Chapter Text
Holy hell.
Dave finally managed to save up over thousands of dollars over the course of the year from busting his ass at a job he got last June. He busted his ass every single day at the restaurant, since he somehow managed to work at one of the really fancy-ass, sophisticated places in Austin. There were quite a few, but he (and by “he”, he really meant his older brother) had connections to one of the best. The wages were generous, but the work was awfully boring. All these upscale people came in that didn’t know jack, shit, or squat about culture or anything that mattered had superficial conversations about their businesses, dresses, money, and other nonsense that Dave lost track of. These people were nothing but dry toast that came fresh out of a porcelain toaster, with no jam or honey or salmon or anything. Just dry and plain and, if he wanted to get graphic, unbelievably crusty. Nonetheless, Dave was an excellent waiter and did his best to pretend that he enjoyed their company. He even went as far as to add a dash of his spicy humor to the bland salad that was the restaurant and its workers. Even though he couldn’t have any graduation parties because the damn place called him in, even just the day after he graduated high school. He was so glad he could get a break from there. Honestly, fuck that place.
Throughout the year of working there, Dave saved up all the money for a trip he was planning with his best long-distance friend, John. The two had been chatting it up for a good five years now, and he came to know John like a brother. Throughout the course of those years, their original duet of friendship evolved into a quartet with Jade and Rose, and their bond was a barbershop quartet hitting the high notes of soprano nerdery, shenanigans, and overall friendship. Dave adored the crew with all of his heart, and it was prevalent that they all felt the same towards each other. At one time, he had a small infatuation with Jade, but it simply passed over. Especially since Rose (the little shit) did some successful digging in the deep, fertile soil of her background to find the treasure chest that held the information of her and Dave actually being second cousins. Months later, the same was revealed about Jade and John (except they were first cousins), but who was really surprised? The two definitely looked alike, as Dave somewhat resembled Rose. Except he was the better looking one, of course. If the lovely Tyra Banks herself had to pick between the two, she would stare into the eyes of Rose with her usual fierceness and a hint of guilt as she would hold up a perfect photo of Dave’s modeling – he would be the next top model. It was him.
Ah, but as usual, his mind digressed as he waited at the Seattle airport baggage claim, waiting impatiently for his two weeks’ worth of luggage. Dave packed everything and the kitchen sink. Well, he would have for the sake of keeping his shitty humor up, but Bro insisted that the sink stay at the house for shenanigans of his own. Curse you, Dirk. He checked his smartphone various times to check for any texts from John, or hopefully, any of his friends, but his phone was devoid of messages. What a fucking buzzkill. Behind his sunglasses, Dave’s eyes averted to the electronic doors where a little family stood. His eyes widened in disbelief, but he couldn’t allow himself to react. Not yet. In the doorway was the beanpole donned with square glasses and a pretty average outfit. His t-shirt read “I Hate Ghostbusters.” Heh, Dave felt a smile tug on his face. His ironic humor was spreading across the nation. The young man made eye contact with Dave and nearly stumbled over his own feet while running to meet him.
“Dave!” John called out, before finally being close enough to hug him. Ah yes, the bro hug. An ultimate sign of sentiment between two grown ass teenagers. Despite being eighteen, Dave was certain that his mind was still in the twelve-year-old state. But no matter, this moment needed to be special. It was the first meeting between he and John in person. Damn, this kid was thin. Puberty must have stretched the kid out.
“John,” he greeted before pulling away with a genuine smile. John looked Dave over with a studious expression before snickering.
“You look like a fucking linebacker,” John commented, giving Dave’s shoulder a small punch. Dave shrugged nonchalantly, although flattered that John pointed out that he was nothing short of the purest and manliest essence of manliness.
“I’m from Texas, what the hell did you expect. And I’m not that bulky. I just got thicker genes, thicker roots. I am a strong-ass tree in the Amazonian forest; unbreakable and impenetrable to the elements. Powerful, dominant, large – I am the motherfucking king tree, ornamented with the greatest and most colorful leaves in the goddamn forest. And you, John, are an insignificant and delicate stick on the forest floor, always easy to break, always susceptible to the slightest breeze, and will forever live in the shadow of my overpowering greatness, size, and presence.”
John eyed Dave with a completely weirded out expression. “You really don’t hold back, do you?”
“No sir.”
“John, is this your friend Dave? Is this the famous Dave Strider I always hear you yakking about around the house?” a smaller, far more feminine voice asked. Dave’s ears tuned in to the fine vocals and sounds. Always being a musically inclined person, his ears were weak at the sound of anything pleasant. And this – whoever it was – honed the sweetest sounds that the planet could offer, let alone Seattle. John looked back at the two other Egberts approaching the friends. Dave had seen John’s dad before; his nose game was on point as usual. But… the girl with him. Who in the hell was that? She did resemble John a bit, so Dave assumed this must have been Jane, the sweet-but-just-as-pranksty older sister of John. In the brilliant words of humanity’s queen, Beyoncé: goddamn, goddamn, goddamn. His eyes studied her, luckily for Dave, their gaze was concealed by his sunglasses. Hah, she wouldn’t notice a damn thing. Lucky him.
Jane was far shorter than John, couldn’t be anything above five three. And that thick, black hair sported a retro ‘do that probably hasn’t been seen anywhere since 1964. Speaking of thick, Dave eye’s unashamedly surveyed the rest of her body. More curves than any highway he’s ever driven on, that’s for sure. But if her body was a highway, he damn well knew he’d take a sweet ride on those hills, curves, and detours for the days. John snapped fingers in front of Dave’s face, and he blinked back into the corporeal world. Right, John. Haha, Dave almost forgot about John.
“Dave, this is my older sister Jane,” he introduced while resting his arm on the top of her head as an armrest. Her perfect, soft face bore a snarl, and she nudged John away. It was comical how much taller he and John were than Jane. Poor thing must be mistaken as the younger sibling all the time.
“How do you do, miss,” Dave said, taking her hand and bending down to kiss it. He briefly made eye contact with her and noticed a small, pink tint on her softened expression. Oh god, those eyes. Those blue eyes could not have been real. No way. Dave snapped back up, trying to keep his composure. John swatted at Dave’s hand.
“Ew! Dave, don’t do that. That’s my sister.”
“Unlike you, John, I was raised to be the most gentlemanliest gentleman in the whole damn United States. And from a message by the great Barack Obama himself, I have been under protocol to treat ladies as serious business. Shit so serious like the Black Death man, but somebody has got to tend to the hand-kissing needs of the ladies. It’s a dying business, but I am monopolizing that shit harder than Rockefeller, Morgan, and Carnegie combined. I am reviving the business with the kiss of life – literally. And some young ladies are in need of my federal services, I have been told. Especially the pretty ones that have to live with a jackoff that has a crush on Nicolas Cage.”
With that, John practically started wrestling Dave to the ground in the middle of the baggage claim, but it was all good-hearted in the end as they became a pile of snorts and laughter, eventually calling out a truce. Dave’s eyes glanced up at Jane from the floor, and she smiled at him. No. That’s not fair. Dimples like those had to be illegal. Beautiful lips like those should be outlawed. Dave groaned, receiving help from John to stand back up. Dave instantly knew that he would be a goner for the entirety of this trip, and possibly the rest of his life. So… yeah. Back to the initial thought.
Holy hell.
The drive to John’s house was relatively short. Living in the suburbs must be nice, Dave assumed, but probably got pretty boring pretty damn quickly. At least John wasn’t Jade, who lived on a nearly uninhibited island. Not a single person around. Still, looking at it from a neutral perspective, there were benefits and… not-benefits. People in general sucked, sure. People are the root of all evil. But... people can also be the root of all fun. For the most part.
Sitting in the back of the sedan with John, he listened to John’s rambling about all the stuff he wanted to do intently. However, Dave did steal a few glances at Jane. She was worth every eye aversion he made. Not once did she ever look unattractive. Again, this wasn’t fair. People like Jane just weren’t fair. “Oh, are you an outdoorsy person, Dave? I know a good hiking trail a few miles north of our neighborhood and its sooooo cooool. I mean, I’m not that into going outside and stuff, but the walk is beautiful, and the trees are just awesome man. You can take some good photographs while we’re there too! I mean, it’s a little conceited of me, but I always take good selfies in there. Impeccable background stuff for pictures if you ask me,” John rambled, going through his phone. Jane turned back and grinned at John.
“Hey, can I come too? I’m off work this week!”
“Sounds good to me,” Dave chimed perhaps a little too quickly. John groaned, massively annoyed by both his sister and Dave.
“She is not coming with us, Dave,” John whispered urgently. Jane attempted to hit John with her hand, waving it wildly in hopes of getting his knee. Dave let out a small chuckle at the sibling scene.
“I think she oughta, you know. I mean, look at her. She really wants to come with us. She took days off her work for you, John.”
“No she didn’t – “
“She did this for you!”
“Dave – “
“You!”
“Fine!”
John raised his arms up defensively, giving up. Dave nodded triumphantly, stealing another look at Jane. She giggled in a voice that sounded as wonderful as the jingliest of bells. He was certain his face was warming up at the sound. Jane then winked at him, giving a thumbs-up. Whoop. There it is. Not only was she the digger of his grave, but she single-handedly kicked him in and started burying him alive, as he suffocated in the death of his remaining dignity. Dave exhaled. Shit. This vacation was meant for hanging out with John, and only that, but Dave was greedy. Dave was a gambler. And he was going to insert cash in the slot machine named Jane, and boy was he hoping for at least a row of cherries. He’d take anything Jane would offer. Even if it’s just a little bit of her company or some shit like that.. He didn’t care. If he was lucky, he’d pull the lever and get a whole row of sevens. Now that would really be something, eh? He always was quite lucky when it came to slots.
The car finally pulled into a cookie-cutter neighborhood straight out of the 1950’s. What the hell? All these houses looked the same. Dave lowered his shades to get a better look at the houses, his mouth gaping. How could these people tell the difference between the houses? No personal flair, with the exception of white fencing and gardens in the front lawns, but even then, they all looked the same. These people don’t love themselves! Dave turned back to John, his glasses still lowered.
“You live in fucking Levittown?” he whispered to John. His friend faced him and shrugged.
“Home is home,” he answered before gasping at Dave. “Dave! Your eyes! They really are red?!” he asked in surprise. Dave could tell with his peripheral vision that Jane was looking back to take a look. Dave exhaled, used to the hackneyed question.
“No John, they are not red. My eyes are actually made of a chemical component called yestheyrefuckingredicide. This component is the same ingredient they use in mood rings, so my eyes change color according to the amount of endorphins being released from my brain. Come on, John, get your shit together. The answer was right in front of you.”
John’s glare was colder than absolute zero. It made Dave want to laugh, actually.
“So what does red mean?” Jane asked with a hint of piqued interest in her voice underneath layers of sarcasm. Dave smirked at her, feeling up to the challenge.
“Means I’m in love,” he answered, nodding confidently. Jane made a slight “ah” sound as she nodded, still acting as if she was interested. Still, she looked amused and somewhat entertained. Dave liked that. As long as he could entertain her.
“And with who are you in love with?” Jane asked, stifling laughter. Dave could catch it from the wiggling of the corner of her lip. Her dimple was visible every few nanoseconds of her holding back a little chuckle. Dave leaned forward against the driver’s seat and stroked Mr. Egbert’s shoulder.
“I’m sorry, but… I’m in love with your father.”
“Don’t touch me, sonny.”
“Okay,” Dave quickly shrank back to his seat, extremely embarrassed. John and Jane erupted with laughter, and that’s what mattered. John’s laugh was kind of dorky, but pretty average for the most part. Just like what he was used to hearing on skype or livestream when they would livestream shitty movies. John always picked, except for the one time he finally allowed Dave to pick. Dave, being an ironic and insufferable prick, picked the Bee Movie. That was a year and a half ago, but ever since, there was a rule that Dave could never pick movies again. Anyway, his mind digressed. Right. Jane’s laugh, oh man. He’d attend a concert for that shit. Get front row tickets to hear her perform it, then get a VIP pass to go backstage, congratulate her for a pants-shittingly good performance before giving her a bouquet of flowers. Or maybe a bouquet of those fruits that were cut into shapes of flowers? That seemed even better. It was sweeter. It suited her giggles and snorts. He even chuckled behind his face’s curtain of red tint.
The car parked on the driveway to one of the houses, and it was as suburban as possible. Obviously a two-story house, windows in the front, nice red door, average mailbox. Not to mention the tree in the front complete with a fucking tire swing. He was going to swing on that so hard.
“No, you are not going to ride the tire swing,” John said before getting out. Dave groaned exasperatedly as he pressed his face against the car door window. “Dammit,” he cursed under his breath. Jane laughed again.
“It’s okay, I can’t ride it either,” she whispered before exiting the car. The extra comment for consolation made Dave feel a little better.
“It’s no mansion, and the neighborhood isn’t that exciting, but it’s home,” John said as he attempted to lift one of Dave’s bags. It was comical to see John try. He probably never worked hard a day in his entire, suburban life. Dave took the luggage with ease, nodding at John.
“Thanks. I guess we best get situated, then.”
Unpacking was actually pretty easy, as both John and Jane were good at staying organized and putting everything in place. It was surprisingly refreshing to be in a room with such little clutter and wires coiling everywhere. Although Dave desperately wanted to bring the turntables, Bro insisted they stay at home since they would be cargo too precious for any airline to take care of. The asshole was probably making beats without him. Curse you, Dirk.
“John, you got a stereo anywhere?” he asked his friend while running fingers through his hair. Some parts were crunchy from the gel, but he ignored it. He liked crunching his hair.
“Yeah, it’s on my desk,” John pointed to the desk where his computer was.
Dave saw the ipod dock, and it was a pretty good size, but… that was not a real stereo. He wanted to blast some music. Make the house shake. Tear it open from the ground – that’s a housequake. Ah, now wasn’t the time for Kanye West references, now was a time for whining.
“The hell kind of stereo is that?” Dave spat, gesturing at it.
“It’s my best one,” John answered in defense.
“Bullshit. Come on, tell me you got a better stereo,” he insisted, laughing bitterly. John’s brows furrowed.
“I’m sorry, but that’s the biggest stereo my dad would let me get.”
“John, we can’t pump juicy beats out of this crap. I’m talkin’ about perfectly ripened oranges right now, and you throw a freakin’ pack dried mangos at my face. This thing got no juice. We will never have our musical thirst quenched. Because this,” Dave pointed at it, “This is a white-people stereo!”
“Dave, you can be such a fuckhead!”
Dave’s face turned into a frown, “You cut me real deep, John. You cut me real deep just now.”
Well, if John’s stereo was a piece of shit, then it was just a straight up P.O.S. Not much he could really do about it. John stormed over, visibly annoyed, and lightly shoved Dave away from the iPod dock. Dave stumbled away, being a melodramatic brat. John just played some mellow alternative music, if Dave had to guess, he’d say Coldplay. Without skipping a beat, Jane swung the door open, giving a cheery smile. Of course, that received Dave’s full attention, but he didn’t want to be creepy about it. He turned to her just seconds later as if he barely noticed her. Brilliant.
“Hey fellas, I made some fresh cookies and goodies if you’re hungry!” she announced, wiggling her own little dance in the doorway. What the hell. That was so cute. Dave looked away quickly, afraid she’d notice him staring. John groaned in annoyance.
“Oh my god, you bake literally every daaaaay,” he complained. “Can’t you cook something else, like Italian or something? You know, like the fusilli we see on those Olive Garden commercials?”
“Maybe if you actually learned to cook for yourself, the kitchen wouldn’t be chock-full of pastries all the time! Seriously John, you can be such a party pooper.”
“Boo, John suuuucks,” Dave piped in with a very small smirk. John threw some pens off of his desk at Dave.
“Don’t give me that, you don’t live with them. Dad and Jane are machines in the kitchen. They output more products than the entire Betty Crocker Corporation itself,” he whined. Dave tsked John before inhaling through his teeth and standing by Jane at the doorway.
“Well, that’s all good, Bitchmeister 3000, I’m gonna take a nice tour around your stocked kitchen with Miss Jane. You can stay in here and continue to rot in the lifeless, inspirited carcass you call a body. C’mon Jane, show me where the party’s at. Let’s stuff our faces with junk and reclaim ourselves as piñatas. It’ll be an existential experience unlike any other.”
“Aw, shoot! Now that sounds like fun! John, don’t be a whiny baby, come be piñatas with us, please?” John glared at the both of them. Now Dave really wanted to laugh. Eventually, John rolled his eyes and made an exasperated sigh before leading the two out of his room. Dave waggled his brows at Jane.
“We’ve weakened him. The world is ours for the taking. All of nature’s creation is our litterbox,” he whispered. Jane laughed endearingly, giving him a playful nudge.
“Let’s keep that between us. Nobody can possibly know about this. You’ll blow our cover,” she whispered to Dave with a mischievous grin. Elated she contributed to his silliness, Dave caught himself smiling back at her.
Jane walked ahead to catch up to John, while Dave prodded behind to examine the decorations of the home. Family pictures were everywhere. Their abundance was almost as plentiful as the Smuppets Dirk left lying around the apartment. He cringed. Right, don’t think about that. Those things are awful – appreciating them from even an ironic perspective was impossible. Dave stopped in front of John’s senior picture and laughed. Obviously, John looked great, the lighting was on point, clothes unnaturally nice for his usual tastes, and it looked like he was sitting by a lake. Psh, wow. He’s such a typical white kid. Dave took a selfie with John’s senior pic in the background, and sent it to both Jade and Rose. They were totally going to get a kick out of how typical John is. Dave took another step before pausing; now finding another senior picture. Jane’s. Checking to see if any of the Egbert/Crockers were around, Dave took another step closer to carefully scrutinize the photograph. This picture was gorgeous in every meaning of the word. Where was she modeling? Was that… a bakery? He smiled, his gaze then moving to her face. Vibrant, rosy, jolly – it looked like she was laughing. Dave practically felt his pursed lips melt into a dopey smile. He was positive he had to ask her to model for him. Luckily, he brought his good camera. From the kitchen, Dave could hear John’s impatience.
“Dave! You lag, hurry up!” John’s voice urged from downstairs. Cursing under his breath, Dave rushed down the stairs, acting aloof as always. In only a matter of nanoseconds, his nose caught a whiff of the nectarously sweet aroma wafting from the kitchen. Oh my god. Ohoho my god. His curiosity, alongside obligations, made him step into the kitchen, where he found a bustling, excited Jane and a disgruntled, pouting John. Teasingly, Dave rustled John’s hair. Around the entire vicinity were cases filled with cakes, pies, cookies, and… damn, cannoli too. The kitchen was a bakery all in itself. The pastel-colored wall alongside lightly colored supplies definitely gave it an aesthetic kind of vibe. Or a bakery vibe. Either way, Dave fell in love with the kitchen. He strolled around, checking out all of Jane and Mr. Egbert’s work on display. A certain pie caught his eye.
“Miss Jane, would you mind elaborating to me the contents of this exhibit in particular? Out of all these displays in this fine museum of baking history, this one appears to have quite a bit of a special kick. You know, like how in Night in the Museum where the Teddy Roosevelt exhibit held a special place in Ben Stiller’s heart? Same shit. This pie is my Robin Williams. I gotta know; what kind of pie is this?”
Intrigued by his question and his technique of delivery, Jane walked over to the pie Dave was eyeing. She looked a little closer, and lifted the glass case before sniffing it. “Ah,” she breathed out. “It’s apple!”
“Jesus fucking Christ. I just got a boner,” Dave said before searching the kitchen for plates. John was fishing around in the fridge and freezer, grabbing ice cream and whipped cream for Dave. What a good sport. Quickly returning to the pie once his plate was set, he handed his plate to Jane. “My body is ready for an oralgasm unlike any other. I’ve traveled internationally to experience this, and finally, my sole purpose in life is within my grasp. I am seconds away from pleasuring my unsatisfied taste buds… and my under active flesh in between my loins,” he added at the end with a lowered voice. Jane turned a little pink, but appeared to just dismissed what he said as just more nonsense. John whacked Dave’s head with a wooden spoon.
“What the great blue fuck, John?!” Dave cursed, holding his head. John threateningly held that spoon out at him.
“Don’t use phallic metaphors around my sister! That’s so gross, and – and look. You embarrassed her. Nice going.”
Jane handed Dave his slice of pie after decorating it in the works of whipped cream and ice cream, then patted John’s face. “John please, I’ve heard much worse. It’s okay. He’s just being a goofball. Anyway, I’m going to head out now. Dad and I need to head back to Crockercorp HQ for some publicity hoo-hah. Take care of your friend, alright? If I come back and I see a single thing touched in my room, I will personally make sure you’re the next main ingredient in my work,” she threatened him, her pointed finger in his face. John laughed and rolled his eyes. Staying out of their small altercation, Dave sheepishly started on his pie. His eyes widened at the initial taste. Holy crap. This wasn’t pie, this was the flesh of Jesus Christ.
Before Jane walked out, Dave put his hand on the top of her head. “Hold it, Shorty,” he requested. Jane turned to him, looking slightly exasperated. Dave’s expression remained firm. He held up the pie to her face. Jane almost seemed concerned. Yeah, as if her perfect little hands would make anything less than perfect.
“Something wrong with your pie, dear?” Fuck, pet names? How cute was she? This is just fucking ridiculous. She needed to be stopped.
“The only thing fucking wrong with this pie is that it is not deemed the culinary masterpiece of 2014. How in the hell did you make this? Who did you kill and sacrifice to the dark lord Satan or Steven Buscemi for this kind of talent, huh?”
“Paula Deen,” Jane answered with a dryly amused face. After tapping his face with her palm, and kissing John on the cheek, she hurried out. “Bye boys! Have fun!”
“Finally, we got the house to ourselves! Woo!” John cheered pulling out multiple bags of junk food from the pantry. Dave continued eating the pie, raising a brow at John.
“So, how are we gonna tear the place up?” Dave asked, as if his mind was solely focused on hanging out with John. As if. He was going to live in a household with the babest babe to ever babe for two weeks. The thought couldn’t help but make Dave nervous. Was she going to take him seriously, or just brush him off as “John’s best friend” and deem him forbidden territory? Did she even find him attractive? Shit, this romancing deal was tough. A lot more work and strain than the job he had back in Houston. Following John out of the kitchen, he knew he was irreversibly and undeniably in the deepest pile of shit ever created.
And he’d be stuck in that shit for two weeks.