down in mattressland.
