Chapter Text
People, you've noticed, always misunderstand things. It was never really surprising when someone said or had even worked up the courage to ask you about something they had assumed. They didn't typically do the second, though, and whenever they did, they either seemed too flustered or too blunt, and both were annoying. Some days you were used to it and some days they were so unexpected that you were left pondering what they said hours, maybe even a day or two after they had brought it up. Either way, they'd always been personal and honestly made you ponder it as well. It was a common enough question, really, one that came as no surprise, and, honestly, you couldn't blame them for being interested about it. Some were even used to it by now. Personally, it was something you even wondered yourself.
You couldn't blame them for being curious, though. You supposed it was a legitimate question, one you, in all honesty, wouldn't mind saying yes to. People came up to you all the time, in or out of school, and you were sure they'd asked Dave, too. They weren't rude or belittling or even the least bit terrible, just honestly wondering. You'd always have to say no. And Dave said no, too, because you were only friends and you weren't dating. And still, even after answering the question, people continue asking you about it. Were you dating Dave? Was he dating you? Were you an item?
It wasn't their fault for asking, and you couldn't blame them. It was something you'd even discussed with Dave, the way you interact with each other; the two of you were far more intimate than others were, even to the point of being blatantly affectionate. You didn't have any problem with it, and neither did Dave, and the two of you had dropped it off at that. It was never an issue between the both of you. You had even gone so far as saying you wouldn't like it if the two of you stopped acting the way you did, and, to your relief, he agreed. So it remained the same as it always had, and people at school had no idea if you were dating or not because of it. Honestly, if you were in their spots, you would question it, too. But, still...why did they think you were dating? It couldn't have been so noticeable.
But...looking on it now...maybe it was noticeable.
Maybe it was because you sometimes held his hand. You liked doing it; his hands were rough and calloused but surprisingly gentle, and they were always warm and his fingers closed around yours, confident and reassuring, as soon as you reached for them. Then again, it might have been because you sat on his lap occasionally and shared food with him. He never objected to it, anyway. Dave had even offered his lap to you more than once, and rested his chin on your shoulder as the two of you conversed with your friends at lunch. And besides, you'd feed him anyway because he liked being babied, even if he'd never admit to it.
You liked it whenever Dave was physically affectionate with you, even if the two of you weren't in a relationship.
Maybe it was because of the way you interacted.
He was a quiet person, and typically shied away from touching anyone, a fact that's amused you for years, considering he's so rowdy with the way he speaks. But he would reach out to you occasionally, and gently wrap his pinkie around yours or card his fingers through your hair, but those moments were rare and always fleeting. They were brief, yes, but you liked them, and you had a feeling he did, too, even if he never admitted it. He was always too embarrassed to keep it going long, and it rarely lasted more than a few seconds. Not that you minded, of course; Dave went at his own pace, and you yours. He was, however, usually okay with you doing things, even letting you kiss his cheek more than once as a joke.
So you didn't blame people for asking things along the lines of you and Dave being in a relationship.
Honestly, you wouldn't really...mind it. Nothing much would change between the two of you, anyway. Kisses would be planted on lips and fingers would be laced and palms would be pressed together and hugs would last longer. Nothing else would be any different, and, honestly, you're okay with that. Dating Dave would be comfortable, in your eyes. It would be...different at first, certainly, and it would take a bit of time to get used to, but you don't think you'd mind it. Of course, if someone had asked you if you'd even consider Dave as a significant other years ago, you probably would have laughed and shook your head. But now, seeing as your relationship had grown over the years and was given time to develop, you wouldn't deny that you'd become increasingly aware of his looks and relationship status. Or lack thereof, with the latter, technically speaking. And you'd rather him remain single or perhaps pursue something more with you rather than someone else.
And so, here you are, seated (or rather laying) with your best friend, blanket curled over the both of you on the couch as you watch a movie. Lady and The Tramp, to be more specific, because you know Dave loves it, even if he denies it. Or, you were watching a movie, until the ever occurring moment rolled around where somehow one of you initiates typical late night Bro Cuddles, and his legs are entangled hopelessly with yours. His arms are draped lazily around your waist and you're pressed up against each other, his head on your shoulder and it feels right. His fingers are gently running through your hair and he thinks you can't feel it but you can and, oh, there goes your heart again, fluttering like a bird in a birdcage. You know he doesn't notice its frantic beats, and part of you is grateful of that. He doesn't seem to be watching the movie, and he nuzzles into your neck just slightly, and you know he's embarrassed about it and doesn't want you to notice because being affectionate is still a thing he's mortified of.
You would usually be returning his efforts with great enthusiasm, seeing as any chance to be moment to Dave is a good moment, but you don't. You lay there and frown, arms wrapped around him, and he seems to notice that your mind is somewhere else after he pushes his face into the crook of your neck with no response. He shifts just slightly, tilting his head up to look at you and he lets out a soft sigh to gain your attention. It works, and you glance down at him and offer him a smile.
"What's your deal?" He mutters, shifting back to lean his head on your shoulder again. His voice is soft and quiet, as it usually is whenever it's a soft and quiet mood. It's a nice voice, different from the other one he usually uses. It's not sassy or defensive or sarcastic or rude, it's just...Dave. He's always had a soft voice, and it was always nice to hear in intimate moments like this.
"What?" You reply, squeezing his midsection briefly to let him know you're listening as you turn to the screen of the television.
"You're pretty fucking disconnected," he says, fingers trailing methodically through your hair. The pressure he adds lets you know by now he's forgotten he's doing it, seeing as he usually makes sure his touch is light. You've never told him you can feel him do it. "What, I'm not interesting enough to live up to your standards, Egbert? You're breaking my heart, here."
You laugh quietly, a habit you'd had for years whenever watching a movie. It never mattered where you were; whenever a movie was playing, you were quiet for fear of disturbing other people. Old habits were hard to break, you supposed. "I'm fine, dude."
You can feel his frown against your shoulder, even though the cotton of your shirt. He draws back only slightly, turning his face to the television screen. You glance down at him and can see the colors and images flicker in those dumb sunglasses he always wears. He's quiet for a moment and you want to kiss him. You bite your lip instead, eyebrows drawing together in thought about, yet again, questions. "Are we dating?" You ask before you can even think about what you're saying. You regret the words almost immediately.
His hand freezes in your hair.