Chapter Text
Your name is Dave Strider, and your entire family is a bunch of rotten, judgmental, fussy meddlers.
This has always been a problem for you, but it has only recently become an actual pressing issue that you have to confront. Rose has noticed your weird beard, and has been pestering you about it for a couple of months. Dirk, similarly, has been making fun of you for staying cooped up in your apartment all the time. Honestly, fuck him, because sbahj comics don’t make themselves, and those nasty little MSpaint spawned disasters are your livelihood.
Well, actually, they sort of do. At this point you just re-use shitty sprites at ever increasing levels of JPG compression, but the point stands. You actually have to vomit up that nonsense at least once a week, or you can't pay rent.
You begin to suspect that Dirk and Rose have been chatting behind your back when they corner you on pesterchum and demand to know “how things have been going,” which is Strilonde code for, “how pathetic is your life right now and how much energy can I leech from your misfortune.”
Not much, really. You’re doing okay, as far as art school dropouts go. Your apartment is dirty and you’ve gained a little weight and maybe your skin is a bit blotchy compared to the way it used to be, but...who are you fucking kidding, yesterday you fell asleep at 10 pm after two cans of lukewarm Bud Light. Your life isn’t going how you want it to go.
But that isn’t your fault. If anything, Rose and Dirk are being dicks by digging up all your dirty laundry like a pair of laundry starved vultures.
In a fit of defensive panic, wherein you tried with increasingly pathetic maneuvers to overcompensate, you sort of accidentally implied that you’re dating someone. Naturally, both laundry starved vultures were immediately upon you like white on rice on a paper plate in a snowstorm. Not one to back down, you acted like you had intended to let that slip completely because, of course, it was true.
You have’t dated anyone in over two years. You’re pretty sure you don’t have more than three friends, and two of those three friends live across the globe. Jade is off galloping through some jungle somewhere, and Karkat is...doing whatever he does, which you think is just yelling in youtube videos and showering in cash ponied up by 14 year olds with immature senses of humor. You will never admit that he’s funny. Ever.
That left one friend, but that friend was a last resort. Honestly, you had considered paying a lady of the night to pretend to date you before you considered this guy.
John Egbert.
You haven’t known John for a very long time, just a little over a year with irregular contact. You’re friends, sure, and you think you could grow to be best friends, maybe...but right now he’s an internet acquaintance, and asking him would be crossing some major boundaries. Plus, the likelihood of him living close enough to your place to pretend to date you is one in a million.
Brushing all this off wasn’t too hard. As long as Dirk and Rose didn’t press for details, you could just keep up the facade for a couple of months and then pretend to be broken up with. You’re pretty sure if you broke up with your imaginary date, they’d see through you. Or maybe they’d realize you’d know that? Fuck, they’re hard to predict. There is no right answer, you’re gonna get fucked no matter what.
That is, until two weeks later, when Dirk drops the news that he and Rose are coming over for Christmas. Which is in...eight days.
Right. Cool. Okay. Man, you let this go on for two long. Two weeks of pretending to be dating someone to save your pride isn’t going to fly with them. They’re going to destroy you over this. You are going to fucking die.
So, your last resort becomes your first resort.
TG: john weve known each other for a long time now
TG: ive been thinking
EB: dave you woke me up.
TG; its 2pm john you should be awake by now jesus
TG: anyway i have a proposition for you
TG: an offer you cant refuse
EB: im pretty sure i can refuse it!
TG: look shut up alright this is going to take some explaining for me to not sound like im trying desperately to get in your pants
EB: this promises to be funny.
TG: okay uh
TG: so
TG: fuck theres no way for me to say this without sounding pathetic
TG: i have to sell myself to you like im advertising some kind of product but theres no angle or lighting that will make this appealing to you so i just gotta come out and say it
EB: dave please.
TG: right okay
TG: fake date me
EB: what?
EB: dave did you just proposition me?
TG: no dicknut its not real dating its fake dating get with the program
TG: i need someone to pretend to be in love with me for three days while my family is in town
TG: i figured id throw your lonely ass a bone
TG: youre welcome
EB: um! im not exactly swooning here!
TG; look please just pretend to be dating me so my brother will stop talking about how lonely and pathetic my beard makes me look
TG: rose is a nice nerd but dirk is a mean nerd john he doesnt pull any punches when hes clobbering the fuck out of my self esteem
TG: i love this beard and im not shaving it off for him
EB: oh man this is so good.
EB: mmmm! this is so good!!!
EB: i love this!
TG: yeah i knew you would you sick fuck
EB: the great dave strider. prostrate before me.
TG: prostate before you if you want just do me this one solid
EB: gross! no need to do that.
EB: besides i could live in guam or something for all you know.
EB: i could also just say no!
TG: do you live in guam
EB: hehe maybe!
EB: the point is.
EB: what is in it for me?
TG: oh so thats how its gonna be
TG: i dont know what do you want
TG: and before you ask my hot body is off the table
EB: i wouldnt want it on the table to be honest!
EB: okay.
EB: 200 bucks.
TG: what are you fucking serious
TG: i dont even know what you look like you could be some 2/10 asshole with bad table manners no way am i coughing up 200 bucks for that youd just bust up my sibling street cred even worse than it already is
EB: 200 bucks or nothing.
TG: dont you live in guam or something
EB: nope! i live less than ten miles from your apartment.
TG: wait
TG: what
EB: i sent you a christmas present last year i know where you live!
EB: didnt you check the return address?
TG: i mean not really
TG: i didnt think youd be that close
EB: well i am.
EB: so.
EB: 200 bucks.
EB: daddy needs a new 3ds.
TG: youre an animal
EB: im business savvy!
EB: supply and demand dave.
TG: youre seriously going to make me do this
TG; youre going to give yourself to me
TG: for money
EB: im not a saint.
EB: is it a deal or not?
TG: maybe i dont know
TG: its a deal if we video call right now
EB: what!
TG: gotta scope out the meat egbert
TG: i need to check you out really fucking thoroughly before my brother ever lays eyes on you
EB: oh fuck you dave you dont even have a choice at this point!
EB: you would not be talking to me right now if you had a choice.
TG: this is a hard line in the sand im drawing here egbert
TG: video call or no 3ds for your extorting ass
EB: sigh!
EB: okay fine but give me a second im in my underwear.
TG: actually no thats better
EB: your brother doesnt have to see me nude and you can suffer the same fate.
TG: you are such a prude honestly
EB: every time you insult me im going to tack on another ten bucks.
TG: alright fine jesus ill zip my lip
EB: great.
After about ten minutes of waiting, you answer the call.
“Hello?” a voice says to you. It’s high pitched and raspy, like someone voicing a cartoon character. You are briefly completely stunned by it. You have never heard anyone with a voice that silly before in your life.
Then the video clears up a bit, and a young man standing in his room is revealed to you. “Dave? Is that you?”
Oh my God, he is so fucking tiny.
It’s absurd how tiny he is. He’s so small. You have to press your hand up to your mouth to keep a laugh from bubbling out of your pokerface because he is just...oh my god, he’s so fucking small! You have literally seen girl scouts his size.
You can’t hold it back. You lean back in your chair and wail out a reluctant laugh through your hand, kicking your feet helplessly. This is just...this is too good. Fate as smiled down upon you this day.
“Dave, oh my god, shut up!” his crappy baby voice shouts at you. Tears are coming out of your eyes because he sounds like a parakeet under duress. You are writhing in your computer chair so hard that it’s squeaking underneath you. You could have imagined no better outcome.
“Yeah, well, your shirt is stupid and your dick is tiny!” he shouts, putting up both of his tiny middle fingers at you.
“You’re a grown man,” you wheeze. “You are twenty four years old!”
“Shut up!
“You look and sound like a loony toon!”
“Your mom looks like a loony toon!”
You are almost screaming. That’s the level of how funny this is to you. Somehow you thought he’d be...some huge tall nerd. But no, he’s a pint sized nerd. Barely a pint. More like a cup.
“Three hundred bucks!” he shouts. You reign in your laughter out of economic coercion.
“No, no, John, baby, I’m sorry…” you wheeze, leaning on your desk, eyes watering so you have to wipe them under your shades. “Don’t bankrupt me, please.”
“Three hundred bucks, you jerk!” he says, resolute and frowning, pointing both of his middle fingers at you.
He’s so small. His hair is short and black and wild, and his glasses are about as huge and square as you would’ve hoped. The bottoms of the glasses are rimless, but the tops have a heavy black border on them. They looks like old man glasses or some shit. It seems like he has a bunch of tattoos on his arms, but its hard to tell with the video being as low quality as it is.
“You're like a smurf,” you say, rather quietly, enamored with how silly he looks.
“A three hundred dollar smurf,” he grumbles, flushed. He’s wearing a black tank top and a pair of briefs. Huh, you guess he didn’t...put on pants, just a shirt. Keeping it classy.
You put your head in your hands as a very somber realization spills over you like a bucker of ice water. You are going to have to pay this very smurf 300 dollars to pretend to date you. You do not have a choice but to do that. In addition, you are going to have to coach him, and then introduce him to your family. They are never, ever, ever going to let you live this down. You hyped him up so much, and he is going to disappoint so hard. A feeble little giggle escapes you.
"I’m so fucked,” you grumble.
“Yeah you are. Who shit talks the guy they're paying to date them?”
“How tall are you?”
"That’s none of your business!” he says.
“John, c’mon, we’re friends-”
“I’m 5’4.”
“-ohhhh my god, holy shit, how’s life in munchkin land-”
“Dave! Stop!”
“I mean I’m not huge, but I'm statistically average, you know? Like, you really got the short end of the biological stick here, dude, sorry to say…”
“Okay, mister statistically average,” he says, words accompanied by massive air quotes, “are we doing this or not? Because at this point I have half a mind to leave you flapping in the breeze!”
“You wouldn’t ditch me like that, would you man? C’mon, we’re friends!”
“We’re about to be enemies,” he says, very flatly and in that voice of his, and you choke back a laugh.
“Okay, yeah, I get it. I’ll stop being a dick.”
“Thank you,” John says, sighing and pulling up his computer chair. He sits down in it and adjusts his webcam. Man, are his eyes that blue or is it the screen? You can’t tell. He bites his lip with his big crooked teeth.
“Okay, so, I guess you pass onto round 2, and then round 3, and then the finals, and then you win, because there are no other contestants and I’m desperate,” you say, leaning back and crossing your arms. This isn’t ideal, but at least it’s something. Rose is going to notice that he’s not to total hottie you described when you were playing up your fictional relationship with him like you were newlyweds, but he’ll do.
He’s...realistic, you guess?
“Wow, what an honor,” he says, flatly, in his ridiculous voice, and you almost crack up. The way he talks is funny, and you don’t just mean his voice, but...his delivery. He’s very animated, so when he comes off as really dry it’s like watching a heart monitor flatline. It’s that kind of sudden, dramatic change.
“It is. Do you have any idea-”
“How many people have crawled up your dick only to reach a point in the atmosphere where the air was too thin to breathe, pass out, and fall to the deaths? Dave, shut up.”
You snort. “Okay, yeah, sorry.”
Suddenly, you feel a bit assuaged. At least hanging out with John will be fun, even if you get majorly humiliated in front of your judgmental kin.
Nevermind, that’s still stressing you the fuck out, but at least, you know, one of the cards turned out to be in your favor. You like John more than most strangers.
“So, my paypal is-” he starts. You crack up.
“Oh, that fast, huh?”
He gives you a sly look over the top of his glasses.
"Okay, okay. Tell me your paypal.”
He does. You write it down.
“If you fucking scam me for 300 bucks and then ditch me forever I’m going to hunt you down and shit in your mouth while you sleep,” you say as you complete the paypal transaction.
“I’m not that much of a jerk, Dave, jeez!” he says, as he checks to make sure you sent him to right amount of cash with a skeptical look on his face.
Seriously?
“Okay, done...and done,” he says, pretending to dust off his hands. “We’re good. So, I guess it’s a little late for me to ask, but what exactly does this dating nonsense entail beyond the usual handholding and stuff?”
“Well,” you start, furrowing your brows. Honestly, you hadn’t really thought that far ahead. Mostly there was just a lot of blind panic. Now comes the hard part.
Training John.
“You have to spend three days at my apartment. Activities include, but are not limited to, sharing a living space with me, learning a few things about me, kissing my cheek or holding my hand, and, uh…” you struggle with this one. “Maybe sharing a bed? But only because Dirk and Rose are probably going to share the foldout couch.”
John appears to be mulling it over. “Do we have to share a bed? I mean, we’ve never met in person, so I don’t know...”
“It’s okay if you don’t want to,” you amend, hurriedly. “Like, I know this is weird and I’m just an internet pal who you suddenly have to act way way overly chummy with, but...yeah. Y’know, boundaries are boundaries. As long as you’re a believable boyfriend, it’s all good.”
John nods solemnly.
“Do you want me to come over and practice or something?” he asks. “I mean, I’ve never even seen your apartment, and if I show up and I don’t know anything about the place where you live despite living only a few miles away, it might look fishy.”
“This is going to look fake as hell no matter how we spin it, but yeah. Might as well go all the way.”
“In the meantime, before I make good on earning those 300 dollars,” he says, leaning back in his chair smugly while your wallet cries for help, “how about a good ol’ round of 20 questions? Basic stuff, so I don’t get caught not knowing your favorite flavor of oatmeal or something.”
“I know a lot about you, I think,” you say, rubbing your chin.
“You don’t know my Dad’s name, or anything about my past relationships. Stuff like that is stuff you’d know about someone you were dating!”
Ugh, fuck, he’s right. He’s super annoyingly right about this. You’re going to have to learn about more than just his interests and his sense of humor. You’re going to have to get deep with this guy. You are going to have to Get To Know John Egbert.
“I should also fill you in on my family,” you grumble, “because they’re a bunch of fucking assholes and I don’t want them to grill anything out of you.”
John snorts. “You talk about them like they’re FBI agents or something!”
“More like invasive, crooning, elderly relatives who wont stop asking about my marital status and ideas on having children.”
“Oh, man, That’s my Dad to a T,” John says, sighing exasperatedly. “He keeps sending me these grammatically correct emails gently asking me how I’m doing in my search for a job,” he rambles, "and it’s like, Dad, I have a job. I literally have a job, you just don’t think it’s a real job-”
“You have a job?”
“Wh-Yes! I have a job!” John says, looking offended and crossing his tattoo littered arms. “I’m...well, technically I’m a lot of things,” he grumbles, looking away. “Alright, maybe the job is…look, I was a game art major in college, alright?” he grouses. “I make games!”
You’re a little shocked.
“Like...video games?”
“Yeah, dingdong! I mean, shitty ones, but it’s hard to make anything good with five whole people working on an entire project,” he sighs. “I mean if it’s indie stuff it’s not a huge deal, but the last big project I worked on only had 5 environment artists. There wasn’t anything in that shitty game I didn’t touch. I almost severed several friendships over that thing. it was bananas!”
“So...what do you do specifically?”
"Oh, a little of this, a little of that,” he says, “I mean, I could explain it all to you, I guess, but I’m supposed to be an environment artist or a lighting artist. I get thrown into tons of other stuff, though."
“Shit, dude,” you say, "I just make webcomics.”
“Don’t feel bad,” he says. “I sort of graduated super early because I was really good at this stuff. People my age don’t usually have jobs like the jobs I’ve had.” he smiles. “Besides, webcomics are cool.”
“Thanks,” you say. “I’m...pretty cool.”
Wow, that was some of the nerdiest shit that has ever come out of your mouth. Are you twelve or what?”
John snorts. “Yeah, only cool people have to insist on their own coolness 24/7.”
“Okay, so, twenty questions or whatever. Lets do this,” you say, slapping your hands together. “Dad’s name?”
“James. Dad’s name?”
You shake your had. “No Dad, just Bro. His name was Bro, the best thing you can do is not ask questions,” you say.
The rest of the evening goes like that. You learn a lot of things about John, but mostly just that his sense of humor is pretty great, and that you think he’s way funnier than you should. You don’t know if thinking he’s funny is ironic or not, but you like to imagine that it is. His tattoos seem to be mostly cliche nerd shit, and as he shows them to you, you sort of forget this is a payed obligation rather than him just talking to you like a friend.
Which is what he is. He’s your friend. Your tiny, cool friend.
Well, maybe not cool in the way that you’re cool, but in the way that really counts. He’s a good guy. When he talks about bad things he’s done, it’s all about him accidentally cursing at someone in a fit of road rage form inside his car, or failing to open a door for someone. Being nice comes naturally to him.
You also learn tons of less relevant stuff about him that would be forgettable if he weren’t so good at telling stories. You learn that he used to date a girl because they went to juvy together, and that he used to high five his Dad during certain parts of Con Air, which he now insists is his least favorite movie of all time. He talks about his child self like he was the worst human ever ever, despite currently being the worst human ever, and mentions that the girl he dated from juvy slashed his Dad’s tires when they broke up a year ago.
You leave the conversation slightly more relaxed. You’re still anticipating the humiliation when you introduce him to Dirk and Rose and they rip him apart from head to toe, or, god forbid, find out you’re faking, but...at least if you get eviscerated, he’ll be there, and you can laugh about it like bros in stead of mourning the loss of your dignity by yourself. At least you’ll have a friend. God knows you’ve been alone in this apartment for a very, very long time.