Your name is John Egbert and there's a lot you know about your best friend.
His name is Dave Strider and he stands at 5'7", 4 inches shorter than you and a hell of a lot scrawnier, usually drowning in hoodies and skinny jeans fitting him pretty loosely. His thick curly hair is short and bleached, almost white, contrasting with his dark skin. He has several piercings, several on his face and others in more intimate places, and he's even convinced you to get a piercing. Or two.
He collects dead things (gross), does photography (a lot of them being selfsies), listens to 'underground' bands, wears the shades you regret giving him 24/7, explains his reasoning for doing things as 'being ironic', and despite his cool kid act, manages to be socially awkward and rambles on and on. He can rap pretty well, despite you making fun of how lame his rapping is and he sucks at sports, playing and understanding them. His wardrobe sucks and his reason for it is because of 'irony' of course, having an assortment of ugly sweaters and scarves and tshirts with galaxy prints on them. He makes a stupid face when he's mad, furrowing his eyebrows and even slightly pouting, tensing up his shoulders and glaring before stopping away from whatever made him pissed.
He thinks Nic Cage sucks and still rags on you for ever liking the guy, but has equally shitty taste in movies. He has even shittier taste in partners, hooking up with the most obnoxious people you can imagine. Some one nighters, others a little more long term. Not that you can really say anything, seeing as you pick them just as badly as he does and stick with them for even a shorter amount of them.
But there's hardly a time where at least one of you isn't seeing or hooking up with someone, so it's weird when you guys go out for a drink at a almost empty bar late at night and you guys don't talk about whoever you're sleeping with.
It's actually really weird.
You both sit across from each other in the booth with shitty seats. Both of you are quiet, your gaze going from your beer to Dave's face and to the hot new bartender with a great pair of tits and then back to Dave. He looks back at you the second time, breaking the lull in the conversation with his deep chuckle.
He sits up from his slumped, laid back position and takes another big gulp from his second beer before resting his elbows on the table.
"Seeing as we're both in kind of a slump, maybe we should..." He bites his lip, looking like he'll regret if he finishes that sentence, but continues anyways. "Hook up? I mean, I've been thinking about asking you for a while, but I wasn't sure if you were interested at all, hell, I'm still not sure, I'm not even sure if I'M interested. But you know, it's something we can try and if it doesn't work out, it's not like we're gonna stop being best bros..."
He keeps talking and talking and you're surprised you don't spit out the beer in your mouth.
Your name is John Egbert and there's a lot you know about your best friend. But you sure as hell didn't know he'd ever ask you out.
Your name is Dave Strider and you're pretty sure you know everything about your best friend.
His name is John Egbert and despite the many times that you have told him, he insists on keeping the same lame hair cut he's had for years. His eyes are blue despite being Filipino and he wears glasses instead of contacts because without frames, he looks awkward. He dyes his hair black and uses a bunch of hair product and can not grow facial hair, no matter how hard he tries. He's 5'11" and unlike you, he's pretty well built and broad shouldered.
He does magic shows sometimes for extra cash and he still watches shitty movies, despite getting over his big crush on Nic Cage. He doesn't know any other colour than green apparently because his wardrobe has 50 shades of green with black and gray thrown into the mix and every so often you sneak into his apartment and throw out his ugly ass clothes and replace it which thoroughly pisses him off. He still believes in ghosts and the 'paranormal' and sometimes you suspect he might be a closet devil worshiper. You convinced him to get his eyebrow pierced and completely on his own accord, got his nipple pierced too.
Despite what an odd pair you two make, you've been best friends for years. You both told each other when you both got laid and you gossip like high school girls about whoever Rose and Jade are shacking up with and how long they'll last.
Several times you've saved each other from a shitty relationship and hooked each other up with people you thought the other would like, but from the results, both of you are shitty matchmakers.
Which is what led you guys to this, sitting alone at a bar, single and drinking.
Now, both of you are plenty sober so your question wasn't one of drunken stupidity. In fact, you had been thinking about asking Egbert out for a long time.
Not obsessively obviously since you've gotten laid several times in between and had other crushes too.
But John was your best friend and you thought, 'Why not give it a shot?'
He stared at you, probably trying to figure out if you actually drank more than what he originally thought. He looked a bit confused and pondered for a bit before actually answering.
"You sure? I mean, I'm not sure how I feel about dating my best friend."
"Is that a yes or a no Egbert? I don't have all night, I could go ask that babe over there for her number instead."
"Please Dave, she's out of your league. Plus, she has obviously checking me out all night."
You reach over to punch the little shit in the arm while he laughs. You start laughing too. Who was he kidding? She was obviously checking you out.
"I wouldn't mind... We could try, I guess." He says this kind of softly, sounding as unsure as you felt when you asked.
"The worst that can happen is I knock you up, we get married, divorce and then force our sweet little Dana to choose between Mommy and Daddy."
"Dave, come on, you haven't even taken me out for a proper date yet. A girl has certain standards you know." He bats his eyelashes before and feigns an offended look.
"Oh my God John, you lost your virginity in the back of a van with some guy from the football team."
He frowns at you, knitting his eyebrows together and slapping you upside the head.
"At least I didn't PAY to lose my virginity."
"Judge all you want John, that prostitute was fine as hell."
"You're ridiculous."
"Just shut up and kiss me or something. You are a piece of shit when it comes to being romantic. I mean I was the one who had to ask you out. A gentleman should always ask the lady out, preferably by asking her parents and maybe bringing some flowers. But no, you took too long so I had to go ahead and pop the question. Whatever happened to chivalry Jonathan? It really is dead, I mean..."
Your name is Dave Strider and you're pretty sure you know everything about your best friend. Except that he actually would get up, grab your hand and kiss you on the lips, just to get you to shut up.
Your name is John Egbert and there's a lot you know about your best friend.
His name is Dave Strider and he stands at 5'7", 4 inches shorter than you and a hell of a lot scrawnier, usually drowning in hoodies and skinny jeans fitting him pretty loosely. His thick curly hair is short and bleached, almost white, contrasting with his dark skin. He has several piercings, several on his face and others in more intimate places, and he's even convinced you to get a piercing. Or two.
He collects dead things (gross), does photography (a lot of them being selfsies), listens to 'underground' bands, wears the shades you regret giving him 24/7, explains his reasoning for doing things as 'being ironic', and despite his cool kid act, manages to be socially awkward and rambles on and on. He can rap pretty well, despite you making fun of how lame his rapping is and he sucks at sports, playing and understanding them. His wardrobe sucks and his reason for it is because of 'irony' of course, having an assortment of ugly sweaters and scarves and tshirts with galaxy prints on them. He makes a stupid face when he's mad, furrowing his eyebrows and even slightly pouting, tensing up his shoulders and glaring before stopping away from whatever made him pissed.
He thinks Nic Cage sucks and still rags on you for ever liking the guy, but has equally shitty taste in movies. He has even shittier taste in partners, hooking up with the most obnoxious people you can imagine. Some one nighters, others a little more long term. Not that you can really say anything, seeing as you pick them just as badly as he does and stick with them for even a shorter amount of them.
But there's hardly a time where at least one of you isn't seeing or hooking up with someone, so it's weird when you guys go out for a drink at a almost empty bar late at night and you guys don't talk about whoever you're sleeping with.
It's actually really weird.
You both sit across from each other in the booth with shitty seats. Both of you are quiet, your gaze going from your beer to Dave's face and to the hot new bartender with a great pair of tits and then back to Dave. He looks back at you the second time, breaking the lull in the conversation with his deep chuckle.
He sits up from his slumped, laid back position and takes another big gulp from his second beer before resting his elbows on the table.
"Seeing as we're both in kind of a slump, maybe we should..." He bites his lip, looking like he'll regret if he finishes that sentence, but continues anyways. "Hook up? I mean, I've been thinking about asking you for a while, but I wasn't sure if you were interested at all, hell, I'm still not sure, I'm not even sure if I'M interested. But you know, it's something we can try and if it doesn't work out, it's not like we're gonna stop being best bros..."
He keeps talking and talking and you're surprised you don't spit out the beer in your mouth.
Your name is John Egbert and there's a lot you know about your best friend. But you sure as hell didn't know he'd ever ask you out.
Your name is Dave Strider and you're pretty sure you know everything about your best friend.
His name is John Egbert and despite the many times that you have told him, he insists on keeping the same lame hair cut he's had for years. His eyes are blue despite being Filipino and he wears glasses instead of contacts because without frames, he looks awkward. He dyes his hair black and uses a bunch of hair product and can not grow facial hair, no matter how hard he tries. He's 5'11" and unlike you, he's pretty well built and broad shouldered.
He does magic shows sometimes for extra cash and he still watches shitty movies, despite getting over his big crush on Nic Cage. He doesn't know any other colour than green apparently because his wardrobe has 50 shades of green with black and gray thrown into the mix and every so often you sneak into his apartment and throw out his ugly ass clothes and replace it which thoroughly pisses him off. He still believes in ghosts and the 'paranormal' and sometimes you suspect he might be a closet devil worshiper. You convinced him to get his eyebrow pierced and completely on his own accord, got his nipple pierced too.
Despite what an odd pair you two make, you've been best friends for years. You both told each other when you both got laid and you gossip like high school girls about whoever Rose and Jade are shacking up with and how long they'll last.
Several times you've saved each other from a shitty relationship and hooked each other up with people you thought the other would like, but from the results, both of you are shitty matchmakers.
Which is what led you guys to this, sitting alone at a bar, single and drinking.
Now, both of you are plenty sober so your question wasn't one of drunken stupidity. In fact, you had been thinking about asking Egbert out for a long time.
Not obsessively obviously since you've gotten laid several times in between and had other crushes too.
But John was your best friend and you thought, 'Why not give it a shot?'
He stared at you, probably trying to figure out if you actually drank more than what he originally thought. He looked a bit confused and pondered for a bit before actually answering.
"You sure? I mean, I'm not sure how I feel about dating my best friend."
"Is that a yes or a no Egbert? I don't have all night, I could go ask that babe over there for her number instead."
"Please Dave, she's out of your league. Plus, she has obviously checking me out all night."
You reach over to punch the little shit in the arm while he laughs. You start laughing too. Who was he kidding? She was obviously checking you out.
"I wouldn't mind... We could try, I guess." He says this kind of softly, sounding as unsure as you felt when you asked.
"The worst that can happen is I knock you up, we get married, divorce and then force our sweet little Dana to choose between Mommy and Daddy."
"Dave, come on, you haven't even taken me out for a proper date yet. A girl has certain standards you know." He bats his eyelashes before and feigns an offended look.
"Oh my God John, you lost your virginity in the back of a van with some guy from the football team."
He frowns at you, knitting his eyebrows together and slapping you upside the head.
"At least I didn't PAY to lose my virginity."
"Judge all you want John, that prostitute was fine as hell."
"You're ridiculous."
"Just shut up and kiss me or something. You are a piece of shit when it comes to being romantic. I mean I was the one who had to ask you out. A gentleman should always ask the lady out, preferably by asking her parents and maybe bringing some flowers. But no, you took too long so I had to go ahead and pop the question. Whatever happened to chivalry Jonathan? It really is dead, I mean..."
Your name is Dave Strider and you're pretty sure you know everything about your best friend. Except that he actually would get up, grab your hand and kiss you on the lips, just to get you to shut up.