Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/2262009.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi
  Fandom:
      Homestuck
  Relationship:
      John_Egbert/Jade_Harley/Rose_Lalonde/Dave_Strider
  Character:
      John_Egbert, Rose_Lalonde, Dad_(Homestuck), Mom_(Homestuck), Dave
      Strider, Bro_Strider, Jade_Harley, Grandpa_Harley
  Additional Tags:
      Polyamory, Soulmate-Identifying_Marks, Alternate_Universe_-_No_Sburb
      Session, Pegging, Coming_of_Age, Loss_of_Virginity, Consensual_Underage
      Sex, Anal_Sex, Threesome_-_F/M/M, Oral_Sex, Dave_Gets_Owned, Not_As_Much
      Porn_As_You_Would_Think, wuv..._twu_wuv
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-09-06 Completed: 2015-10-21 Chapters: 4/4 Words: 29741
****** Quarter Measures ******
by orphan_account
Summary
     Or: "Four Different Ways To Say 'I Love You'"
     In a world where people are born with their soulmate's name on their
     wrist, John Egbert has three. The trick to this is finding them.
***** Close Your Eyes and Count to Ten *****
 
I_gotta_say_you_look_real_pretty
All_the_way_from_New_York_Cit y
And_the_sunlight_in_your_eyes
Pins_and_needles
No_surprise
And_the_moon_shines_in_your_hair
Can_you_believe_it_we're_really_here
- - - -
 
Your name is John Egbert.
 
The names on your wrist are:
 
Rose Lalonde
Dave Strider
Jade Harley
 
Your father reads them out loud to you because you’re too young to make sense
of the letters yourself.
 
You’re too young to understand the significance of this.
 
- - - -
 
You don’t go to school when you turn six.
,
You don’t go to school when you turn seven.
 
You don’t start going to school at all.
 
You ask your dad why and he tells you he’s not sure it’d be the best way to
learn, and you accept that until you’re ten and you realize that you’re
different.
 
You’re old enough to understand the full impact of words like ‘lynching’ and
‘homophobia’ and ‘hate crime’ and you’re old enough to understand that normal
people get one name.
 
Dad tells you it just means you’re three times as lucky as everyone else, that
you can’t help who you’re supposed to love.
 
You tell your dad that’s a load of bullshit - your exact phrasing - and you
start wearing long sleeves. You quit online school and enroll in 7th grade for
the next year at the local middle school.
 
- - - -
 
You make friends, and people like you and this alone is enough to let you go
about your day.
 
You wouldn’t call yourself unhappy - not by a long shot - just . . . on edge.
 
You can never really go too long in any given conversation without someone
mentioning love, and you feel yourself heat up a bit each time, getting closer
and closer to boiling over every time because they get to be in love and you
don’t.
 
Love is exact, defined, clear cut like diamonds but far less rare. Everyone
gets love. Every movie protagonist, every story book character, every teacher
at your school and every parent of your classmates. For every boy, there is one
girl. This is the way things are.
 
In class your teacher mentioned offhandedly that there is just an ever so
slightly larger amount of girls than boys in the world and you’re not sure it
mattered to anyone else but you, but it did. It mattered.
 
Numbers, you understand. Those numbers say that there are girls out there who
wake up to another woman’s name marked on their body. Those numbers say that
maybe, just probably, there are people like you. This is comfort enough for
now, this small abstraction of people who are just a little bit different.
 
Life goes on and you learn to tune out the things people state as fact, tacking
a silent thought of ‘except me!’ onto the end of your lab partner’s comment
when he says that everyone grows up to marry their soulmate.
 
You wonder if you have three souls and each one of those belongs to a specific
person. You wonder if you just have to split your normal soul into three
pieces. You wonder if a soul is real.
 
You are not unhapppy.
 
- - - -
 
You are in eighth grade and your life evens out a bit as you learn the right
thing to say in social situations. You learn exactly how far down you have to
pull your sleeve to show just Rose’s name - not Jade or Dave’s. You learn that
a girl in your class has chinese characters birthmarked on her forearm and has
never found someone capable of translating it, not in your little slice of
suburbia.
 
She scribbles the crisscrossing lines in the margins of almost every piece of
homework she turns in and plans to major in Chinese linguistics.
 
At the start of the new semester you get all new classes and take creative
writing as a cop out english credit. Less tests. Less essays. Less annoying
slackers, because your English grade had to be high enough to enroll in the
class.
 
It’s first period and it’s your first day of class and you step briskly through
the door with just enough patented lack of awareness to smack head first into a
girl.
 
She’s taller than you and skinny in a twiggish way that suggests rapid,
hormone-infused growth. She glares at you, sculpted eyebrows arching down
sharply, and her dark, painted mouth twitches aggressively at the corners.
There’s the slightest flush on her unnaturally pale skin as she bends down to
pick up her dropped papers.
 
Her binder has popped open, loose leave pouring out of it like a typographic
ocean.
 
“Haha, whoops! Sorry. Didn’t really think anyone would be in there, class
hasn’t started yet.” You bend down to help her. It’s the gentlemanly thing to
do, of course, and your father would roll over in his metaphorical future grave
if you didn’t. On the way down you manage to clank your heads together once
again, perhaps with even less grace than the first time.
 
“Yes, I’m sensing a distinct lack of class in this immediate area!” She snaps,
rapidly shoving her papers to rest loosely in her binder before trying to
scurry off.
 
“Wait!” Against all better judgement, you grab her arm.
 
“What on earth could you possibly want?”
 
“I just want to help you okay! Geez! I’m really sorry I bumped into you but it
was totally an accident. Even the second time, I’m just kind of a dumb ass. The
least I can do is help fix your papers.”
 
She pauses for a moment. Purses her lips.
 
“Honestly I’d suspect you’d do more harm than help trying to re-organize this
catastrophe, taking into account the fact that you have no idea what order
they’re even supposed to go in . . . ”
 
Maybe she catches the disappointment you don’t really try to hide or maybe
she’s a little bit more hurt than she’s letting on.
 
“If you insist, though, you could drop these forms off at the front desk.
That’s where I was headed anyway. Should you want to go above and beyond in
your quest for white knighthood, I wouldn’t mind an ice pack from the nurses
office. My poor cranium is already feeling a bit bruised and I have yet to face
the inevitable headache caused from a day surrounded by members of my peer
group.”
 
- - -
 
You sit politely on the other side of the classroom when you get back from
running her errands, and slowly as the minutes go by the rest of the class
trickles in.
 
Brrriiiiing! goes the bell. Role Call.
 
You zone out after your name is called, opting instead to doodle small spirals
on your hand while you wait for something interesting to happen.
 
Something interesting happens.
 
“Rose Lalonde.” You jolt like you’ve been shot and when a soft ‘here’ comes
from the exact opposite side of the room, you whip your head to the side.
 
She’s already staring at you, staring through you, like she can see right into
your soul(s?).
 
You wave. You don’t know what else to do.
 
She waves back and the next ninety minutes are hell.
 
- - - -
 
Her jaw is unusually squareish for a girl and her makeup is heavy and dark, and
she is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. You linger after class,
hovering awkwardly by your desk and waiting for the room to clear out as she
slowly, deliberately packs up her belongings. You are the last two left and she
glides up next to you. She’s still staring, her pretty black mouth slightly
ajar. You can’t stop staring either.
 
“Uh. Hi. I’m John?” You offer her your hand. She takes it delicately and gives
a solid shake.
 
“Are you sure about that? You don’t sound entirely positive.” She laughs
briefly,punctuating with a small giggle. Oh wow. oh wow.
 
“Nope! Definitely me. And you’re. You’re Rose. Wow.”
 
“I’d have to second that ‘wow’, Mister Egbert. Your masculine confidence is
making me feint, if only you could fetch the smelling salts. Oh woe, for she
had never thought she would meet her soulmate, had she known he would be such a
dashing and graceful young gentleman, she would have pursued him with much more
vigor!”
 
She slaps a hand dramatically to her forehead and slumps against you, sighing
deeply. You scoop her up and cradle her bridal style despite the no less than 4
inches of height she has on you.
 
“So forward!”
 
You try to say something. You end up squeaking ‘Sorry!’ and dropping her.
 
“It’s fine, don’t worry about it. I’d imagine we’ll be spending quite a bit of
time together - I’ll find a way to get you back.”
 
“Oh gosh . . . I guess that’s fair! So um, what class do you have next?”
 
“Oh Jonathan - can I call you Jonathan, is that alright? John my dearest
companion we aren’t going to class today. That would be such a waste, don’t you
think? Our youth as we speak is already fleeting and the cliched blossoming
love I was promised has yet to unfurl it’s dewy petals and reveal its sweet
nectar to me.”
 
“Um . . . I’m sorry?”
 
“Apology accepted. Finally, I can stop blaming my withering youth on my
emotionally distant mother. Now, if you’ll come with me I should think it
appropriate to, as the kids call it, ‘play hookie’ for the day.”
 
She wraps long, bony fingers around your wrist and drags you off in the general
direction of the nearest door.
 
“Oh okay! Do you mind if I ask where we’re going though? Because I mean if I am
not back at school by the time my dad is supposed to pick me up he’ll get
worried and probably call the police or something! And then I’ll show up like
twenty minutes late and he’ll be crying like ‘OH SON I WAS SO WORRIED BUT I AM
GLAD YOU ARE SAFE I AM SO PROUD OF YOU!’ and it would just be. Really
embarrassing!”
 
“Relax, John. We’ll be back in time.” She squeezes you quickly and flashes you
a quick smile.
 
You like the way your name sounds when she says it - like she’s the only one
who's ever known what it really means.
 
“Rose . . .”
 
“Hm?”
 
“Nothing! I just. You’re a real person. You actually exist! Wow. That’s pretty
neat.
 
“This just in: local teen reaches philosophical enlightenment. Was quoted as
calling existence ‘pretty neat’.” She laughs and it’s not light and airy like
the girls on tv laughed but it’s perfect.
 
* * * *
 
She drags you out to a diner on the edge of town and under the fluorescent
lighting you trade stories about life and make small talk that doesn’t seem
small at all. You dip french fries into your milkshake and order a more or less
consistent flow of black coffee.
 
You tell her you never knew your mother and she says she never knew her dad.
 
She asks you to show her your wrist, and she lightly traces over her own name.
 
“It says Rose.”
 
“Yeah! That’s your name, why wouldn’t it say Rose?”
 
She pauses for a moment and lets her skin linger against yours, her pallor
contrasting with your dark, dark brown. Your arm feels tingly.
 
“It wasn’t always Rose.” She explains. “It was Ross when I was born. I’m
transgender.”
 
“Oh! So you were born a boy?” And as you say it she instantly withdraws into
herself, pulling her arms and legs back to the opposite side of the booth where
she’s sitting. “God I said something really stupid didn’t I!”
 
“It’s okay. Believe me, I’ve heard far worse. No, I was not born a boy. I was
born, and am still a girl who happens to have a penis. I don’t suppose that is
going to be a problem is it?” And there’s venom in her voice like a cornered
animal and you feel so so bad for offending her.
 
“No! Of course not. I’d have to be a real jerk to have a problem with that and
I’d like to think I’m not a total jerk . . . at least I’d like to think I’m
not. And besides, we’re. Y’know. If I wasn’t okay with it we’d be a shitty
match and that wouldn’t make any sense.” You twirl the straw around in your
empty glass and shrug lightly.
 
“I suppose you have a little bit more faith in whatever mysterious forces
control the world than I do.”
 
“Yeah, I guess so!”
 
* * * *
 
That afternoon you get your first kiss, breathless and panting from your run to
make it back to school on time. If you dad notices the black lipstick smudged
on your face, he doesn’t mention it.
 
He asks you about your day and you say it was good.
 
It’s not until that weekend that you get the courage to take her home and
introduce her to your father. He goes crazy, of course, tearing up and crushing
the two of you into a hug and all but blackmailing Rose into inviting her
mother over for dinner.
 
Roxy - Mom, as you are instructed to call her - Lalonde is a loud and
boisterous woman who drinks too much and doesn’t leave the house without a gun.
She smells like cats and has a heavy Brooklyn accent. She’s a very physical
woman and hugs you even more than your dad, leaving an occasional stain of dark
lipstick on your cheek or forehead or, if she’s particularly drunk, your nose.
You love her like the mother you never had.
 
Time blends into a comfortable pattern only distinguished by the changing
season. Rose’s gothic backwoods manor becomes just as much a home for you as
your own suburban split level. The opposite can be said for her. You spend
tuesday and thursday afternoons playing Dungeons and Dragons at an after school
club and the rest of week bouncing from house to house until it gets late
enough that one of your parents makes you stay home.
 
You play videogames together and work through every title the Legend of Zelda
franchise offers; you control the remote and fight off monsters while Rose sits
on the couch knitting with the needles you bought her, and together the two of
you work your way through the puzzles.
 
On lazy weekends Mom teaches you the basics of computer programming and hand to
hand combat in the cool safety of her underground laboratory. Rose waits
patiently for her turn, dangling string to distract the most recent litter of
kittens, then proceeds to beat the pulp out of you.
 
Sometimes the fighting isn’t as staged as these days, though. Sometimes you say
the wrong thing or she does or both of you just misunderstand each other. The
honeymoon phase of your first meeting has long faded and fault lines start
popping up between the two of you. Miniscule cracks, just enough to let ill
intent seep through. You’ll go days, even weeks holding an unspoken grudge and
pick the exact wrong moment to finally say something to her.
 
Its times like these when you’ll go days without talking and only interacting
in the form of passing glances at school, but time heals all wounds and
eventually one of you will suck it up and apologize.
 
Things get easier, after a while. You find rhythm in each other - learning each
other’s boundaries and secrets, passing the phase of testing the water and
finally being comfortable in your surroundings.
 
She turns 15. So do you.
 
- - - -
 
You’re laying next to each other in her bed one late September day and the
house has the kind of quiet a house can only have when all of the other rooms
are empty. She’s kissing you, her hands wrapped around your neck and yours
around her back, stroking the soft, pale skin that sticks out underneath her
shirt as it ever so slightly hitches up.
 
The kiss deepens and you pull her closer, pressing her frame up against yours
and feeling the way her breath hitches as you slide your hands up farther under
her shirt. Your own breathing is ragged and labored, and you subconsciously
shift in her lap to grind against her.
 
You pull away from her mouth and start working your way down, stopping to peck
at her cheek then chin, then neck, all while she makes these breathy little
gasps underneath you that are driving you crazy. You suck right at the crock of
her neck, moving to bite at her shoulder and then trail soft kisses across her
collarbone. You can feel her start to get hard underneath you, and you feel
yourself follow soon after.
 
This is normally as far as you go; despite the airs Rose puts on, you know she
isn’t all too confident with her body, especially when it comes to letting
other people see it. Even more so when it comes to touching. Yet here you are,
grinding against her like the horny teenager you are. You pause for just a
moment, pull back, look at her.
 
She’s more flushed than you’ve ever seen her.


“Rose . . . are you okay with this? I mean really okay and not just pretending
to be okay?”
 
She chuckles at you.
 
“Oh, god. I am definitely okay. Believe me, I won’t hesitate to ask you to stop
if you’re going too far. But I mean. Jesus christ I really want to fuck you
right now.” She murmurs right into your ear.
 
You were about to say something, you know you were, but suddenly her lips are
back on yours and her hands are moving down your back to grab your ass and all
you can do is moan into her mouth.
 
Once again it’s you who breaks the kiss, only to give yourself enough time to
yank her shirt roughly over her head. She’s not wearing a bra - she never does
when it’s just the two of you because she doesn’t need to keep up appearances.
You drag your palms down her chest and let your mouth follow, trailing soft
kisses all the way down to her navel.
 
She lays back and wriggles out of her skirt and you can see her now
(presumably) full erection straining against her boxer briefs.You can’t resist.
You bend down and lick her through the fabric and she just keens.
 
It’s a good noise. You know Rose well enough to know that that is definitely a
good noise.
 
You pull down her boxers and take a look at her dick for the first time. It’s
longer than yours, but thinner, which makes sense proportionally speaking, and
the base disappears into the tidy patch of white-blond curls just below. You
stroke it lightly, not really aiming for any stimulation, but just testing the
waters. It jumps and Rose twitches, her legs shivering as she lets out a 'gasp.
 
“Oh my god you’re a teenage boy aren’t you suppose to want to jump my bones?
I’m incredibly disappointed that you’re such a gentleman. How can one expect to
be ravished when their boyfriend has the maidenly virtue of a nun? I’m aghast,
John. Simply agha-” and she stops saying words when you wrap your lips around
the tip of her dick and drag your tongue across it.
 
A drop of precum breaks on your tongue and you grimace a bit, caught off guard
by the salty flavor.
 
“God, John.” she moans, digging her hands into the sheet and kicking her legs
wildly. You grab one under the crook of your arm and keep your other palm flat
against the bed, bracing yourself as you bob lightly on her cock. She shudders,
canting her hips and driving herself deeper into your mouth, choking you just a
bit and you pull back and gasp out of shock.
 
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. John, are you alright?” she asks worriedly.
 
“Yeah, yeah,” you splutter out between coughs. “It’s perfectly fine that was
actually kind of hot anyway . . . oh god is that really weird of me to think?
Is it weird that I’m into that?”
 
“Hmm . . . I’m probably not one to judge whether or not a particular fetish is
weird. My affinities are a little bit less than standard themselves, and you
certainly aren’t alone in yours. Weird is incredibly subjective, unfortunately,
so it’s a bit hard to measure with any sort of accuracy.” She reaches down onto
the floor next to the bed to hand you the glass of water she was drinking
earlier. It’s lukewarm, but welcome, and you drink all of it gratefully.
 
“Thanks Rose!”
 
“Of course. The least I can do.” She props herself up for a moment to adjust
her pillows, supporting her back and torso a bit more so she’s not laying
completely flat when she rests back down on them. She grabs the hem of your
shirt which is beginning to feel a bit stifling, along with your much too tight
pants, and pulls you forward. You’re in a plank-like position now, arms stuck
out straight on either side of her, balancing on your toes and palms so you
aren’t quite laying on top of her.
 
“So,” she begins “If you don’t mind me asking, what about that turned you on?
Was it the asphyxiation itself, or simply the feeling of having a cock rammed
down your throat?” and you’re glad you’re not as pale as she is because if you
blushed visibly you would be redder than a tomato right now.
 
Normally, you wouldn’t understand how she could talk so casually about these
sorts of things, but you’ve learned her tells; she’s anything but casual. Her
face is doing a decent impression of her namesake as more color than you
thought possible leaches into her face. You squeak a bit.
 
“Uh . . . both, I guess.” You let yourself flop over to one side and roll a bit
so you’re laying next to her, your heads lined up side to side and your feet
coming to rest somewhere parallel to her lower shin. “Do you want me to um . .
. finish, what I was starting down there?”
 
“. . . No, no. I’d. I have something else in mind, if it wouldn’t be too much
to ask.”
 
“Well . . . what is it?”
 
“I want to fuck you. Full on.” her hand slides softly over the sheets to find
yours and she strokes the back of it with her thumb. You pause to think for a
minute.
 
“Okay.”
 
“Really? You’re alright with that? I know this isn’t the most . . . traditional
way of doing things.”
 
You chuckle, then hold up your wrist to where she can see the names.
 
“We’re not exactly the most traditional people, Rose. And I mean, I guess I’m
up for it! I don’t know if I’ll completely like it but I mean I’m definitely
willing to give it a try. I just. Oh god this is kind of embarrassing. I mean I
don’t really get how it’s supposed to work without like, hurting? I mean, will
it feel good for me too?”
 
And then she’s the one laughing. Not in a mean way, but in the light and happy
way of someone who has just heard something that caught them off guard.
 
“Don’t worry, it’s fairly simple. And if I do it right, which I hope I will, it
should feel very good for you. Otherwise I doubt a lot of people would do it.”
She pushes herself up out of the bed and pecks you quickly on the lips before
getting up entirely. “I’m just gonna go grab something, I’ll be right back.”
 
“Okay! Don’t miss me too much while you’re gone!”
 
Then the door click behind her and you’re left in awkward boner purgatory.
laying flat on your back and looking forward your dick is almost comically
visible through your khaki cargo shorts, straining against the material in a
desperate bid for freedom.
 
Are you supposed to get naked? She was totally naked when she left the room and
you’re still fully clothed, but that didn’t necessarily mean it wouldn’t be
weird if she came back to the room and you were laying on her bed in the nude.
That’s just a little bit too classless, in your opinion, and your father raised
you to be a gentleman. You immediately stop thinking of your father while you
have a massive boner because wow, weird.
 
Instead, you take the time to admire the pattern of the light as it streams
through the window, leaving golden trapezoids stretching and bending across the
fold of her blankets and over your legs where it isn’t blocked out by tree
branches. It’s nice, cozy lighting, and you’re glad that the weather is so nice
today. The sky is blue and clear and the air hasn’t been this crisp in a while
and you suppose it’s good weather to have when losing your virginity.
 
And wow, that’s certainly about to happen, isn’t it? You, John Egbert, are
about to have sex with a pretty girl. Maybe not in the way most people
typically picture but it is certainly happening. You take a moment to sort
through your feelings. You’re nervous, yes, but most people are when attempting
something so utterly foreign as getting fucked in the ass for the first time.
The most prominent feeling is excitement.
 
You love Rose. You really do. At the beginning, despite serendipity, you
weren’t so sure about that. Love didn’t feel the way movies made you think it
was supposed to. It wasn’t a fiery passion every time you saw her; it was
comfort and stability, like coming home to a soft blanket on a warm day. It
wasn’t nearly as chaotic and all encompassing as you expected it to be either.
You and Rose had lives outside of each other, and that was fine.
 
She walks back in and you lean up to grin at her. She pops you a smile back.
She’s holding a pink bottle of something you presume to be lubricant. You
wonder where she got it.
 
“I’m back. It was very hard to be without you for no more than two minutes, but
I’ve coped and managed to return unscathed.”
 
“Thank god, I was so worried. Is that lube?”
 
She shakes the bottle for emphasis and the liquid inside sloshes around.
 
“Bubblegum flavored apparently.” She quirks an eyebrow. “Mother never ceases to
surprise me while simultaneously living up to my exact expectations of her.
It’s an art, really.”
 
“Wait, that stuff is Mom’s!?”
 
“Yes. I wasn’t planning on this, I didn’t exactly have time to run over to the
local Erotic Imports and pick up a bottle in our preferred flavor.” She rolls
her eyes at you. “It’s not like it’s been used. If you just ignore the thought
of Mommy dearest taking bubblegum flavored staffs into her mystic cave, there’s
nothing too disturbing about it.”
 
“Thank you Rose. Thank you for that beautiful mental picture there. I think
that’s permanently ingrained in my neurons now.”
 
She smiles at you.
 
“I’ve walked in on it before. I think it’s only fair that we share this
particular burden.”
 
“Oh my god,” you place a hand consolingly on her shoulder. “That’s tragic, I’m
so sorry Rose.”
 
“Alas!” she sighs. “We all have our cross to bear. Shall we proceed to the main
event?”
 
“No time like the present!” and before you know it she’s pushing you back into
the bed and kissing you with just as much vigor as before.
 
Her hands once more find themselves toying with the bottom of your shirt,
pushing it up on your chest slowly, taking the time to feel what seems like
every inch of your skin. Her hands are so light on your that the feeling is
somewhere between a light tickle and a passing breeze and that alone leaves you
gasping into her mouth. She only breaks the contact to pull your shirt over
your head and then she goes right back to work.
 
She’s fiddling with the button and fly on your pants now, hands unsteady,
obviously growing impatient. You can feel her erection pressing up against your
leg at full mast now; it had flagged a bit in her absence but she’s obviously
just as aroused as you are. She is done with foreplay apparently and she yanks
your pants and boxers off at the same time, and the relief from the pressure of
your pants is heavenly.
 
She kisses you hard once more, then whispers into your ear.”Okay, I’m going to
start now.”
 
You nod, not sure if you can form coherent words at the moment. She gets up and
uncaps the bottle of lube, dripping a copious amount on her fingers and letting
some dribble onto the bedsheets. Just as her fingers make (cold) contact with
your skin, you stop her.
 
“Wait!” You shout out with maybe a little bit too much shock. Taken aback, she
withdraws her hand.
 
“Is everything okay?”
 
“Yes! I mean, I think. I just.” You bite your lip for a moment. You’re not
afraid of sounding dumb around Rose, because she’s never mean to you about it,
but sometimes you can’t help but feel embarrassed. “Are we supposed to be using
a condom for this?”
 
“I don’t think so? There’s always the risk of catching a sexually transmitted
disease when one doesn’t use proper protection, but considering we’re both
virgins I think it’s safe to assume we’re both clean. I know some people like
to use things to make their sexual endeavors a bit less messy, but I don’t mind
if you don’t.” She pauses. Waits for you to speak.
 
“I definitely don’t mind. I am way too horny to mind anything right now so as
long as neither of us is pregnant or sick it can be as messy as you like!” She
laughs at your enthusiasm and moves her hand back against your ass.
 
She starts with one finger, moving it in slow circles while her other hand
strokes your side, trying to get you to relax enough for actual penetration.
Her breathing is just as heavy as yours and you’re glad she’s being effected
just as much as you are. Then, suddenly, you give and her first finger is
inside of you.
 
It’s not painful. It’s not even particularly uncomfortable. It just feels like
a strange pressure, with nothing particularly positive or negative happening in
adjacent.
 
“Are we good?” She asks.
 
“Good! Good. Keep going.” and she does.
 
She moves her index finger in and out of you, twisting and angling and soon
enough another slips in with only slightly less ease than the first. She
scissors the two of them inside of you, stretching you out, and the feeling is
so bizarre that you can’t help but let out a quick surprised gasp. She doesn’t
stop, though. She knows you well enough to know that that’s no kind of pained
or wary noise. She shoves her fingers in a little bit farther and they hit a
spot they didn’t before and you scream.
 
“John!?” She asks anxiously after automatically withdrawing her fingers. “Did I
hurt you?”
 
“What?” You manage to choke out. “Oh god, no. That was a sexy scream.
definitely NOT hurting. Seriously Rose you have to do that again or i’ll cry.”
 
“Oh dear, I can’t have that on my conscience. As you wish, my dear.” Once she
applies more lube to her fingers, she’s back at it.
 
It stays like that for a few minutes. Her fingering you, progressively getting
faster and looser as you relax, hitting your prostate every now and then. You
writhe against your sheets, thanking whatever god may be responsible for the
fact that you agreed to this. Eventually she manages to spread three of her
fingers a decent width inside of you and takes it as a sign that you’re ready.
 
You’re a panting mess when she pulls out. She’s fairly shaken herself. Her
hands shake and her eyes clench tight as she rubs lube onto her dick, toes
curling against the sheet. She takes one of your thighs in each hand and
spreads your legs almost as far apart as they’ll go. You feel so small and
vulnerable and suddenly it’s hard for you to look at her.
 
“Rose  . . .” you begin, not entirely sure what you’re trying to say.
 
“Yes?”
 
“I love you.” and that seems like the right thing because even though you think
she already knows, you’ve never said it to her.

“I love you too, John.” and you’d have to be an idiot not to believe it as she
presses into you.
 
It’s all of the good feeling her fingers had increased tenfold. Her dick is
warm and rock solid inside of you, and long enough that every time she thrusts
in she rubs against your prostate to some degree. You feel your orgasm building
up fast.
 
Pure unbridled pleasure radiates from your core all the way to the tips of your
fingers and toes, blurring everything around you but the feel of Rose fucking
you. The sound of your mixed whines and moans sound earth shatteringly loud and
completely drown out any other thoughts you might possibly be thinking.
 
Her rhythm begins to falter and you think she’s getting close.
 
“Fuck, John I-” and that’s it.
 
You’re not entirely sure how you’d describe the feeling of having someone come
inside of you. It doesn’t feel like much. It’s warm and gooey and that’s about
it but the real kicker was how close you felt to her in that moment. For a
brief handful of seconds, it was like you weren’t even two different people,
just one perfectly balanced entity.
 
As soon as she takes a moment to recover she finishes you off with her hand and
the two of you rinse each other off in her shower.
 
You could get used to this.


***** Welcome Home *****
Chapter Summary
     There's dave in this one.
Chapter Notes
     god im sorry just take it just fucking take it
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Peel the scars from off my back
I don't need them anymore
You can throw them out or keep them in your mason jars
I've come home
- - - -
When you’re sixteen you get a job in a movie theater because it’s close to your
house, the hours are between school and when you need to work on homework, and
you get free tickets to anything you’d like to see. It’s great. Rose flits from
show to show on her down time, leaving her backpack and binders behind the
counter while she watches the new Twilight movie for the 5th time that week.
The first time she saw the movie she declared it a ‘postmodern caricature of
the subtle misogyny that oftentimes seeps through the cracks of mainstream
narratives, and a quite comical parody of white knighthood and the
traditionally understood role of a soul mate in one’s life.’
You ask her if she knows that she’s the only one who sees it that way.
She says yes.
After the fourth watch through she leaves the theater positively glowing, and
proceeds to read to you the three thousand words of theoretical Edward/Jacob
slashfic she managed to write through the 115 minute running time of Breaking
Dawn.
You tell her it is a wonderful postmodern caricature of subtle misogyny.
Eventually it’s understood by your manager that Rose is a permanent fixture in
the Carmike 12 so long as you’re employed there, and in exchange for some basic
menial labor off the books Rose is granted free concessions and the occasional
pleasure of forcibly removing a heckler from the premises.
She’s particularly good at the last part; despite not being clad in the classic
maroon vestments of a Carmike 12 employee (dubbed ‘stunningly handsome’ by Ms.
Lalonde herself) Rose commanded a certain sort of inherit authority that one
did NOT question. During the midst of her initial view of the critically
unacclaimed Nativity 2: Danger in the Manger (Offers little in the way of
festive fun. - Alex Zane, Sun Online) she drags one such unfortunate gentleman
by the arm to the front counter.
This alone is a change of pace. You’ve never known Rose to leave a movie
without seeing it all the way through the first time. Maybe it was just that
bad. But no. Rose made you sit through the entirety of The Last Airbender. Her
steel trap of a psyche can internalize even the worst movies known to man. This
category of movies does NOT include Mac and Me, despite how much she insists.
“Do you even work here lady!? Not like I even wanted to see the rest of that
shitty movie oh my god, I thought British humor was supposed to go over the
heads of our feeble american audience. If I wanted a laugh of that quality I’d
have watched Schindler’s List again.” He quips as Rose drags him.
She pushes him against the counter and he smacks face first into it, his
ridiculous sunglasses clattering against the faux-marbled countertops.
“Holy hell you psycho I talked during a movie, It’s not like I committed a
felony. There’s no need to go all guantanamo on my ass, if anyone deserves to
be tried for war crimes its the European assholes who made that sin of a film.
Let me tell you, Jesus did NOT die on the cross for humanity to be more than
2000 years old yet still be making films starring one already famous actor as
whimsical twins. Zero out of ten, would not recommend Nativity 2:
Ecclesiastical Boogaloo for future watching.”
“I thought it was kind of funny!” You offer.
He turns to you and pauses. Takes a moment to adjust the gigantic triangles
resting on his face.
“Listen dude, I’m sorry, but do you suffer from the specific brand of mental
illness where your comedy processing core is rewired to your pity secretion
glands, or are you just so clinically depressed that your masochistic fantasies
manifest in such a way where you’re convinced that Nativity 2: The Re-Nativity-
ing was anything other than an insult to every sense. And yes, I include smell,
taste, and touch because I’m pretty sure at one point during that audio-visual
assault I vomited on myself. I even think that there may have been some sixth-
sense bullshit going along with the other five there because that wasn’t
actually a movie. That was the hollow, empty ghost of a movie, and I’m pretty
sure only I could see it for what it truly was because the other people in the
theater were actually laughing. In retrospect, they were probably ghosts too
because that would be the only Shyamalan-style twist that could revive this
experience for me.” He punctuates his last sentence by dramatically throwing
his hands up in the air, making a gesture you almost don’t realize is mimicking
a mic-drop.
You meet Rose’s gaze. You are now keenly aware of why she chose to personally
execute him out of the theater. Her eyebrow quirks up and she nods her head
slightly to where he’s standing there, red faced from ranting for about two
solid minutes without breathing. You fucking lose it.
“Dude!” you wheeze out between bouts of laughter, “dude oh my god if you hated
it that much I’ll - whatever, I’ll give you a refund.” He slams his hand on the
counter and inhales deeply. Sweet zombie jesus, he’s gearing up for another
novel length word vomit. This kid is amazing. You wish you had been in the
theater to hear whatever bullshit he must have been spouting earlier.
“A refund!? Do you think this is a joke, J-” He’s got you tugged forward by
your nametag. “John Egbert.”
He stops talking, but doesn’t let you go.
“John Egbert? Your name is John Egbert?”
“Yeah? Do I know you or something man?” you ask.
“I’m Dave. Dave Strider.” and Rose’s face light’s up like it’s Christmas (or
perhaps the release day of a holiday themed sequel starring David Tennant), a
manic grin plastered on her face as she muffles a hideously unladylike half-
laugh half-screech. You’re leaping over the counter and full body tackling him
into Rose before any of you even realize that it’s happening and you all three
fall flat onto the ground like some sort of Dave sandwich. Poor Rose takes the
brunt of your combined weight.
“Oh my god,” you laugh. “Oh my god! Hi!”
“Yes, hello from me as well. Rose Lalonde,” she adds. “Please stop crushing my
ribcage.”
You roll off to Rose’s left, and Dave rolls right. He’s laying spread eagle on
the filthy theater floor with an absolutely blank look on his face.
“What the fuck,” he says. “Seriously. What the fuck?”
Rose laughs.
- - - -
You just about kidnap Dave. He stays with you until your shift is over and you
manage to persuade him into abandoning his car at the Carmike so all three of
you can pile into your periwinkle blue station wagon from the late 90s. You
drive, Rose stakes her claim on shotgun, and Dave is stranded hopelessly in the
back while you distractedly pester him about every aspect of his life like you
and Rose are his adoring sitcom parents driving him home after a particularly
eventful day of 7th grade.
In one fifteen minute car ride, you learn:
Dave has no family beyond his older brother and a puppet by the name of “Li’l
Cal”
Dave has a blog where he posts “post-ironic serial artwork’
Dave and Rose use the exact same brand of concealer
This is stunningly little information proportionately speaking. Dave rambles.
Dave selects one little topic to pick at and can spend roughly three minutes
talking without a pause for breath. You suppose he has to sacrifice length for
volume because not only is he a ceaseless spray of words, he’s a mumbler. He
talks mostly to himself without much care for whether anyone else is listening,
and seems to enjoy talking about any subject but his personal life.
You wonder if he’s trying to avoid any touchy childhood trauma subjects, but
this thought is dispelled when he mentions the whole rapping puppet thing. You
begin to realize that, like the rest of your motley gang, Dave is just really
really weird. You drive him back to his car when dinner’s done and give him a
soft peck on the cheek and he stutters out something vaguely dismissive and
drives away. God.
* * * *
Dave switches to your school as soon as physically possible and his course list
turns out to be very similar to Rose’s. You barely see either of them except at
lunch. Initially, in freshman year, you and Rose had tried to make your
schedules overlap as much as you could, but most of your classes ended up as
compromises and neither of you were really happy with the results. Despite your
compatibility, you have very little in the way of mutual interests. It follows
suit that you spend most of the quarter alone.
You don’t entirely mind - the less time you spend with Dave the less likely you
are to be found out, and none of you are sure you’re ready for that shitstorm.
Still, though, in passing you’ll see the two of them in the hallway moving from
one shared class to the next, heads leaned in close whispering something you
can’t quite make out but you know it’s funny because they both laugh. It’s so
much less okay in moments like those.
It’s not too long into the school year before they cross a line. Dave kisses
Rose. At school. In front of everyone. You understand why he did it - Elizabeth
Y. called her an unlovable tranny bitch and you would have done the exact same
thing, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. You’ve somehow manage to become
the third wheel on a bicycle you built. It’s like before Dave was here you and
Rose perfectly balanced each other out in most every way. Then, causality
dropped Dave onto Rose’s lap and everything tipped.
Sometimes you wish you didn’t love them so much so you could just be happy for
them.
Sometimes you wish it was a little bit easier to let them just enjoy each
other’s company.
You don’t mention it to them. You know, like always, that you’re just acting
stupid by comparison. It’s not hard to be stupid around those two..
* * * *
Your salvation is 3:01-4:15 on Tuesdays and Thursdays. A week or so after Dave
joined your lives he found out that your school offered a photography club and
he took the opportunity to bodily drag you and Rose there with him. You aren’t
very good at it. Neither is Rose, thankfully, but since it’s an after school
club and not a class Mrs. B, the photography teacher, doesn’t really mind if
you produce terrible work just as long as you don’t break the cameras.
Dave. on the other hand, excels at it. He just has a way of naturally knowing
what will look good - he barely even has to try. It would be a bit frustrating
to deal with if it weren’t for his subject matter. Dave really likes to take
pictures of you. His flickr site is absolutely full of you - pictures of you
posed in front of studio lights or laying in a pile of laundry that’s been on
the floor of Rose’s room for a week, or even just sitting in front of your
computer or a pile of books to study.
Dave talks a lot but never really says much. His photography is the best set of
his shoes you can step in to, and looking from his point of view you learn a
lot about Dave. He’s got a lot of love in him, and plenty of it is reserved
just for you.
In his photos you look . . . beautiful. There’s not really any other word for
it. You eyes are far brighter than they could ever be in real life, you hair is
soft and shiny, and the light splays delicate shadows across your face that
shape your features just right. There are pictures of Rose, too, but not a lot.
There’s a tacit agreement between the three of you that Rose more or less
doesn’t want pictures of herself right now - it’s an awkward time, physically,
and she never quite looks the way she wants. You can’t understand - Rose is
beautiful! But you can sympathize.
Dave looks at the world and sees beauty and at the heart of it is you and that
alone is enough to keep things intact. Enough for you to keep dragging him and
Rose to back alley diners and earlybird movies for some admittedly over the top
PDA and grinding. Enough for things to work.
* * * *
Things progress. Eventually, Dave invites you and Rose back to his place to
meet his brother. He doesn’t let on to it verbally, but you can tell by the
soft drumming of his hand on his leg as you climb up to the Strider penthouse
that this is a big deal for him. Dave, in his own way, was much harder to crack
open than Rose. Rose was blunt and sarcastic; she said what she needed to and
kept everything else quiet but she never really buried it in the way Dave did.
Everything is a joke or a non-issue with Dave. It’s hard, sometimes, just to
get him to enhance his rambling with any genuine feelings.
“Home sweet home, welcome to Casa Del Strider. Please keep all hands, feet and
other limbs inside the vehicle at all times and DO NOT for the love of god feed
any of the wildlife. The wildlife being the gigantic man-ape that eats
literally anything nontoxic you bring in the door like I swear to god if you
drew a picture of a hamburger he’d eat the crayons. Basically what I’m saying
is hold on to your lunches ladies and gents we’ve got an animal in the house. I
mean it’s not like he’s going to steal your lunch money or anything - do people
even still GET lunch money? Everything’s electronic now god damn. How am I
supposed to bully freshmen? Get them to enter their pin codes for me in line at
the school cafeteria? What a joke. Modern technology is basically ruining the
traditional hierarchy of public educa-”
“Dave,” Rose says.
“Yeah,” Dave says.
“Where should we put down our things?”
“Oh uhh . . . just anywhere in my room I guess, not like this place isn’t a
fucking disaster zone already. Here, this door.”
Dave’s room is almost exactly what you’d expect. His off-beige carpet is barely
visible under the tangling of wires connecting his laptop to the wall to his
turntables to the speakers in the corner to god knows what, and his bed is
nothing but a twin mattress propped up on cinderblocks. You flop onto it and
toss your backpack onto the least crowded patch of floor and your butt sinks
comfortably into the foam. Memory foam. Dave has a mattress that must have run
almost two thousand dollars propped up on cinderblocks.
This, you think, is the pinnacle of the Strider experience.
The one surprise is the birds. There are at least four of them, which,
technically, is not a phenomenally large amount of birds. It is, however, a
contextually large amount of birds. They’re massive crows and they act
completely at home in Daves room. He aims a kick at one and it hops deftly out
of the way, seemingly unperturbed.
“God damned birds, what do they even want from me.”
“They can help it, Dave!” You place your hand on his shoulder. “They saw your
feathery haircut and immediately accepted you as one of their own. You belong
to the bird family now.”
“Well that doesn’t sound like much of a life, I kind of have shit to do besides
shit, you feel me? I guess I can’t refuse though I am the chosen one, Dave
Strider, savior of birds. Birdkin. I’ll have to let everyone on my blog know
that I’m otherkin now I’m not sure how my fans will take that.”
“Dave, all of your fans are right here and we’re taking your avian transition
quite well.” Rose chips in helpfully.
“Rude, Lalonde.”
Somewhere in the house, a door slams. Dave tenses and whips his sword out of
his sylladex. Footsteps. The bedroom door swings open.
“Cool your shit, Dave, I’m just here to ask if you guys want pizza or thai
food.”
Bro Strider is tall and lanky. He’s unkempt in a bizarrely intentional way; no
one’s hair can look like that without trying, and the popped collar, jeans, and
spats combo could never be worn unironically. Your father would cringe.
“Um, pizza please Mr. Strider!” You request. “I’m kind of allergic to peanuts”
“‘Kind of allergic?’ You’re either allergic or you’re not. Is this a real
allergy or is this one of those bullshit fad diets like no gluten.” His voice
does not change it’s tone once. You aren’t sure if you like this bizarre,
bespectacled man.
“No I am fully one hundred percent allergic! I’ll die and everything, I swear.”
“Hm. Clever. Give me an answer I can’t test. I try to slip you a peanut,
nothing happens, but what if it does? Someone calls an ambulance and suddenly
I’m the bad guy.”
“Oh my god Bro, just screw off and order some pizza. You don’t need to try and
poison every friend I bring over.” Dave whines.
Bro Strider ruffles your hair.
“Don’t get your knickers in a twist man, I’m not gonna poison your boyfriend.
And you, kid.” He directs his attention to you. “None of that Mister Strider
bullshit, aight? I’m not that old yet.”
He tosses one of his weird, long-nosed puppets at Dave as he walks out and the
door slams shut again. Dave screams and kicks the puppet towards Rose, who
takes his freakout as an opportunity to stuff the offending toy into her
backpack without him noticing. She winks at you, and you laugh.
* * * *
The rest of your Junior year brings steady waves of change that crest into
comfortable routine. Your school works on a block schedule, making it possible
to graduate at the end of the year. The guidance counselor tells Dave and Rose
that they would be ideal candidates - they’re both already so focused and get
fantastic grades. If they just buckle down a bit, she says, they could be out a
year early. Dave and Rose delve deeper into their own interests; Dave takes
photo as an elective, film class, and video journalism. Rose takes AP english
and enrols in the psychology class offered by the local community college. You
drag yourself to pace behind them, putting your effort into earning enough
credits to graduate with them.
It’s nice. You and Rose continue to star in Dave’s films and portraits. Dave
helps check Rose’s grammar on her assignments, and you tell her which parts you
think flow nicely. Dave even takes the time to describe his dreams from the
past night to the two of you so Rose can explain exactly which subconscious
motifs are metaphors for penises. You aren’t sure which of them gets more
enjoyment out of this.
You love seeing their passion in life. You wish it is something you had for
yourself. You think about it sometimes in the quiet moments between laying down
and falling asleep. Kids your age are thinking about college majors, Dave and
Rose included. You don’t know what you’re going to do with your life. You don’t
know what you’re going to do tomorrow - but to be honest, that’s half the fun.
The only classes you really click with are math and your composition class.
Math is simple - there are different ways to do things, but no matter what
there’s always a right answer. Black and white, plain as day. Composition is
far more free form, but it’s soothing in its own right. All you do it put
together patterns of little black dots and it turns into something beautiful
when you’re done. It’s a nice way to pass the time.
* * * *
Dave and Rose turn seventeen and then winter melts back into spring and the
school year creeps closer to an end and its your birthday too.
And then it’s prom.
Between your three families, you certainly aren’t lacking for money, so you buy
new suits and Rose gets a new dress and you go out to dinner and rent a limo
and Mom slips a hotel key and business card into your pocket with a sly wink.
Your dates look fantastic. Dave, who you’ve never really seen in anything more
formal than a button up and jeans, wears a sleek, black, perfectly tailored
suit with a crimson tie. Rose’s dress is elegant and beautiful, just like she
is, resting over her collarbone on two plum colored straps and swooping around
her ankles. She wears elbow lengths gloves too, so she doesn’t have to bother
with the concealer you all normally use to cover up your names when it’s too
hot for long sleeves.
You drink. There’s spiked punch going around but none for you - you’re driving.
You dance. You end up slow dancing with both of them. There’s no shortage of
laughter when you tuck your head underneath Dave’s chin and wrap your arms
around his waist and your feel his hand tighten on you as people snicker around
you. There are things in life worth caring about but what people in High School
think of you is not one of them. You FULLY intend to enjoy yourself, thank you
very much.
“”C’mon dude, haters make you famous, right?” you whisper into his ear.
“Yeah but these losers barely even qualify as hater-tier its a bit
disappointing to be honest. How do I get them to call me a faggot on anon so I
can flippantly dismiss them with a well-timed reaction gif and look great in
comparison.” His voice quivers a bit as he talks.
“If it would make you feel better I’ll call you a raging homo on tumblr.com,
Dave.”
“Nah,” he runs his hand down your back, spiraling his thumb on the base of your
spine and you press into him. “You’re a terrible liar, everyone would catch on
instantly.”
“Pfft yeah, sure! If I’m so bad of a liar then why did I have you TOTALLY
convinced that I like you”
“Another terrible lie via the supreme weenie himself. You can’t get enough of
me or my hot ass and mile long legs, just admit it.”
You chuckle into his collarbone and he laughs back at you, a light, breathy
thing. It smells sharp: vodka and Hi-C blended with orange sherbert.
“Oh man you so owned me because you are totally right about both of those
things. Except for not!! Because your butt is totally flat and lame. Oooh,
burn.” He groans at you.
“Dude that was the worst burn and also my butt is great but I know you’re too
stubborn to take my word for it so we’re just going to ask Rose.” He leads you
off the dance floor and the slow song begins to peter out into more generic pop
bass thumping. Rose is leaning by the punch bowl, sipping delicately from a red
solo cup and pausing occasionally to tip a flask from her purse into it.
“Rooooooose,” Dave whines. “Rose.”
She holds up a finger. Pauses. Makes a show of downing FAR too much of her
drink in one sip.
“Alright, I am now officially ready for whatever you have to say to me.” She
says, slurring her ‘S’s just the tiniest bit..
“Whose ass is better mine or John’s”
“John’s. Next question.”
“Yes, I told you!” You shout.
“Aww come on this is a load of bullshit. I demand an appeal on the grounds that
there was in no way in hell enough criteria for this ass-off.”
“David dearest it is really quite simple - Jonathan here just has more cushion
for the pushin - your bony posterior really isn’t just as satisfying to stick
it in. You do have better legs though, so find some solace in that”
“Fuck, fine. I guess I’ll take it.” Dave sighs.
And suddenly it occurs to you that instead of sitting in a loud ballroom
surrounded by judgemental peers you could be alone in a big bed in a fancy
hotel room in various states of undress with your two favorite people.
You get in close enough for them to hear your voice over the din of partying
and say “Hey, do you guys want to get out of here?”
“Oh gods of the furthest ring, I thought I’d have to be the one to crash the
party. Let’s GO.” And she hobbles drunkenly in the direction of the doors. Dave
follows suit, definitely less tipsy than Rose, but still very obviously having
to put some conscious thought into walking. You manage, just barely, to get
them to the door before Dave shouts.
“Oh my god wait.”
“What? What could possibly be so important that it serves speaking within the
hallowed halls of this suburban hell dungeon?” Rose whines.
“We didn’t get pictures Rose. Rose. We need pictures. Rose.”
She whines again.
“Oh man yeah pictures! Sorry Rose but you are totally out voted because Mom and
Dad will KILL us if we don’t get photos and I am not about that life. You are
just going to have to suck it up!”
“Fine, lets make this quick so we can go pass out on Dave’s couch and watch
shitty movies. I want to take these heels off as soon as possible.” But it
comes out more like posshibul, and the three of you trail off to the studio
light setup in various states of drunkenness.
It turns out to be Dave who takes off his shoes first. About ten or so pictures
in, Rose bends over and vomits directly onto him and you all decide that it’s
time to leave now, but the pictures you get before that are definitely going to
cause a stir. The three of you all crammed into a shot that was obviously meant
for two person couples. You and Dave rolled up your sleeves and Rose pulled her
gloves off and for the first time ever you honestly you were just completely
upfront about your relationship. You just don’t care what people will think of
you.
Why should you?
In a few weeks you’ll be gone and none of these people will ever matter again.
* * * *
Despite Rose’s encore performance in front of the camera when you tell them
about the hotel room they both INSIST on going, so the three of you pile into
your station wagon (Rose sitting on Dave’s lap in shotgun because they wouldn’t
compromise) smelling like vomit, teenage sweat, and the heavy cologne of senior
boy. The receptionist gives you a strange look but if you shell out the kind of
money Mom shelled out for this hotel suite, you’re either with the mafia or
rich enough that you could buy out the mafia, so she doesn’t ask many
questions.
Sitting gracefully on top of the pillow-covered california king is three
suitcases. God bless that madwoman. Inside the suitcases are pajamas
(comfortable but classy - where did she even get them? how did she know all of
your sizes?), clothes for the next day, and approximately one metric fuckton of
condoms. Rose peels off her puke-soaked dress and unlatches her bra, and the
silicon breast forms she stuffs with plop bouncily onto the bed. Dave picks up
her bra and squeezes the padding.
“Holy shit Rose this is like 3 solid inches of foam where do you even GET a bra
like this.”
“You seemed to be enjoying it last time you were groping me, Strider. Fear not
though, soon the good fairy will visit and grant me some magnificent tits and
I’ll take you out to the ball in my pumpkin carriage. And then we’ll . . .
we’ll . . .” And she falls down, sniggering and stumbling on her words. She
looks so completely ridiculous. Makeup perfectly applied, sparkly diamond
earrings still hanging out from underneath her hair, but completely naked aside
from her cute purple underwear and a pair of black stockings, laying flat on
this gigantic bed. You burst out laughing and collapse next to her.
“I love you guys.”
Chapter End Notes
     they do not bang in the hotel because rose is drunk and john is a
     responsible young man. Instead, dave showers and he gets out and rose
     and john are already asleep so he just blogs from his phone. That's
     the canon ending to this chapter. Picture it.
***** Suddenly I See *****
Chapter Summary
     Look, over there - it's Jade Harley
Chapter Notes
     Well THAT took awhile . . . haha, sorry. A(NS)BLIDTE update comes
     next, then hopefully NOT in another 5 month you'll have the end of
     this story.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Her face is a map of the world
Is a map of the world
You can see she's a beautiful girl
She's a beautiful girl
And everything around her is a silver pool of light
The people who surround her feel the benefit of it
It makes you calm
She holds you captivated in her palm
* * * *
 
“Just so you know we’ve only got fifteen mmmhpph-!”
“Shh. Shh god not now. No talking until you’re done.”
You give Rose as good of an evil eye as you can, which is, admittedly, not very
good at all because having your face buried between someone’s legs isn’t the
best vantage point for such a gesture. Normally this is the time when you’d
start biting. You decide, however, to be a bit nicer than your partners because
you know that Rose is still sensitive from surgery.
Instead, you apply this information a bit differently. Considering that Rose
had a penis until a your most frequent lovemaking session, you’re not
incredibly skilled in this area, then again, neither is she, but nonetheless
you make up for it by increasing your enthusiasm tenfold. You shove your face
even deeper into her thighs, dragging your tongue up from the top of her
clitoris and down, feeling it dip and catch on the new and still unfamiliar
folds of her body. You feel her hips clench around you and her fingers card
through your hair and Dave’s hands are on your back and everything is just ahh
. . . .
He drags his hands up and down you slowly. They traverse across your back chest
and stretch all the way up to your neck, resting lightly against it with just
the slightest pressure, just enough for you to know they’re there and it drives
you crazy, he drives you crazy. You moan. You can’t help it. Right into Rose’s
folds you let out wild choked out moan, and it’s apparently a big hit because
you hear Dave whisper a soft ‘Fuck’ from right about you and his thrusting
speeds up. You feel your entire body start to tremble around him as the
stimulation on your prostate begins to overwhelm you. Ten minutes left.
“Lalonde how are you not going ballistic at these hot yaois happening in front
of you.” Dave quips on a particularly hard thrust.
The three of you should certainly prioritize getting to class on time over
fucking each other’s brains out but in moments like this it seems to matter
much less. You don’t have a lecture to attend for another hour and you DID warn
them. You do them the only favor you can think of and try to speed things up.
Rose is wet. Wetter than you thought a cunt got but it’s not like you’ve had
much experience with them and god do you regret that a little bit. You stop
licking and focus less on the ‘eating’ aspect of oral and more on the ‘out’,
slipping your tongue into her as deep as it will go and dragging it back
experimentally. She keens and grinds herself against your face and so you take
that as a sign to keep going. Rose is one for subtlety everywhere but the
bedroom.
“Oh holy shit I love having a vagina,” she moans.
“To be honest I am enjoying it too but you and Dave are gonna be really la-”
“Shit!” Dave cries out as he comes, suddenly and without warning, right into
you.
“Holy hell dude a bit of a warning first!”
“Sorry ugh oh my god. I would have warned you if I had any myself.” He pants
softly and pulls out of you, flopping onto your back and nuzzling at your neck
softly.
“Wow you’ve got such a hair trigger.” you snigger.
“Shut up, not all of us spent our teen years masturbating as frequently as you
did.”
“I wasn’t masturbating I was banging Rose!”
“I’d appreciate it if you kept that up now!” She cuts in. “As enjoyable as it
is to watch you two yaoi each other, nobody is currently in the process of
getting me off and it’s really fucking annoying.”
“Okay geez fine!! Not like I’M being gotten off either. Just saying.” You huff.
“Aight no it’s totally cool bro, I got this. I’m totally gonna jerk you off bro
it’s gonna be great.” Dave says in between pressing kisses and nips to your
neck.
He tangles his fingers in your hair and shoves you back down into Roses lap
where you immediately pick up your earlier pace. Her legs start trembling and
her breath hitches on every inhale and god she’s gorgeous. Dave still has your
head held tight but his other hand reaches around you to grab your dick which
you haven't been paying NEARLY enough attention to and he’s rubbing his thumb
on your head and twisting around your shaft in a way thats just perfect and
he’s still kissing at your neck oh god oh god.
It’s too much too focus on so you choose to just lay back and let all of the
sensations around you happen. Rose’s moans and Dave’s hand and you in the
middle shivering and shaking, it all just blends at the seams into one big
trembling mess and you just feel everything, all at once. Rose gets tighter and
slicker around your tongue and hear breathing slows from gasps into slow,
delicate gasps and her hand slips it’s way on top of Dave and you guess that’s
what an orgasm is like for her because she slowly slides your head back and
lays breathless on the bed.
“Free mouth, nice.” Says Dave before he yanks you up and switches positions so
that you’re now straddling his lap and facing him. He goes right for your mouth
and you can tell that he’s tasting Rose on you and seeing how familiar but
foreign it is at the same time. His hand is hot and exactly rough enough and
still furiously jacking you off and you’re so close that you’re pretty much
melting.
“That’s it, i’m getting back in on this bonerfest. Make some room.” And Rose
spoons behind you, her small breasts pressing warmly into your back as she
sucks hickeys onto your kiss-reddened neck. “This is officially a No Homo
situation now that this threesome has a hot honey in the middle.”
Dave stops making out with you, of course, to say something obnoxious to Rose.
“But wait, John’s in the middle here doesn’t that make him the sexy babe?”
“Im always in the middle of you two horny jerks!” You yell, “Someday I’ll be
dead and you two are going to have to get each other off and then where will we
be, huh?”
“Gross I don’t want to bang Rose when she’s all old and wrinkly and close to
death. I’ll just mourn you in celibacy. Or bang Jade. I wonder when we’re gonna
meet her.”
“Seconded!” Rose chirps, just before Dave’s phone starts to beep aggressively.
“Oh shit we’re gonna be late.” He says.
“WOW, REALLY?”
“Shut up John this is serious business okay.”
“It wasn’t so serious when YOU were the one with the boner! If you two
seriously leave me high and dry again I will totally finish myself off onto
your clean laundry. And then I’ll watch you try to figure out how to get the
washing machine to start.”
“Okay okay geez. Help me out with this Rose.”
And just like that they go from snarky to sexy and they’re making out over your
shoulder. Rose wraps her hands around Daves and they touch you in tandem and
that right there is enough to have you trembling and whining, spilling over
their hands as the three of you falls exhausted against the comforter.
* * * *
By the time Dave and Rose finally manage to stumble out of the apartment half-
dressed they’re already late for their classes, conveniently located on the
complete opposite side of the campus from where you live but once again you did
warn them and they are adults and you really can’t be held responsible if that
means that they choose sex over school.
Your lecture doesn’t start for another 45 minutes or so, so you actually take
the time to shower, shave, and re-dress yourself in something clean, and maybe
scrounge up some food. Sometimes you’re tempted not to shave and let yourself
grow into a bit of stubble, you know Dave in particular likes that, but also
you are not quite ready for your father to die of filial shame yet so you
settle for keeping your face nice and smooth.
You are NOT shaving your head though. Nuh uh. Sorry dad.
It’s a beautiful day outside and you’ve still got plenty of time to meander
your way down to the lecture hall so you walk instead. The sun is shining and
people on bikes and longboards swoop in every direction, parting the sea of
pedestrians like you with a sort of practiced ease, like the whole student body
is an interconnected organism. An aspen grove, or a coral reef.
This lecture must be a bit more popular than you anticipated. People are
pouring in to the lecture hall, and you think this is the most people you’ve
ever seen in the Molecular Biology wing at one time. most open to anyone
lectures consist of barely published academics fresh out of four year
universities desperately trying to network with the next generation of
Important People. They don’t tend to interest much of the general populace, and
you tend to find yourself one among a few sparse crowds.You aren’t sure if that
many of them particularly interest you either. In fact, you have no idea WHAT
interests you. It’s late in to your freshman year and you still haven’t chosen
a major. Maybe that’s why you attend so many of these eclectic lectures.
Students who must have beelined directly from the chem labs to the hall shuffle
in wearing scorched and stained white coats, a few particularly frazzled
looking people even have goggles still propped up on their foreheads like a
bizarre new fashion trend. They clump together and find a cluster of open seats
like some strange but highly intelligent flock of birds.
You’re here alone, which most people tend not to do, so you shove your way past
the throngs of milling people into the more frontward section of the hall where
there are still a few individual seats left. You slip into the nearest open row
and settle in between an incredibly tall dreadlocked girl and an androgynous
looking person with what is probably the most expensive laptop you’ve ever
seen. You take a moment to wonder why so many weirdos flock to this particular
school, and yes, you do include yourself on that list.
Androgynous Laptop has about three different google docs open and is
frantically switching between them to type notes about something or other in
three different languages, one appearing to be Latin. Dreadlocks, however, has
nothing in front of her but a Squiddles lunch box literally overflowing with
colored pencils, and a sketchbook with a page of what appears to be designs for
a nuclear reactor filled in. There are little doodles of smiley faces and
puppies in the empty space between the parts that are labeled.
You feel a tiny bit out of your league.
You open your laptop and fiddle around while the stragglers settle into their
seats, briefly logging into Rose’s facebook to post a few rude statuses about
things she likes, and then you open a document for notes on today’s lecture.
You normally try to make a brief outline just so you can organize things
better, but today you have NO idea where to start, so you just leave everything
blank save the title. You’re honestly not entirely sure what ‘Ectobiology’ is
but that’s the fun part, isn’t it? It seems interesting enough.
A VERY old looking man walks up to the podium, dressed like he’s headed out on
safari complete with those bucket hats archaeologists wear and introduces
himself as “Professor-, wait no, I’m not actually a professor of anything
anymore, sorry! Haha!” and then just tells you all you can call him ‘grandpa’
or ‘Hass’ in an accent you physically can not place. You aren’t very sure about
this.
Your initial assessment of ‘Grandpa ‘Hass the Flame’ appear to be completely
baseless. Fifteen minutes into his impossibly complicated spiel consisting of
countless diagrams and a few tubes of peculiar slime passed around the crowd,
you find yourself frantically typing just to keep up with the barrage of
information. A quick glance to your left tells you that Androgynous Laptop is
in a very similar situation. Dreadlocks, however, has just flipped to a new
page in her sketchbook and is drawing what looks to be herself, but with floofy
white cat ears. It’s a pretty decent drawing and sort of adorable.
Once you begin to understand ectobiology you realize that it actually might be
one of the most fascinating things you’ve ever heard of. It’s a branch of
genetic engineering that may actually involve not only teleportation, but time
travel. Wow. And, he’s offering paid internships in the Skaianet - (Skaianet!!
You’ve got connections there) - laboratories to ‘anyone with enough passion,
drive, and scientific know how’ to be able to assist him.
This could be it. This could be something that interests you enough to commit
to.
You glance around and see that the other few hundred people in the auditorium
are having the same idea. Everyone save for Ms. Dreadlocks right next to you is
on the edge of their seats, eyes bright and curious and hanging on Hass’s every
word.
Hass finishes up the lecture and things begin to wind down and you take the
opportunity to peek back at Dreadlocks while she’s drawing because wow she’s
pretty. Her hair is long enough to drape down to her mid back, and she’s got
thick, round, coke-bottle glasses with lime green frames and buck teeth poking
out of her mouth that could probably rival your own. She wears a white t-shirt
with a picture of an atom on it, what appears to be a khaki cargo skirt,
complete with pockets that look large enough to hold an encyclopedia. She’s got
some of the darkest skin you’ve ever seen on a person. When you finally look
back up to her face you realize she’s staring at you. God damn it.
“Hey!”
“Oh, um! Hi - sorry I was just. Looking at you.” Nice, John. Smooth as fresh
winter ice.
“I know, I noticed!” She smiles at you. Pauses. Waits for you to go on. Her
voice is a bit strange.
“So uh, pretty neat stuff right?”
She nods enthusiastically and her dreadlocks whip around her like tentacles and
you’re honestly surprised her glasses haven’t fallen off.
“Ectobiology is just FASCINATING! It’s going to change the world some day, you
know!”
“Oh, believe me, I don’t doubt it,” you agree. “But if you’re so into it why
were you just . . . doodling? I mean I’m not trying to be rude but you didn’t
even really seem like you were paying attention.”
She grins.
“No, I wasn’t. I don’t really need to at this point, I just come to these
lectures as a show of support for my Grandpa!”
“Oh! Wait is he like. Literally your Grandpa or do you just call him that.”
“No, no,” she says. “He’s literally my Grandpa! We go around touring different
colleges to see if we can recruit any bright young minds for our cause!”
“Is this a cult? It kind of sounds like a cult . . .”
“Nope!” She assures you. “Not technically. Grandpa’s kind of a weird guy
though!”
“Wow, REALLY?”
“Oh ha ha! Really funny!” You can tell shes not actually mad though because she
never loses the little bit of a grin she has. Just enough to leave the tips of
her teeth hanging out.
“So wow, you really just get to go around doing science with your grandad and a
bunch of other scientists doing cool science stuff?”
“Yep! Exactly. We’re going to change the world some day, I’m sure of it.” She
quirks an eyebrow. “So, what do you say? Think you’re interested? Do you think
you have what it takes to be part of . . . . THE FUTURE!”
You gasp dramatically and she hums the music from 2001: Space Odyssey. You make
an executive decision that this manic pixie science furry is going to be your
new best friend.
“I’m definitely interested! As for having what it takes, probably not to be
honest!” You laugh a bit nervously. “I’m not even a science major or anything,
I’m still undecided. And also not very smart.”
“You better pick soon! You’re a sophomore, right?”
“No,” You shake your head. “Still a freshman! I just took a gap year. Or
three.”
“Pfft! Nice. What did you even do for three years?’
“Well. My, um. Friends and I graduated a year early-”
“A year early?” She cuts you off, her accent becoming a bit heavier as she
starts to yell “And you told me you weren’t smart!”
“I’m not, really, I swear! I’m just really handsome and funny and humble.” You
insist.
Suddenly, there’s a crash and like a drum kit being dropped off a ten story
building and you jump about 6 feet out of your chair.
“Oh dear!” Calls Hass loudly. “It’s a shame that I don’t have any strapping
young grandchildren to assist this poor old man in carrying delicate and
valuable machinery!”
“COMING GRANDPA!” She hollers back. “Listen, I’ve gotta go, okay? But you
should totally think about joining the program!”
“Oh, man I’m not sure I-”
“Listen!” She rolls her eyes and smooshes your cheeks into your face,
displacing your glasses in the process. “Don’t be stupid, okay? What do you
have to lose by looking into this, huh?”
“I-”
“No! Shoosh! Here, I’ll do you one better. Are you free tonight?”
“Yeah, but-”
“Okay! Perfect.” She pauses to tear a page out of her sketchbook and quickly
jots down a time and an address. “Come meet me tonight, we’ll talk!”
“Um, okay! Sounds good. I’ll see you there.”
“Awesome! Bye!”
“Bye -” And as she’s running off in the opposite direction you realize you
never actually got her name.
* * * *
By the time you end up stumbling home after the rest of your classes, Dave and
Rose are already there, dave-and-roseing about in the living room. Essentially,
that means they’ve shed all of their supplies from the day onto the floor and
have somehow found a way to sit on top of each other at the same time.
Dave is whining which means that Rose must have been the one to pick the TV
today. The door clicks shut behind you and they both perk up and turn to you.
“John thank god you’re here and Rose’s reign of terror will finally come to an
end. She won’t let me watch Project Runway.” Dave detangles himself from Rose
and shoves her on the floor. “Also I’m hungry.”
“We can watch Project Runway when I’m done with this documentary about guinea
worms.” She grabs Dave’s ankles and drags him down on top of her. “Also, I’m
hungry as well.”
“Fuck off Rose you’re only watching this horrific parasite shitshow to piss me
off. You know how grossed out I am by the idea of insects growing inside of me
like I’m a god damned anthill and so of course you gotta make me watch some
indian guy with a boil the size of a grapefruit get a worm pulled out of him
over the course of like a fucking week. Seriously, I know you like Project
Runway, this is literally just to spite me.”
“Well yes, of course it is. What do you expect when you trade remote privileges
for a quickie?”
“I expected you to act like a human being which I am now realizing was a
terrible mistake.”
“Dave,” she huffs. “If watching this really made you as uncomfortable as you’re
acting, you always had the option of leaving the room. But no, that would have
required that you stopped grinding desperately against my hip and you seemed
decently opposed to being interrupted.”
“Dude,” you say. “Were you seriously dry humping Rose during a documentary
about parasitic worms?”
“Okay, yes! Maybe a little,” he groans.
“Oh my god Dave.” You shake your head slowly and Rose just rolls her eyes at
you.
“Listen,” She says, “The case of Dave’s parasitic boner is no longer the most -
pun intended - pressing issue. What we really should be worrying about is when
you’re going to make dinner. And what will it be.”
You sit down on the couch and use Dave and Rose, who have conveniently elected
not to get off the floor, as a footrest.
“No dinner tonight guys, sorry! I’ve got to go out and meet someone.”
“What,” Dave asks. “Who the hell are you meeting you don’t have friends who
aren’t us.”
“Okay, first of all. Yes I do. Second of all. Shut up. Third of all, she’s a
girl I met in my lecture today.”
“Ooh, hey Rose, John’s got a new girlfriend.”
“He’d better not, because if he does I’m no longer proofreading his essays.
Have fun repeating music history 101..”
“Oh my god. You two suck!! You’re the worst!!! Both of you are terrible,
terrible little children. I’m gonna go eat cereal and then talk to a cute girl
I met today.” You shove them out of the way with your foot and they choose then
to get up, following you from the living room into the kitchen, which was
pretty much part of the living room, like stray ducklings.
“Are you seriously ditching us to eat dinner with a complete stranger?” Dave
asks.
“Listen, John I respect that you have your own life,” Rose says, putting her
hand on your shoulder. “But seriously. I am so hungry.”
“You two are adults!” You flick her on the nose. “You can feed yourselves. Now
if you’ll excuse me I want some cheerios.”
You shove past them and very deliberately and aggressively pull the cabinet
open and grab your cereal, pouring yourself a bowl. They, being the independent
adults that they most certainly are, instead of going back to their own
business sit down at the rickety kitchen table and stare at you.
You stare back, switching between meeting Dave and Rose’s gaze. Rose reaches
forward. Grabs your wrist. You’re not sure what she’s trying to do until she
tugs your arm back down, filling up another spoonful of cereal. This is a
standoff, now. You do nothing as she lifts the spoon to her mouth to take an
almost impressively large swallow of your cheerios.
You do, however, laugh when she makes a disgusted face and splutters.
“Really, John?” She asks.
“Wait what did he do to the cereal” Dave gives the bowl a tentative little push
like a cat with a feather. “God, please tell me he didn’t put mint extract in
the milk again that was THE WORST breakf-”
“No, but it almost might have been preferable if he did. At least it would mix
things up a bit. These are plain cheerios. Plain, unflavored oat circles
floating in milk flavored water.” She bemoans.
“It’s two percent milk!” You say.
“What,” Dave cuts in. “You mean like, not even honey nut or anything?
“No, not even honey nut. Honestly I’m disgusted?”
“Listen! Not everyone wants to eat insane amounts of sugar for every meal okay?
I am just trying to have a HEALTHY SNACK before I go to an IMPORTANT MEETING.”
You huff. “You know, you guys could stand to eat a little bit better.”
“Honestly that is good advice and if you were my dad I would really consider
taking it.” Dave says.
“I pretty much am your dad to be honest dude. At least the closest thing either
of you have ever had.”
“So you see yourself as a father figure to your sexual partners?” Rose asks
you, faux-pondersome with her hand on her chin.
“Ugh, no. No, no no. Don’t make this gross.”
“It’s okay, John, we’re all already disgusting perverted freaks in the eyes of
society.We might as well go all out, yo. Me and Rose can buy some maryjanes and
plaid skirts and you can just go to town on us.”
“You’re both terrible and I hate you! I’m leaving, good bye!”
Rose calls after you as you slam the door shut. “Bye, daddy!”
- - - -
The place the girl from your lecture has you meet her is a seedy-yet-trendy out
of the way diner straddling the outskirts of downtown and the beginnings of the
campus. You arrive there at the threshold of the dinner rush, when the people
just start to trickle in from their jobs or their classes, looking for a meal,
but not quite getting the atmosphere you'd get later at night. It's pretty much
exactly what you'd expect from a cute, hip, nuclear physicist. The windows are
barely visible through the tangle of leaves and vines trailing out of the
planters resting on the sill. The light streams in patchy, and chlorophyll
green. The rest of the darkness is filled in by a few mismatched lamps
scattered wherever there are enough outlets to allow them. The walls are
kitschy too – painted with overlapping patterns of swirls and stars, or
psychedelic scenes of people eating overly-rendered burgers and fries. You
think you like it.
She's there waiting for you when you walk in, and by the state of the corner
booth she managed to snag, she's either been there a while, or she works fast.
Pencils and pens and a laptop and textbooks are spread out around her, and she
seems deep in thought as her eyes flick between them. She looks similar to how
she did this morning – the same thick dreads pulled back, the same deep umber
skin and bright eyes – her clothes are the only things that have changed. She's
switched from the long sleeves in khakis into something a little more fun
looking. She wears a light blue crop top and a deep gray maxi skirt and wow,
have you mentioned how pretty she is? The most shocking thing, though, is what
you were missing underneath those sleeves. Her hands themselves are covered in
tiny little rubber bands varying in color and width, and down her wrists are
similar rubber bracelets covering up about half her forearms.
The others halves are covered in names.
More than you have – more by far – penned on her skin in the almost birthmark-
like pinkish brown you'd expect on someone with skin as dark as hers. You try
to stop yourself from staring, and look at her face instead, and you find she's
looking back at you. Very patiently.
“Hey there!” She says, in that impossible to place accent of hers.
“Hey!” You say “I was just – um -”
“Looking at my names?” She grins.
“Yeah! Sorry. Again.”
“It's fine! If I was interested in privacy I wouldn't be wearing a sleeveless
shirt. Also, they're not actually marks anyway! They're tattoos. Name of
everyone I've ever dated!” She stretches her arm out better so you can see it
and you take a seat across from her on the worn green vinyl bench.
“Tattoos? But why?”
She shrugs.
“I think the whole soulmate thing is kind of dumb to be honest! I mean no
offense to anyone but the idea that you need someone else to make your life
complete and that nothing before that even matters, it just seems like a waste
of some great years!”
“Yeah that makes a lot of sense. I mean I have a girlfriend and everything, and
she's great, and I totally love her, but it's not like she's the only thing in
life worth living for you know? I guess I still want to do something cool with
my life but it feels like all the big deals in life, like and movies and stuff,
are about finding your soul mate!! It's totally dumb.”
“Yes, exactly!” She slaps her hand down on the table. “So that brings me to the
whole point of tonight! I think you'd be a perfect candidate for this
internship program. You've got a lot of soul!”
“You don't even know me – hell, you don't even know my name!” You insist. “How
can you say that I'd be perfect for your super smarty pants science job? What
if I was secretly really stupid.”
“I'm trusting my gut. It normally works out pretty well for me.” She hands you
a menu from a pile of papers at the end of the table. “So let's get started!
What actually IS your name?”
“It's John!” You answer.
“Nice to meet you John. I'm Jade.” And she sticks her hand out and your heart
stutters a little bit because Jade really isn't that common of a name.
“Wait,” You ask as you shake politely. Your hand is probably so clammy, oh
gosh.”Jade – Jade what?”
“Harley!” She answers, “Why do you ask?”
“I. Wow okay this is gonna be really ironic okay?”
“Wait wait wait. Your name isn't Egbert by any chance, is it?”
“Yeah!” You laugh. “Yeah. Yeah it is.”
“Omg!!” She says and she rolls the colorful bands from her wrist down her arm,
thrusting her wrist in your face. “Look! Omg!”
That’s your name, alright. And Rose’s. And Dave’s. Just where they should be.
“Woah . . .”
“So I guess we’re . . .” She giggles a bit, a bubbly little thing that builds
and builds and you’re laughing too and it’s a bit ridiculous, really, because
neither of you can stop.
“Yeah.” You manage to squeeze out between laughs.
And suddenly, subtly, her fingers have woven their way between yours, and the
two of you are leaning in across the table. One of her dreads comes untucked
and falls in front of her face and gently, delicately, (its been so long since
you’ve done this with someone new) you place it back behind her ear.
You can feel her breath on your face, and the warmth of her skin seeps into
yours, and her eyes lock into yours and -
your phone rings.
That’s Dave’s ringtone.
You groan and pull back because Dave doesn’t call unless he has something of
relative importance to say. Despite loving the sound of his own voice, he’s not
a huge fan of phone calls and prefers to just leave his rambling lines of
bright red nonsense on pesterchum for you to browse at your leisure.
“What is it, Dave?” You huff, and Jade perks up and grins like a maniac,
mouthing ‘is it him?’ and pointing to her wrist.
You nod. Roll your eyes.
“I missed you too thanks.” Says Dave. “Anyway, check your tumblr.”
“Really? THAT is why you called me?”
“Yes.”
“Ugh,” you sigh. “Okay, fine, I’ll check it. Just let me finish up what I’m
doing here first.”
“No, man, come on, just do me a solid.” He whines.
“Okay!! Fine! Jesus, Dave.”
“Haha, hell yeah. Call me back, okay?”
“No, why would I do that?”
“Haha,” He chuckles. “Just call me back. Talk to you soon okay babe, XO XO.”
And the line goes dead.
“Woah!! So you already know Dave?” Jade asks brightly. “But wait, I thought you
said you had a girlfriend? Or were you just saying that because you actually
had a boyfriend and you’re trying to keep things private.”
“Uh, a little bit of both actually?” You admit. “There’s Rose. She’s my
girlfriend. And Dave is my boyfriend. And now, you’re, um, whatever you want to
be I guess!”
“Oooh! Oh my gosh, wow, this is such a crazy amount of pressure tbh. Normally I
know people at least a little while before we start dating. But now everything
is sort of converging right here and it’s like, suddenly I get to date three
people!”
“Haha, yeah it is pretty crazy. I’ve known the two of them for years and I can
still barely handle it.”
“So what did Dave want?”
“Oh!” you whip your phone back out and pull open the tumblr mobile app. What a
piece of god damned trash. “He wanted me to check tumblr for some reason.
Nothing good probably.”
“You have a tumblr?” She asks, and she scooches around to your side of the
booth to look over your shoulder, leaning her head on you and draping herself
in a way that sort of reminds you of a sleepy puppy. “Lemme see!”
You have exactly one unread message. Oh joy.
“So we sort of just met and you don’t really know me or Dave at all so I am
just going to outright say that there is about a one hundred percent chance
this is going to be terrible.”
You read it. Jade snorts behind you.
This is anon cummies send this to five people for daddy cummies ;))) if you get
none back no cummies for chu >:( if you get one you get cummies X3 if you get
two or three you is a squirter if yous get five YOUS DADDY
“Yeeep! Pretty horrible, lol.”
“Yeah that’s about what I expected.” And then, you get a terribly wonderful
idea. “Wait, do you have any form of ID on you?”
“OOh, yeah I think so! Why do you ask?”
“We’re totally gonna prank the heck out of those two losers.”
“Haha, yes!” She grins back at you. “Is that something you guys do a lot?”
“Mostly me, to be honest. But yeah. Honestly we are all just kind of annoying
people, sorry.”
“Nooo! You all seem great. Totally great.”
“You don’t even know anything about Rose or Dave! Or me! We could all be axe
murderers or something.”
“Psh! I don’t believe that for a second. I have probably killed way more things
than all three of you put together.”
“Um-” she reaches underneath the booth and whips something out you didn’t
notice earlier - holy shit, that’s a gun. “UM” you repeat a bit louder this
time.
She cocks it.
“Check it out!” She makes a fake gunshot noise. “Pew pew pew! Pew!”
“Jade why do you have a gun in a restaurant.”
“I don’t ‘have a gun in a restaurant’ I happen to be in a restaurant, and I
also have my gun with me because I am not six years old anymore, John!” She
says, like YOU’RE the one in the wrong here.
“Jade that’s a fucking rifle! You don’t need that in a restaurant!”
“Grandpa was right,” she tsks, shaking her head and sending her dreads flapping
around like squiddle tentacles “city folk really just don’t understand.”
“Sorry for being such a city slicker and not bringing a deadly weapon into a
public dining area? I mean-” you stop for a minute. “Hold on a second we got
WAY off track.”
“OOh, right!” she says brightly. “We were gonna mess with Dave!”
“Okay okay, get out your license or something I’m gonna send him a snapchat of
us together. And don’t put that gun away he’ll totally pop a boner or something
if it’s in frame. Haha, what a weird dude.”
“Does he have a thing for guns or something?”
She roots through her bag and her pile of various and sundry school supplies on
the table and finally comes back with her passport, open to the page with her
name on it.
“Nah,” you say as you snap a quick picture of the passport, and then scoot next
to her on the booth to cram the two of you into one picture. “I think he is
just into getting his ass kicked.”
* * * *
You wake up to hands around your waist and on your face and hands looped around
your shoulders and far more hands than you normally feel. Your California King
feels filled to the brim and rough, textured hair rubs across your face.
You yawn.
You go back to sleep.
* * * *
Jade, like everyone else you’ve ended up with, is smart. Not smart like Rose,
though, with her flowery tongue and the way she can always beat you or Dave or
anyone at chess. Not like the way she can make herself seem big, seem to take
up an entire room with just her personality, illuminating everything around her
with just her words and a well timed smile. Not even smart in the way Dave is,
how he soaks up information like a sponge and how it seems he’s always spitting
up some bizarre fact he’s learned, wrapped in a loose rhyme, mumbling and
muttering to himself, never stopping, like some sort of clockwork library is
trapped in his head.
No, Jade is something else entirely.
She’s hard science and cold steel, a neon green radioactive hearted dynamo.
Rose and Dave are flighty and distracted in their own ways but still, they seem
more earthly, more grounded than Jade could ever be. She’s like a one woman
rocketship to outer space.
You find yourself enamoured with her in a way you haven’t been in years. It’s
your early fumblings with Rose after school, in the dark of her big empty
house. It’s the way Dave sort of shook when you first kissed him, so unsteady
and surprised. It’s fresh cut grass on the first day of summer, with a sort of
spark in the air like there’s a lightning storm coming. It feels so much more
intense than any of those things, though.
More adult. More complete, and powerful, but not threatening in any way.
You watch Jade slide an extra power cell into the prototype transportalizer to
give it an extra boost one day, while the two of you are working in the lab.
You think it’s a little bit like that.
Despite all of this, though, Jade never seems like anything but your friend.
When she first took you into the Skaianet sponsored laboratory on campus you
felt a little bit like you had cold water dumped on your head.
There was just so much. Machines and wires and glowing computer screens the
likes of which you’d never seen before, let alone known how to use. She showed
you, step by step, key by key, every button to press and when to press it. And
to her credit, you began to understand.
You chose your major that evening - molecular biology.
* * * *
It doesn’t take long for life to lull back into its usual pattern - it never
does. Jade switches between sleeping at the small house she used to stay in
with her Grandpa, falling asleep in the lab or her greenhouse, or settling in
with you and Rose and Dave at your apartment not far from the campus. You think
it’s a bit strange she doesn’t stay with the three of you more - only about 3
or 4 nights a week - but you know she’s busy and you can assume she has her
reasons.
You love it when she stays though.
She makes a wonderful buffer between Rose and Dave’s shenanigans while you cook
dinner. During the not nearly rare enough moments when the two of them bicker
about the remote she usually just elects to shove herself between the two of
them and take the damn thing herself.
Any objections are met with faux sadness and a stuck out tongue. There is no
arguing with Jade. None at all.
Its one of these nights, the nights where it’s just the four of you, together
and happy, that you’ve been dreading.
It’s the first one in days. For a week or two no matter what, one of you has
always found yourself busy. It’s a shame you have to go and ruin it with good
news.
* * * *
“John,” Jade says to you one day in the lab, voice heavy and stern. “We got
it.”
“Wait- what? Got what?” and she hands you the tray of the samples you were
working on and you see the color and oh - “Jade . . .”
“We got the grant, John.”
“Oh.” You set down your armful of beakers and test tubes. “Oh, um. Wow. Yay for
us! That’s. Wow.”
“Yeah! I-” and she just sort of sits down on the floor and you sit with her
because apparently sitting on the floor is what you’re doing right now. “I
should be more excited, shouldn’t I?”
“I mean. I don’t know. It never really seemed like it was going to happen! It
was kinda far fetched from day one.” You reason. “I guess I never really
expected it either?
She stares at you.
She starts laughing, this dry, rough little chuckle of a thing.
* * * *
“Three years?” She laughs (raw and tired and even a little big angry-) and
buries her face in her hands, blond hair swooping over thin wrists. “Three
years . . .”
Dave looks like he’s going to throw up.
“Rose, I’m serious. This is going to be a great opportunity for us! We could
change the world with this new technology, and now we finally have the finding
to do the field research we need.”
“Jade, I have the utmost confidence that when you and John are off on your
tropical science-journey of self discovery and ectobiological woe, you’ll
figure something out that will make Steve Jobs roll over in his grave. I’m not
laughing at you. I promise. It’s just the irony at the heart of the issue that
I find humorous.”
 
“Irony?” Your question dangles in the air like a piano on a frayed rope, about
to be dropped comedically on some unsuspecting passerby. Only the passerby is
you, and it’s not funny.
Rose looks at Dave who still can’t seem to meet anyone’s eyes. “I think this
might be your area of expertise?”
God he looks miserable.
“Okay so-” he stops. Clears his throat. Voice still raw and thick with feeling
like he’s choking on it. “So remember how me and Rose went to that media
workshop awhile back? Met all those Hollywood guidance counsellors and shit and
sent off portfolios and blah blah blah blah blah. Like a few weeks ago? So
yeah. Uh. Anyway . . . “
“We got accepted into the program,” Rose continues for him because it certainly
doesn’t seem like Dave’s going any further. “Full ride, full stop. It’s a great
opportunity - we’d be able to move out to California, transfer our credits, and
spend the next three years at one of the top film schools on the planet. I
could write my books and my screenplays and Dave could make his short films.
We’d be making some good connections.”
Three years.
Jade just fucking yanks Dave onto the couch with her and Rose and crushes them
against her prominent bosom, burying her face in their hair and howling.
“IM SO HAPPY FOR YOU TWO!” She cries out. “YOU’RE GONNA BE RICH AND FAMOUS AND
MAKE MOVIES THAT I DEFINITELY WOULDN’T WATCH!”
“Hey woah, I want in on this!” You say. You manage to cram yourself onto the
beat up sofa along with the rest of them, but not very well. You’re essentially
straddling Dave’s back at this point but whatever. “If Jade and I are going to
be moving to the other side of the planet to live in the fucking jungle and
play with our time travel slime then I am going to get as much face time with
you losers as possible.”
“We haven’t said yes yet dude,” Dave says. “We could still just stay like this,
I mean, none of us have to go anywhere.”
Jade nuzzles into the top of his head even harder, mussing up his hair, which
he of course automatically fixes with the hand he managed to squirm out from
between his and Rose’s bodies. It’s the immovable object meeting the
unstoppable force with Dave and Jade.
“Except we do. We sort of already promised. And even if we didn’t, I would want
to.” She says.
“So this is it, then?” Rose asks, weary and tense. “Our final decisions? We
just split down the middle and go our separate ways after only a few months of
getting to be together?”
“Can you think of a better option?” Jade asks.
“ . . . No.” She purses her lips.
“Then this is it I guess.”
“Three years isn’t a long time guys!” You chime in. “I mean, Dave, Rose, we
spent that much time just sort of dicking around after high school? Imagine how
fast that will go by when we’re doing the stuff we love!”
“How am I supposed to do the stuff I love when you two and your magnificent
bodies are off trawling through ancient ruins for alien science and slime
capsules or whatever the fuck?”
“Oh har de har har Dave. You’ll probably be okay with just Rose to bang, I
lived.”
“Thank you John, that was an incredibly heartwarming recollection of the time
we spent together in our youth.”
“I have a way with words.” You agree sagely.
“Three years isn’t that long of a time!” Jade echoes your sentiments “We’ll
have holiday and stuff like Christmas and Thanksgiving. We’ll get to see each
other often enough! And-
* * * *
-And you’re in Dave’s beat up Chevy (“Just by a new one, Dave, we have the
money-” “Oh HELL no, Rose, you’ve been trying to edge Charlene out of the
relationship forever but she’s here to stay.”) in the airport parking lot, the
back piled with bags and the seats filled to the brim with you and Rose and
Dave and Jade and, well, there you are.
“So, uh, I guess we should. Go check in now?” You suggest.
“Yeah . . .” And to his credit Dave really seems like he’s about to get out of
the car and help you with the bags but it’s Rose - Rose of all people - to whip
off her seatbelt and climb into the back row and pool herself on top of you and
Jade and stick one of her legs between each of yours.
Suddenly there are hands everywhere - at your hips, on your face, sliding down
your pants and -
God this is an entirely too small and public place to be doing it but there the
four of you are and -
and the last thing you feel before you leave them is their hands, everywhere,
all over you
and the last thing you feel before you fall asleep on the plane is jades head
against your shoulder
and the last thing you feel is just a little bit lonely
It’s only gonna be three years, you remind yourself, just three years.
Chapter End Notes
     SHHH DONT WORRY THIS ENDS HAPPY OKAY?? EVERYTHING IS GONNA BE FINE.
***** On My Way *****
Chapter Summary
     The End
Chapter Notes
     me: it's not gonna be months until the next chapter i promise
     me: its months until the next chapter
See the end of the chapter for more notes
I caught you dancing quietly
It felt like being somebody else
Oh I fell!
It seems like our love is too maddening for everyone else
 
Let's get married,
I'll buy a ring and then we'll
Consecrate this messy love
===============================================================================
 
 
I. something old
 
years in the past, but not many
 
You can’t tell if it’s your hand or Jade’s that’s shaking when you walk off the
plane. Fingers intertwined, knuckles white on the handle of your carry-ons,
god, it’s somewhere between ecstasy and relief. They’re there - of course they
are, but maybe just for a second you had a flicker of doubt - and the sign,
Jesus, it’s monstrous.
 
It takes both of them to hold it, Rose’s arms straight up and Dave’s bent a
little to adjust for height. It’s easily 12 pieces of printer painter taped
together, and you can tell that even after the move they’re still using the
piece of shit printer you bought at OfficeMax when your old one broke the night
of a big assignment’s due date. No other machine could leave such specifically
placed streaks of gray on everything. The masterpiece reads a friendly “WELCOM
HOEM 8^Y” in gentle neon yellow comic sans.
 
In the approx. 7 seconds it has taken you to process this, Jade has dropped
both your hand and her bags and is sprinting towards your other half at full
speed. She bowls over a few tourists. She doesn’t even seem to give a single
fuck, bless her heart. You consider picking up her bag, apologizing to a few
unfortunate and dazed airport patrons. Then, however, you make an executive
decision to do pretty much the exact opposite of that and tear after your three
favorite people in the world.
 
Are you yelling? You are definitely kind of sure that you are maybe yelling a
little.
 
Jade, the Amazonian goddess that she is, already has both of them crushed
against her chest, arms meeting and interlocking. She howls their names.
 
“AAAAHHH!” You’re undoubtedly yelling as you crash into them. Jade may have
superior height but you’ve got muscle, and you manage to maintain enough
momentum that all four of you go toppling to the ground. “AAhh?!?!?!?!”
 
“I missed your shocking brevity, John.” Rose mutters underneath you and you
aren’t even sure that was a quip you were supposed to hear but you hear it, and
you look down at her and her face is flushed and her eyes are bright and wow
you definitely have NOT spent enough time telling her how lovely she is.
 
You bend down and kiss her on the cheek. Just a gentle peck.
 
She turns the color of a tomato.
 
In the aftermath of this, you scramble to drag yourselves down to the baggage
claim before airport security escorts you there personally.
 
You drive - Rose tries to insist that she should do it - “Really, John, you’ve
had a long flight.”, Dave, of course, doesn’t want Rose anywhere near the front
seat of his car. He also respectfully declines your offer under similar
pretenses, but you can see him yawning. You know it’s earlier than he usually
gets up. The option of Jade driving is never even brought up - Jade is
perfectly fine with driving - but the rest of you couldn’t handle her style of
hands on the wheel, head out the window for much longer than 10 minutes at a
time.
 
So you drive.
 
Dave makes you stop at a gas station to pee and Jade buys beef jerky and Rose
tosses you a fruit by the foot while you wipe bugs off of Dave’s windshield and
home is only a few short minutes away.
 
A few short minutes, and then gone again in three weeks.
 
Rose sits shotgun and rests her head in your lap and you try not to think about
it.
 
* * * *
 
You’re straightening your tie to the nanometer and attempting to tame your hair
(just lay flat damn it!!!) for the umpteenth time today when there’s a soft
rapping at the door to your room. Despite the gel, the mere movement of turning
around to let your guest in sends a few stray locks shooting out. You sigh.
 
Not-quite-kinky hair is a very specific Hell.
 
You open the door and Grandpa Harley is standing there waiting for you.
 
“Hello, Son!”
 
“Hi Grandpa!” He embraces you in the full-contact way that the Harleys do and,
lord have mercy, he gives you an affectionate noogie. You cry one glorious,
silent internal tear for your fallen comrade. And to think, they were only a
day away from gel retirement. “What’s up?”
 
“Ah, not much at all. We all got together and thought it’d be best to, well.
You know what! I think I’ll let this explain for itself.”
 
He hands you a small, nondescript black box and you flip it open. Cufflinks.
Ornate and polished silver, studded with deep green gemstones the size of
dimes. They must be worth as much as Rose’s dress on their own.
 
“Are these . . . for me?” You gape.
 
He nods.
 
“Thank you . . . but. I still don’t get it.”
 
“Why John! It’s something old, of course. A family heirloom.” He tells you.
 
You just laugh. “That feels a bit too traditional for us.”
 
“Pah! Balderdash and HOOEY, the lot of it! This is a wedding and a wedding
without tradition is naught but an expensive party.”
 
“Haha! I suppose I can’t argue with that.” The two of you sit down on the couch
of your room and he places his hand on your shoulder.
 
“John, I’m very happy for you all.”
 
“Thanks, Grandpa. I’m happy too. And I feel like I’m going to throw up? But
like its a happy sort of puking. I am going to hurl out a bunch of glitter and
stuff probably. It’ll be embarrassing but funny at least!”
 
“I’ll remember to have my camera out. You shouldn’t be nervous though! You’ve
got nothing to prove to anyone.”
 
“I know! But-” You trail off . . . “You don’t understand what it’s like to have
to go and stand up in front of everyone you’ve ever known and admit you’re not
normal!”
 
“Well, that’s true. However, I also have a lot more first hand experience in
being a walking, talking oddity than you presume!”
 
“What do you mean?”
 
And as he rolls up his sleeve, you can’t believe it never even occurred to you
to ask.
 
* * * *
 
“Mmmm!” Jade hums happily against the skin of Rose’s neck, burying her mouth
onto that one spot you know from experience that drives her just crazy.
Meanwhile, Rose, ever the showman has one hand buried into Dave’s pants (very
impressive, given the angle) and the other weaving its way between Jade’s
dreads like a fish in an anemone.
 
You’re sort of rooting for Jade in this one, she seems on top of it. Both
literally and figuratively, you mean. She’s perched precariously over rose,
straddling her on the couch while Dave sits a bit off to the side. Damn she’s
incredible. You’d think you’d be ignoring her completely in favor of Dave and
Rose, considering you haven’t seen them in months, but yet, there she is.
 
“Egbert you have exactly 11 seconds to explain why you aren’t over here getting
one or all of us off before you have to spend the next 3 weeks doing every dish
in the house.” In between moans Dave manages to spit out some of his usual
bullshit. You’ve missed it.
 
“11? Why 11? That’s oddly specific.”
 
“I was gonna give you ten but I’m feeling - aah, jesus,” nice one, Rose. “I was
feeling generous. You’re down to eight now.”
 
“Dave, I’m gonna be doing every dish anyway. Have fun with your boner.”
 
“I am but - oh god, Rose how are you even getting that at this angle - but I
wanna be having fun with your boner too.”
 
“Yeah John!” Jade detaches herself from Rose’s neck. There’s a deep purple
hickey. She’s gonna be so pissed. It’s gonna be great. “Stop being such a
voyeur and actually do some legwork! I can not effectively ravage both of them
without you.”
 
“Don’t sell yourself short, Jade, I’m feeling pretty ravished.” Rose says.
 
“I dunno, I kinda like watching. You guys are so cute!” Dave flushes deeper,
somehow, like that was even possible. “See what I mean?”
 
Jade isn’t having it. “John!! Get in here and get. LAID.” She picks that moment
to jam her hand in between Rose’s thighs, up her skirt and past her underwear,
and starts very obviously fingering her. She winks at you.
 
Rose, evidently a bit distracted yanks her hand away from Dave (-oh come on,
really?) and puts her energy into full-force crushing Jade against her as she
gets off. Her face contorts, lips pursed and eyes squeezed shut as she tries to
decide whether or not she wants to sprawl out or curl up. This distracts you
exactly long enough for Dave to half-flashstep onto your lap.
“Cmon Egbert, your baloney pony ain’t gonna milk itself.”
 
“Wow, Dave! That was the single most disgusting sexual innuendo I’ve heard in a
really long time.”
 
“Welcome back, babe.”
 
You reach into the front of his pants to continue where Rose left off, feeling
the muscles in his thighs tense around your hips as he thrusts to meet you. “I
missed you too.” You whisper into his ear as you start to pick up the pace.
 
His back arches. His hands scrabble across the planes of your shoulders for
some kind of purchase. God, doesn’t he just make the best noises when he’s like
this? You take a moment to look over his shoulder to check in on the girls.
Jade’s head has disappeared completely underneath Rose’s skirt, officially
meaning All Is Right with the world.
 
Now you just have your own horny and squirming soulmate to deal with.  And your
own dick. Who is now beginning to feel a bit unsatisfied being left out of the
action.
 
One hand curled up in Dave’s hair, you reposition his head so you can meet his
mouth easier. He moans into your mouth. He’s given up on trying to form words,
thankfully, because the last thing you need is more of Dave’s incredibly unsexy
ranting that reads like a dril tweet, but you’ll be damned if he ever stops
making noise. He tastes like apple juice and spearmint gum and Rose’s cherry
chapstick. He tastes like home.
 
You start grinding against him, finally getting some satisfaction that you
hadn’t realized you needed so badly, and you can’t help but keen into him. You
feel the vibrations of your moan travel between the two of you and it seems to
amplify infinitely, increasing the frequency of his movements like you’re a
microphone pressed to a speaker.
 
“God, John.” He pulls away so he can actually use his mouth to talk to you
instead. You take a moment to internally swear that if he manages to say
something that’s a major turnoff, you’re not giving him dinner. “I need you to
fuck me. LIke, right now, or I’m definitely gonna die. Cause of death, lack of
vitamin d. I n-”
 
“No. Nope. No more talking before you ruin it.” You place a scolding finger
over his mouth to shush him.
 
* * * *
 
“No one? There’s just - nobody!?” You gape like a total asshole. Nice going,
dickbag!!!
 
“No, I’ve always been a bit of a soloist if you catch what I mean. Never did
fancy finding myself a paramour and settling down. John, you know. This kind of
love. . .” He looks at you now, direct eye contact, too intense for what you’re
used to from a gentle and - to put it kindly - eccentric old man. “It’s a
double edged sword.”
 
“What do you mean? I guess sometimes it can be kind of tricky, with four people
in one-”
 
“Ahh, but there’s the catch! No, my dear this isn’t a matter of quantity, far
from it. This particular vexation concerns quality. John, you’re going to be so
happy with them. I’m quite positive, really!” He stops to clasp you on the
back, rather aggressively. He ruffles your hair again. It’s a good thing you
started so early.
 
“But then, what’s the problem?” You ask.
 
“No, no problem not really I just. Goodness I’m causing a kerfuffle with this
one aren’t I? Mucking about my words and making a real mess of things.
Sincerest apologies! What I’m saying is that, you can’t let yourself become
about your relationship to other people. You can’t. I’ve seen it so many times
and everyone always ends up bitter and rueful at the end of the day.
 
You think about Jade’s job offer and Rose and Dave’s newest script and-
 
“Do you understand, son?”
 
“I. I think so? But what if all I want is for them to be happy!” You don’t need
much. You’d be happy with 2.5 kids and a dog. Or maybe, 5 kids and 2 dogs,
adjusting for romantic inflation? No. No that is entirely too many children.
Three. Four, max, so they each have a friend.
 
“Well! That’s noble of you. But take it from an old man, John. Everyone has a
purpose. You need to find out what yours is, and you need to find a way to fit
it in with theirs.”
 
“That makes sense. Thank you Grandpa.” You nod, filled with INTENSE EMOTIONS OF
UNDERSTANDING.
 
“After today you’ll have the rest of your life to figure things out, so I trust
you’ll come to some sort of equilibrium easily enough. Ta for now, I’ll be
making the rounds if you need me!”
 
And then he’s gone, leaving you with nothing but a sloppy hairdo, some
cufflinks, and the thought of spending the next 6 decades of your life in total
bliss.
 
* * * *
II. Something New
 
Years in the Future
 
“Do you think it’s - mine?” Is all you manage to get out after about 47 solid
seconds of spluttering like a fish on dry land.
 
“I don’t know!” She admits, laughing somewhere between hysterical and
incredulous. “It could just as easily be Dave’s.”
 
You ponder this for a moment.  
 
“Well, at least there’s no chance it’s Rose’s. Unless you, um, know something I
don’t?” And now she’s just plain laughing, doubled over at the sheer
ridiculousness of what is about to actually transpire.
 
Her locs bounce and swing like octopus tentacles while she catches her breath
between bursts. Her smile is big and bright and wrinkles the skin underneath
her eyes in a way that makes you picture her older. Hair greyed, back bent from
days in the garden, lines etched into her face from a lifetime of laughter and
time spent in the sunlight. She elbows you, and yanks you to the ground and the
two of you sit like that in the grass for a few good moments.
 
“So, John. What are we going to do?” Jade puts it plainly, of course, because
that’s who she is. But why on earth are you the only one here?
 
“Geez, I don’t know Jade! That’s kind of a lot of pressure to put on me? This
is definitely a group decision.”
 
“I know, I know” she brushes you off. “But think about this. Rose and Dave will
totally panic! And they’ll do that thing they do where Rose starts trying to
find The Ultimate Best Solution and Dave will probably start rapping baby names
-”
 
You miss the rest of what she says because you’re having a moment of extreme
clarity that is ever so rare to you.
 
You grab her around the waist and kiss her neck.
 
“I want to have babies with you!” You tell her, she giggles as you pet her
hair. “I want to have somewhere between 2 and 5 children and an assortment of
animals and I want us to go get mad at all of the other parents at the pta
meetings for bringing box made brownies because they fucking SUCK!”
 
“They’re not that bad, J-”
 
“Yes! They are! I am not budging on this one.”
 
She leans back and pulls you down with her and you rest cradled against her
like that, feeling her heartbeat against yours, feeling her breath on you,
feeling her, feeling her, and god, it’s definitely not fair to bring more of
those smiles into the world.
“So,” she asks. “That’s one vote for yes, Jade!!! Lets bring teeny little us-es
into the world and embarrass them publicly. I will take that into
consideration.”
 
“Just one? Jade, cmon. What about you. You have to tell me what you’re really
thinking!!! I mean, this is more or less YOUR DECISION at the end of the day.”
 
“Weeeellll . . . .” She’s got that look in her face that makes you know she’s
gonna start either fucking with you, or just plain fucking you. Like a
mischievous forest spirit preying on innocent passers by. “I’m all for the
mini-mes, but I’m not so sure how I feel about being the PTA power couple.”
 
“Power quadruple.” You correct.
 
“That is dumb and I am not saying it”
 
“YOU’RE dumb!”
 
She gasps.
 
“Rude!!! Rude much! I am going to call your father and tell him what a
scoundrel his VERY OWN SON has turned out to be.”
 
“Pfft! Fine! I’m an adult, I don’t need my dad to-” She fishes her cellphone
out of her pocket and starts dialing “-no wait don’t actually.”
 
“And THAT!” She says with a definitive poke to your sides. “Is why we aren’t
going to be helicopter parents.”
 
“So what? We’re just going to hand our kids guns and send them out in the
wilderness for a few weeks. First one to make it back to the house gets to be
the favorite?”
 
“Yes that is how I was raised! And look at me - I’m great.”
 
“Okay,” you admit. “True. But also you didn’t have any siblings to hunger games
you in exchange for grand-parental love!”
 
“Okay okay okay this is getting entirely TOO silly!” Choo choo, fun express has
been official derailed and it is time for down-to-earth baby business. In a
literal sense, if you get any more down to earth you’ll be buried, but
metaphorically speaking the severity of your situation hasn’t really sunk in
yet. “We need to tell Dave and Rose.”
 
“ . . . Yeah. Ready to go deal with our neurotic-depressive other half?”
 
“Pfft. I’m as ready as I always am!”
 
“Don’t hit Dave with a newspaper this time, he’s still upset about
Thanksgiving.”
 
* * * *
 
Your hair, finally, looks like it’s been combed within the last decade and so
you gather your spoons about you and start trying Not To Freak Out.
 
Who thought it was a good idea to do this? To go out and loudly proclaim in
front of EVERYONE YOU’VE EVER MET that you’re living in a polyamorous den of
sin?

You did. It was you. Congratulations.
 
You could have just gone about this quietly, left the bigots and the jerks
behind and slunk off into a new and better life. But you wanted some ceremony
at least, who could blame you?
 
Hint: you can blame you.
 
You sit back on the overstuffed couch in your room and stare at the clock. How
could this already be coming up so soon? You swear just yesterday this whole
thing was still a week or two out on the horizon. You can’t tell if the second
hand on the analog clock face is moving entirely too fast, or too slow.
 
Someone clears their throat and you jump out of your skin, barely managing to
stay on the couch instead of the floor.
 
“Bro, jesus, don’t do that dude!” You shout at him. You halfheartedly fling a
box of tissues from the nightstand at him, and he just sort of lets it bounce
off of him and clatter onto the floor. “How many times do people have to tell
you to knock before you’ll start doing it!”
 
He says nothing for a moment. Then, just plainly. “You done?”
 
“. . . Yes.”
 
“Well, first of all. Mazel Tov, kid. It’s your big day.”
 
“Tha-”
 
“-not done yet, pony express. Hold your horses. Next item on the table, a
literal item. Here you go.” He hands you a small-ish box. Plain, black, and
serviceable to an incredibly out of character degree. You crack it open. It’s a
. . . tie?
 
“Bro, wow, this is the single most benign thing you’ve done to, for, or near
me. I’m flattered.”
 
It’s blue - the exact right shade to go with your, well, everything, and some
of the smoothest silk you’ve ever touched. Bro was so weird about what he’d
spend money on. You didn’t even think he knew what a tie was.
 
“Somethin’ new, for you. Knock em dead.”
 
“Seriously, though,” You add. “Thank you Dude.”
 
“Don’t mention it. You can thank me properly by being good to them.”
 
“Why is everyone implying that my marriage is going to end horribly today!
Geez!” You huff. Of COURSE you’re going to be good to them - what else would
you do?
 
“C’mon man that ain't it, it’s just somethin’ you say.”
 
“I know! But, I’m already freaking out enough right now without every adult in
my life giving me a Stern recommendation of How Not To Ruin Everything…” You
twist your fingers over each other nervously, desperate for some sort of
fidgeting to ease your nerves. But you could never go and start messing with
the tie, you know better than to wrinkle silk. You’re not a monster.
 
“I’m sure everyone else has been getting the same spiel all morning. Try to get
over yourself, ok? You’re not the first person to ever be married so stop
acting like it.”
 
“Well! Where do you get off on giving me advice! Last time I checked you
weren’t married.” OOh, checkmate. Probably. His face sours a bit. Nice going.
 
“No, I’ve never been married.”
 
“Well did you ever - I mean - uh, y’know. Have. Anyone?” You gesture loosely to
your own wrist. He tents his fingers and lets you baste in the awkwardness of
the situation for a good few moments before he starts talking.
 
* * * *
 
“Wow. Wow, I am . . . quite literally speechless.” And she doesn’t say much
after that so you know she’s only exaggerating a little bit. Dave, on the other
hand, hasn’t said a word and has just been making an expression you can only
describe as !?!?!??!????
 
“That completely sucks, Rose, because I don’t really have anything to say
either!” Jade laughs, cupping Rose’s smaller hands in her own.
 
“Jade there is a legitimate human child parasitically leeching off of your
uterus at this present moment.” The love in her voice is unmistakable.
 
“I know!! It’s crazy! And I already have a ton of practice with fully grown
human leeches feeding off of me that I am totally going to do a great job with
this little one.” She grins as she elbows you. You nod sympathetically to your
fellow parasite, Dave.
 
“Whose is it?” Rose asks, and there’s a pause, and Dave still looks like he has
no idea what he’s doing here.
 
“All of ours. I don’t know who the biological father is and I don’t care! This
baby is going to have four excellent parents and that is all that matters.”
 
Dave finally seems to snap out of his initial shock, because he manages to
place a hand softly and inquisitively on Jade’s stomach. He prods her belly a
couple of times before saying something predictably mood-killing.
 
“Ok, like. I totally get the sentiment behind that but also let’s not do any of
that B.S pretending stuff and act like we don’t know who the real dad is after
it’s born because that’ll get old real fast. We’re either getting a dark
skinned brick shithouse of a baby or an unholy half albino beansprout.”
 
“Dave your phrasing is always so evocative, how do you manage that? All this
alone time we’ve had over the past few years has given me quite the
appreciation for the many mysteries of your mouth.”
 
“All jokes about oral aside, I’m verbally gifted. Also, I forgot to mention the
third alternative where, somehow the baby is Rose’s and it’s Matilda-telepathy
levels of smart and we all gotta fear and worship it.”
 
“Mmm, from what I’ve seen having a baby is pretty much a mixed bag of fear and
worship until the thing is old enough to talk!” You add.
 
Jade laughs and rubs Rose’s hand on her stomach. There’s no chance she’s far
enough along for her to feel anything, but Rose’s hand still shivers the
slightest when it makes contact anyway. There’s life in there. Real life.
 
You think back to being fourteen and cutting class to meet Rose at the diner
for french fries. You think about the pink of her cheeks when Jade leans in to
kiss her, and how she’d rather maintain her composure but she just can’t when
she’s happy. You think about picking twigs out of Jade’s hair after a thirteen
mile hike through the Amazon, amusing each other by telling stories that you
both already know but still love to hear. You think about how fast and how much
Dave talks when he’s nervous and how he still, around the three of you, like a
kid dealing with his first crush.
 
You think of any and all of these traits mish mashed together in one brand new
person.
 
Nothing seems like the right thing to do but to pull them all into the tightest
hug you can manage.

* * * *
 
“You’re asking if I’ve ever had a relationship?” But it’s not really a question
how he’s saying it.
 
“Well, I mean. I was trying?” You tell him.
 
“You’re doing a pretty shit job of it. The answer’s yes, I’ve dated before. But
I don’t see why you care, or what makes you think it’s any of your business to
know about my personal life. Tell me, John, why do you care about my personal
life?”
 
“I don’t know! Geez! You’re about to be my… brother-dad in law. I don’t know
anything about you! I’m marrying Dave! It seemed like a relevant question to
ask!” Does he always have to be so difficult?
 
“Well, guess what, some people’s private business is exactly that. Would you
like it if I asked about all of the intimate details of your life?”
 
“No b-”
 
“How many people have you slept with John?”
 
“Oh my g-”
 
“If you had to dump either Jade, Rose, or Dave who would it be?”
 
“Bro-!”
 
“What if I told you I had banged your Dad?”
 
You stare at him for just a moment, and continue wringing your hands around
each other.
 
“Bro, what’s the point of all of this?”
 
“The point,” He answers. “That there is no point, and I’m just fucking with
you, because hopefully that’ll get you to calm the hell down. You’re shaking
like a meth-ed up chihuahua with parkinsons.”
 
“God! Rude! Did you really bang my Dad though? Please say no.” You  beg.
 
“I don’t think you’ve earned the answer to that one yet. I’m just gonna let it
eat at you for awhile. That’s my second wedding present to you. The third is a
piece of advice, and the fourth is a mystery.”
 
“What a minute,” you say. “I thought I already got my advice? Don’t fuck it up,
be good to them, blah blah blah etcetera. You were totally prepared to leave
without giving me more advice, like, a minute and a half ago.”
 
“That was before I realized just how much of a nervous wreck you are.” He
flicks you on your knuckles, which have turned white with how hard you’ve been
gripping. “John, I’m going to be real with you. Nothing good in life is easy or
perfect. You’re gonna be doing a lot of work to make these people happy for the
rest of your life, and they’re gonna be doing the same thing for you so you
better not slack the fuck off okay? Some people ain’t cut out for it, can’t
take the heat. And if even just one of you is one of those people, this thing
all comes crumbling down. Things don’t work, John. You have to make them work.”
 
He clasps your shoulder.
 
“Can you do that for me?”
 
“I think . . . I think, honestly, that for them. I’d sort of be willing to do
whatever it took.” You say. And god damn it, now that you’re hearing yourself
say it out loud you’re realizing just how true it is.
 
- - - -
III. Something Borrowed
 
Years in the past, slightly fewer.
 
It’s a bright night, all moonlight reflected on waxy leaves and stars scattered
like silvery sprinkles. It’s nice. You’d trade it for the foggy, electric-light
polluted cityscape of home in a heartbeat. You miss Dave and Rose.
 
Jade also misses Dave and Rose. You can tell. Because she told you. And also,
Duh.
 
It’s not long, though. This is the homestretch. One more month and you’re home
for good. You can’t say you regret it because you don’t, but god does three
years seem like a long time to have an entire planet between you and half of
yourself.
 
You pass the time between settling in and sleep by harassing Jade.
 
“What’s that constellation?” You ask, pointing up at random star.
 
“Hmm. If I remember correctly, that specific arrangement of stars is the hotly
debated ‘Princess Berryboo official gijinka from the Squiddles Japan manga’.”
She plays along very nicely with your fuckery.
 
“Wow, so accurate. I can’t believe the super old sciency dudes who got to pick
the constellations got her seifuku so close to the original. What’s that one?”
 
“Ah! A favorite of mine. That is the ‘Microwave after Dave and Rose tried to
microwave that frozen Capri Sun so they could drink it but it caught on fire
and melted the microwave’.”
 
“Ok, now I know you’re just making that up. It doesn’t look a thing like it!”
 
“No, no!” She insists. “You’re seeing it upside down. Look at it the other way
- that part’s the smoke, see?”
 
“Oh wow, it’s beautiful. I can almost smell the molten plastic.” You trace your
hand up her arm, uncurl her fingers, and clasp her hand, holding it back
against your sleeping mat.
 
“Do you think they’re eating okay?” She asks.
 
“No, probably not.” And unfortunately that’s true. Rose can not cook. Dave can
not cook without something being destroyed. Neither of them are too prone on
leaving the house long enough to go out for a real meal. You’d bet your
Bachelor’s degree that 90% of their diet has consisted of Thai and Chinese
takeout. They don’t eat it when you’re home. Otherwise you’d sort of die.
 
“This is stupid!” She huffs. “I just wish they could have come with us, why do
travel visas have to be so specific? This would be GREAT with Dave and Rose!
You know Dave would have his tripod out right now, look at these stars.”
 
“Omg totally. And Rose would be bugging him about what filter he’d use when he
uploaded it to his instagram.”
 
Jade giggles, and then slips into her best (which is, admittedly, terrible. But
that’s the charm) impression of Dave.
 
“Rose! I told you to stop stalking my insta! How am I supposed to post all of
the pix of me vaping with my side hoes when you’re getting all helicopter
parent on my ass.”
 
This is a common ritual between the two of you, which is why you don’t miss a
beat before putting on your best Lalondian Falsetto.
 
“Dave, dearest, I’m merely assuring that there’s no overlap between our various
infidelities. If we want to avoid a whole ‘two dates to the prom’ situation one
of us has to be the responsible party.”
 
“Yeah, and this way if one of us gets the clap it’ll be easier to pin it on
some rando.”
 
“Oh, Mr Strider.” You sight breathily. “Nothing heats my loins so effectively
like you being totally gross and talking about stds, which you do really
frequently in bed for some reason???”
 
Jade flips herself over to straddle you, and caresses the side of your face
gently.
 
“I know babe. That’s why I do it.” And just as she attempts to mash her mouth
against yours you start laughing. It’s ridiculous, really, how you both just
end up crashing your teeth against each other because you’re trying to crack up
and make out at the same time. It’s incredibly ineffective. You settle for
having her lay on your chest, and the two of you laugh into the crooks of each
other’s necks.
 
“They’re so dumb.” You say.
 
“I know.” She says.
 
“I love them though???” You say.
 
“Yeah me too!” She says, “I guess that makes us pretty dumb also.”
 
“It is probably impossible for us to be anything but total idiots at this
point,” You mourn. “For an idiot though, you’re really smart, Jade!”
 
“Pfft. Dork!!!” She nudges you with her elbow, and snuggles up pressed against
your chest, and that’s how it goes until you’re home.
 
- - - -
 
“Knock knock!”  Mom hollers through your door, while also knocking. Just in
case you missed one of them. “I’m coming in anyway so don’t be naked.”
 
And she does, and thankfully you aren’t.
 
“OOOOOOOOOOH my god!” She cries. “You look so handsome, you’re all grown up!
Omfg, I can’t believe you and Rosey are getting MARRIED today!” She crushes you
in a hug that doesn’t befit her deceptive stature. You know under her fancy
evening gowns and designer lab coats, she’s as ripped as any of the world’s
(other) top trained martial artists, but you’d never be able to guess it at a
first glance.
 
“T-thanks!” You manage to choke out when she lets you breathe again. “I can’t
believe it either, honestly? I think I might actually still be 12 and this is
some weird fever dream representing, my, um, fear of commitment and math tests
or something?”
 
“Wouldn’t that be weeeiird? If this was all just some dudes dream… omg we’d.
We’d never KNOW, John. It would be a MYSTERY.”
 
If you hadn’t known Mom long enough to know that she had been sober for the
past few years, then you’d suspect she was completely trashed. Her boisterous
personality combined with her thick accent make her fill up any room she’s in.
 
“I really hope that’s not true! If I find out that all of life was super fake
and had no rules then I’d be so mad. I could have been spending all of my time
flying places like with dream rules but nooo, instead I have to drive a car.”
 
“Ok ok ok all verbal shitposting aside, it is YOUR BIG DAY and I have a present
for you!” She singsongs. “Well. Not really a present. You gotta give it back,
It’s a loaner.”
 
“Wow, cheap.”
 
“Omg shut up, you know we’re doing the. Something something-ed, thing.”
 
“I know I am just giving you a hard time about the somethinged somethings, Mom.
It is my job.” You pat her on the shoulder. “What is it?”
 
“It is… drumroll please…” She fishes around in her shoulderbag while you
rhythmically tap on the end table next to you. “Tah-dah!”
 
She hands you a credit card. It’s a sleek, business-looking black, and it has
her name on this.
 
“Wait, what?”
 
“I know you guys already picked what you’re doing for your honeymoon, but a
little extra spending money never hurt anyone.” She punctuates herself with a
wink.
 
“Mom, no, there’s no way I can spend your money!” You insist. “We’ve all got
jobs - decent jobs - you and everyone else already did enough by helping so
much with the wedding.”
 
“Johnny, baby!!! My little boy blue! You are going to take this credit card.
You are going to spend OODLES OF CASH MONAY on fancy dinners and nice hotel
rooms and stupid shit like, scuba lessons or whatever you get up to. And you
are going to ENJOY it.” She says it so sweetly but still manages to leave no
room for arguing, thrusting the daunting plastic rectangle back at you.
 
“Okay . . . geez, wow. This is so generous of you!” You take the card and slip
it into the inside pocket of your suit jacket. Safe and snug.
 
“Yes, I am a loving and caring woman, who is also smart and great. Bless you
for realizing all of these really true things.”
 
“I am a good future son in law what can I say!”
 
She tents her fingers in front of her face, lips pursed.
 
“John. I think you’re ready.” She says sternly. “Do you want to know why I’m
not with anyone? Word on the street - and by that I mean I talked to BroStri
and G-Harlz and they told me - word is that you’ve been peeksing around in
people’s love lives.” She waggles her eyebrows at you and you flush.
 
“Maybe a little bit! I’m just kinda curious. No judgement here.”
 
“Hon, you couldn’t judge someone’s love life if you had a gavel and powdered
wig. You have absolutely NO leg to stand on here in your orgiastic den of sin
you’re about to get all matrimonial with. Don’t worry, though. I know you’re
gonna be nice about it.”
 
You nod.
 
“So, would you do the honors of giving me the second drumroll of the evening?”
 
“Of course!” And once again you tap your fingers against the bedside table
until she shows you what she wants you to see. She slips up the sleeve of her
dress and as your brain process the letters you find yourself both completely
shocked, and not surprised in the slightest.
 
* * * *
 
“John that’s not the kind of plant you can eat!” Jade yelps as she smacks the
berries out of your hand.
 
“Geez, relax, Jade. I wasn’t going to eat them. or , I am using them for my
MASTERPIECE.” You explain, picking them up off the ground and putting them into
place. “Observe.”
 
“Okay . . . I’ll bite. What exactly am I looking at here?”
 
“Jade you’re insulting my art.”
 
“I’m sorry, John’s art,” She pouts. “You’re very pretty and colorful and
definitely poisonous, I am just not sure what you are!”
 
A large rodent which you are not learned enough to identify swoops past you in
a blur of fluff, stealing away a few of your less-deadly components of your
artwork. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.
 
“Oh nooooo!” Jade cries. “Your masterpiece.”
 
“It’s okay,” you say somberly. “Now it’s performance art.”
 
“Really, though, what was it?”
 
“It was a mud effigy of Rose and Dave. I was going to sacrifice these effigies
to the ancient mud gods so we would have a quick and painless flight home.”
 
“Do the mud gods know about airplanes?” She asks.
 
“Probably not? I guess this was kind of a shit plan anyway, huh. I’m gonna
stick to improv comedy.”
 
“Well, it was worth-”
 
“SO HOW ABOUT THAT AIRLINE FOOD, HUH?” You belt over her condolences. She
starts booing you immediately, and flings some mud at your face for good
measure. One clump smacks dead center into your nose and you’re very shortly
aware of the fact that this mud was previously the resting spot of a small
frog. It ribbits, and you peel it off of your face and set it on the ground to
hop away.
 
“John, I think the mud gods heard your prayers. That was a blessing frog.”
 
“I didn’t feel very blessed?”
 
She stalks up to you and grabs your shoulders, shaking you.
 
“A blessing frog, John! YOU’VE BEEN BLESSED. Feel the POWER!”
 
“I FEEL IT! I feel the power!” You shout. “Mostly I just feel kind of gross,
though, should we head back to base?”
 
“Hmm . . . we could head back to base,” She says, in what you’ve come to know
as her Sneaky Voice. “Or, I can show you the waterfall I found.”
 
“Second one. Definitely the second one.”
 
She grabs you buy the arm and leads you through the thick foliage. The walk is
fairly long, and definitely hot, but thankfully neither the longest nor hottest
walk you’ve been subjected to in the past three years. This one also has a much
nicer incentive at the end - a dip in a beautiful tropical waterfall with your
girlfriend - rather than something along the lines of ‘tracking rare bird
species’ or ‘getting somewhere solid before the typhoon hits’. You find you
don’t mind either the distance or the heat, really, given the context.
 
The waterfall is certainly beautiful. It looks like one of those kitschy
rainforest scene you see on the L.E.D wall hangings they sell at every mall but
no one ever buys. The water, a brilliant teal, tumbles into the river with a
comforting thrum and the spray of it is so pristine it looks airbrushed. You
can see all the way to the bottom of the sandy bank.
 
“Wow.” Is really all you can bring yourself to say.
 
“I know, right?” She agrees with you. And then, she starts stripping naked.
 
“Oh! Is this gonna be, um, that kind of outing?”
 
“It doesn’t have to be, I am just not walking back in wet clothes, that’s for
sure! You know how long it takes stuff to dry.”
 
“Ugh, I know! Let’s move to wherever is the least humid after this okay. The
desert, maybe? Or a mountain. I miss breathing air instead of water.”
 
She slingshots her bra at you before she dives into the water. When she does,
you can see all of her. Every stretch of a muscle, all toned from her training
and lifestyle. Every body hair, thick and dark and curly that she’s never felt
the need to get rid of. You see the scars along her skin, white etchings on
deep brown, and you see the way her hair twists around her face like tentacles.
She’s lovely. She’s perfect. You’re never not awestruck.
 
“Stop gawking and get in here, stupid mudface booblooker!” She barks at you,
flicking droplets of water at you.
 
“Wow! And to think I was just thinking about how great and pretty you are. I am
taking it all back now though.” You huff.
 
“Fine! But get on in here while you’re doing it at least.”
 
You strip yourself bare, because, duh, who would pass on this, but you make a
show of doing it as slowly and deliberately as possible. You pause every now
and then to huff, or roll your eyes. She’s trying not to look amused. She’s not
doing a super great job of it, to be honest.
 
You cannonball in and the water is bliss. The water is cooler than the air
temperature, but in that just-so way that it makes you feel like you’re diving
into a cloud, and just floating in nothingness. The garbled sound of the
waterfall bubbles into your ears as you swim over to where Jade is.
 
You dunk her head underwater.
 
She pours some sand on your head.
 
With formalities out of the way, the two of you can just relax. You swim
lethargically around each other, scrubbing each other’s backs underneath the
waterfall or sitting on boulders with your feet submerged. She sits behind you
on a flat rock, spooning you, her stomach and chest pressed wetly against your
back. Her chin rests on your crown.
 
“Soooo . . .” She begins.
 
“Jade, I know something’s wrong.” You offer.
 
“Not, not wrong! No. I just.” She sighs. “You know how I thought I might be
sick?”
 
“Mm? Oh, yeah. I remember you saying you were feeling off.”
 
“Well, the more I thought about it the more it made sense that I was-”
 
“-coming down with a tropical cannibalism disease?”
 
“-Pregnant.” Oh.
 
“Oh.”
 
Oh.
 
She winds her hands through your hair, clenches, not hard enough to hurt. She’s
tense.
 
“So you’re-”
 
“No, I’m not. It ended up just being a scare.”
 
“Oh.”
 
“What would we have done?” There’s no drama to it, no desperation or
depression. Just. A question. What would you have done.
 
“I don’t know. I guess, we would have talked to Dave and Rose about it?”
 
“Do you want kids?”
 
“Oh, yeah! I mean. I definitely do. You know that, nerd. Just maybe not right
now and so unexpectedly? And definitely not in the middle of the jungle?”
 
“Wow! I was a jungle baby and I turned out fine.” She flicks your ear.
 
“You’re living in sin, Jade!”
 
She shoves you forward off of the rock. You completely deserve it. You manage
to shout out “Ssiiiiiiiinnn!!!!” while you’re slipping away, but it earns you a
mouthful of riverwater.
 
She jumps in after you almost immediately.
 
You don’t know what you’d do if you actually ever really fought with Jade.
She’s the one you can count on the most, in some ways.
 
You’re hardwired to care about people - it’s what you do. The people close to
you are the most important things in the world, and every time you’re with them
you feel like you’ve got three birds in a hand, and would do anything to stop
them from flying off. You cook when you can and you tidy up and you drive when
no one else wants to because, really, at the end of the day, these are the
things that tell people you love them.
 
But on days when this is all easier said than done, Jade comes in and irons out
your wrinkles, dusting you off and getting you ready for another day. She’s
your safety net.
 
“Hey!” You call to her. “Bet you you can’t climb that waterfall.”
 
“Oh it is ON!”
 
- - - -
 
“My Dad.” You state plainly.
 
“Yeeeeep.” Mom replies.
 
“That’s kind of weird and makes me feel a little creeped out honestly!” You
whine.
 
“John don’t be immature, you know us old people have ne-”
 
“-Ew! No! Nasty. I just mean like, if you and my dad are a thing, doesn’t that
make Rose almost like my sister?”
 
“Yeah, that’s the reaction I was worried about.” Tutts Mom. “Look at it this
way. Your Dad and I have no official relationship. We’re not dating, or
married, or anything like that. We’re just spending some time together.
Sometimes that all a person needs in life, just a companion.
 
“I guess so but also! That’s weird. And also, why didn’t you tell us sooner I
mean, who else knows about this?”
 
“Well for starters, we didn’t tell you before now because there wasn’t much of
anything to tell before. We figured it’d be better to hold off on any kind of
relationship until you kids were all sorted out.”
 
“So you just . . . pressed pause on your feeling so your kids didn’t feel
slightly uncomfortable?” You gawk.
 
“More or less. Honey, parents - good parents - are willing to do whatever it
takes to make sure things go well for their children. And as far as I’m
concerned, all four of you have always been my babies.”
 
“Wow . . . this is kind of surreal.”
 
“Pfft! You’re telling me. It’s like, just last year I was at some party getting
knocked up by a stranger, but nooo, here I am two decades later. And then some.
And my little bastard baby girl is about to get quadruple married!”
 
“Yep, the universal mother experience.”
 
“When you’re a mother at your daughter’s wedding, you’ll understand.”
 
“Okay. I’ll make sure to call you up so we can get the ‘I told you so’s out of
the way.”
 
She pats you on the shoulder.
 
“You’re a good kid, John. You’re all good kids. Smart and pretty and talented.
Good people, all around. You’re gonna find a way to make this work, I’m sure of
it.”
 
“Why does everyone keep saying stuff like that? Why wouldn’t it be able to
work?”
 
“Hon, TV lies to you. Relationships are hard. Not even just the romantic ones -
all of them. People are messy and and those messes gotta be cleaned up. People
get the wrong idea about what it means to have a soulmate.” The trails off for
a moment and runs a hand through her hair. “Who even decided that that’s what
the names mean, y’know? No one really knows where it comes from. Did evolution
just pick it up along the way? is it Dark Majjyks?”
 
“That’s a . . . really good point actually. Is there any science behind this?
Like, at all?” You ponder. “I can’t remember ever hearing anything super
definitively sciency about it.”
 
“See as far as anyone can tell, it just. Happens. No rhyme or reason to it.
tbh.”
 
“What does that even mean, though? LIke. In terms of significance. Is all this
soulmate stuff just… fake as shit? I mean, I know Jade dated a bunch of other
people but at the end of things she still picked us. . .”
 
“I can’t answer that, John. No one can.” She laughs and stares at her own name
- Your father’s name - where it marked her wrist. “Maybe there’s some big
secret to it. Maybe we’re just the same few souls, going through the motions
over and over again, stuck with the same person or three for all of eternity.”
 
“You mean like, a whole Cloud Atlas thing? Lovers between lives, reincarnated
again to find each other.”
 
“Maybe!” She chuckles wistfully. “Who knows, we could all just be lovers in an
another life.”
 
- - - -
 
IV. Something Blue 
 
Minutes in the future, but not nearly enough.
 
You stand fidgeting at the altar, facing the crowd and desperately trying to
not let their stares get to you. You don’t mind being the center of attention
but you’re usually in a situation where it’s appropriate to crack an icebreaker
or two. You’re not good at serious. You don’t do serious.
 
Dave stands beside you, dressed as sharp as you’ve ever seen him, close enough
that your shoulders touch and your fingers brush against each other.
 
You want so badly to take his hand - to feel the warmth of his skin against
yours, to ground you. Something. Anything.
 
But that would ruin the surprise! And then what would be the point of this
whole fakey fake joint wedding if not to totally freak everyone out?
 
Stop bouncing your leg, dunkass!! You think to yourself, but you don’t listen,
because what ELSE are you supposed to be doing right now! You wish the ceremony
would just start already. It’s been at least three hours (okay it’s been 15
seconds) of waiting like this, for something to happen, and you’re going crazy.
 
And then things start to happen and you have the absolute moment of clarity
that you wasted a wish on this. God damn it. Jade’s gonna be so mad.
 
Are wedding wishes a thing?
 
You don’t have much time about it before your beautiful wives begin walking
down the aisle. Rose looks almost ghostly in her dress, all layers of
translucent lace and tulle, cut into a strapless heart shaped neckline. Jade’s
dress reminds you of something between a waterfall and a tiered cake. Her hair
is piled on top of her head in an intricate twist, and she is absolutely
beaming.
 
You swear you hear your heart stop.
 
Jade and Rose each hold a bouquet of flowers in one hand, the other hands
occupied holding each other. Skirting on the outer edges of the aisle, Grandpa
and Dad each have a grip on one of the women’s arms, leading them down the
aisles. Neither of them ever knew their fathers - neither did Dave, come to
think of it - but you’ve all made it clear that one parent per was plenty to go
around. It takes a village, and you’ve managed to build quite a nice one, you
think.
 
Everything goes blurry as you start to tear up.
 
They’re so beautiful and you’re a sap!!! You’re a damn sap, John Egbert, you
scold yourself.
 
Everything gets fast and wild from there - none of you wrote your own vows. You
all agreed that the concept of pouring out your intimate feelings in front of a
crowd, was, just really embarrassing? You chose to go - ironically - for the
wholly traditional exchange.
 
You hold Roses hands in front of the altar. She stands back to back with Jade
and you and Dave make bashful eye contact over your shoulders.
 
You barely stumble out your ‘I do’s’ with the proper timing and suddenly you’re
supposed to be kissing the bride. Oh. Ooohhh . . . .
 
Rose pulls you into her enthusiastically and you can’t help but grin against
her as the crowd whoops and hollers, knowing you’re about to get a reaction at
least twice that hyped. You and Rose and Dave and Jade are pronounced husband
(s) and wi(f/v)e(s).
 
You each pull back from kissing your respective spouse, and, without further
adieu, the girls turn to face each other. In the true highlight of the evening,
Jade picks up Rose by the waist and spins her into a dip, laying a deep,
lipstick-mixing kiss on her. Meanwhile, admits the bubbling up hoots and
hollers you yank Dave down by his tie, giving him a solid and respectable
smooch. You can practically feel the heat radiating off of his face. The
whooping around you from your guests just increases as the four of you untangle
from each other to walk hand in hand down the aisle. From there, you ease
smoothly if not raucously into the reception.
 
You’re instantly swarmed by friends, coworkers, old professors and skaianet
interns and people Jade tutored in calculus and a few people you’ve never met
that Dave has known on the internet for a decade, and every type of person
who’s ever made any sort of positive impact while careening haplessly through
and into your life.
 
Reactions range from complete and utter shock to knowing pats on the shoulder
but thankfully it’s all warm and supportive. Putting the guest list together
was hard - it’s not always possible to tell who will and won’t react poorly to
something like this, but apparently the four of you and your guardians managed
to pair it down properly.
 
It doesn’t take long until you’re all split up, making conversation with wave
after wave of people like a celebrity buffering their way through a throng of
fans. You keep trying to drift back to the other three, but duty calls, and you
can’t bring yourself to skimp on conversation just to stand next to Jade, Rose,
and Dave more. You father did not raise you to be impolite to your guests.
 
Besides, between you’ll have plenty of alone time tonight.
 
Time melts by like butter on hot toast and you find yourself spiraling out with
the crowd to where the buffets are set up, a drink in one hand and Jade’s waist
in the other. The food is hot, heavenly, and completely peanut free. You flit
from table to table, holding your plate as you bounce around pinball style
trying to talk to everyone you missed.
 
And then, seemingly just as quickly as dinner started, the deserts get cleared
away, the tables are pushed to the edge of the room, and the music for your
first dance begins to play.
 
For the millionth time today you feel the pinpricks of hundreds of eyes on the
back of your head.... but you push it away, and focus on Rose instead. She
sways with you, easy and smooth and suddenly it’s not her hips your hands are
resting on, but Dave’s, and he wraps his arm around your shoulder and he gives
you this big goofy smile you so rarely see, especially in public, and it’s
ridiculous. it’s completely ridiculous!!! god!! Suddenly Jade is cutting in,
switching out from her dance with Rose to accompany you for a bit. Jade’s not
much of a dancer. That is, to say, she’s not much of a slow dancer. She’s got
too much energy and passion in her, Jade’s a bubbling cauldron of pick-me-up
potion, two seconds from boiling over. You know when the fast dancing starts no
one will be able to focus on anyone but her. It’s impossible to not enjoy
someone who’s enjoying themself so whole heartedly.
 
Things wind down as the dancing switches to toasting, and the toasting switches
to late evening cocktails (the Striders and Lalondes being pretty much the only
people not to take part) from the open bar you sprung for.
 
People begin to trickle out as it gets closer and closer to being the next
morning. You shake hands and kiss cheeks and give your well wishes as the pack
thins and you’re that much closer to being alone. It’s not like you don’t like
people - you love them! - but there’s only so much emotional intensity a guy
can go through in a day before he just has to collapse.
 
You’re about 30 seconds from locking yourself in a closet just to have a moment
of silence when the last people manage to make their way out. Dad comes to sit
next to you on the bench where you’re slumped, and he and the rest of your
guardians offer to take care of everything that has to be dealt with tonight.
You tell him he’s the best dad in the world, which is true, and together the
four of you wearily stumble back to your limo to settle in for the night.
 
- - - -
 
After everything, you’re more than expecting it when Dad comes to find you in
your room only minutes before you need to head out for the ceremony. He looks
like he always does, and you’ll be damned if you don’t appreciate that about
him. Same old fedora. The same bald head. A slightly nicer suit than his
standard, but a cut and style you’re all too familiar with. Yep, that’s
certainly your Dad.
 
He pulls you into a crushing embrace and somehow, even though as far as you
know, he hasn’t baked today, he still smells like cake. It’s almost impressive,
honestly.
 
“John, I am so, so proud of you.” he says, pulling back to meet your gaze.
 
“Dad! You always say that.”
 
“And it’s always true.” He agrees. “Not many parents are lucky enough to have a
child so accomplished and boastworthy. Very few parents also get three children
in law to dote on but I seem to have lucked out in the area.”
 
“Haha, yeah, they’re pretty great aren’t they.” You offer.
 
“I couldn’t think of anyone better for you to be spending the rest of your life
with.” He nods “Now, I’m sure you know what I have for you, or, could at least
take an educated guess.”
 
“Hmm,” You grin. “Something blue?”
 
“Precisely!” He reaches into an inside coat pocket to pull out something of an
all too familiar shape and size. It’s a . . .  tattered box of cards?
 
“Huh?”
 
“These belonged to my mother, your nanna. She always told me they were lucky.”
He flips the box over, to present the other side to you. There’s a jagged hole
in the center of the deck, probably about the size of a nickel. “Back when she
was a nurse, during the war, she used to keep it on her at all times, to
entertain the soldiers with a card trick or two, or to play games when things
were slow. One day, their base gets bombed, and there’s shrapnel everywhere.
The only thing that managed to hit her went right into this deck, and never
even broke skin.”
 
“Wow,” you whisper.
 
You tip the cards out into your hands, and their worn and soft the way only old
paper can be, curved in the slightest from years of shuffling, the effects of
which can’t be avoided forever, no matter how expertly done. You shuffle
through them, examining the complex design on the back and the golden accents
on the face cards. The most unique thing about Nanna’s deck, though, is that
beyond being well used it was also well loved. The fronts of the cards are
covered in smeared and faded writing. Signatures and letters and dates ranging
from anywhere between the mid 1920s, when she would have been just a teenager,
up til ‘96 when you were born.
 
It feels like you’re being handed the only existing manuscript of a biography.
The dead sea scrolls, or a lost relic from the library of Alexandria. It feels
like holding a scrap of a human soul.
 
“Are you sure she would have wanted me to have this?” You gape.
 
“I’m one hundred percent positive. And if you can hold on to it long enough,
I’d like you to give it to your kids as well.”
 
“I will. I promise.”
 
“Now, I know you never knew your Nanna, but I guarantee she would have been
just as ecstatic today as I am. She was a loving woman with a real knack for
bending the rules to her benefit. You take after her a lot.”
 
“But you and I are both adopted! How can I take after someone I’m not even
related to?”
 
“I don’t know,” he admits. “But you do, beyond a shadow of a doubt. Family is a
funny thing like that.”
 
“Yeah,” you say, slipping the cards back into their box. “It really is, isn’t
it.”
 
“Speaking of which, Roxy told me that she had already informed you of the
nature of our relationship?”
 
“Yeah that too.”
 
“And?” He prompts you and you realize, for the first time in your whole life
that your approval matters to him too.
 
“I think it’s great!” You rush to say. “I mean, kind of weird too, but I guess
no one like to think of their parents as people who do things and have feelings
. . . especially gross romantic-y ones.”
 
“That’s quite fair. Thank you, son.”
 
“Of course Dad!”
 
He hugs you again. He’s such a sap!!! God. Then again, you’re sniffling a bit
too but it has been an Emotional Day.
 
“So…” You ask. “What now?”
 
* * * *
 
You (and by you, you mean Rose) had the foresight to check into your first
hotel room earlier in the day. Now, standing in the lobby, going on your 12th
hour of being in a suit, completely exhausted, you’ve never been more grateful
for anything she’s ever done. Except marrying you, maybe. You got a few odd
looks when you booked one penthouse suite - with a single, king sized bed - but
you’re far too blissed out to care anymore.
 
The four battered suitcases perched like sentries in the stark unfamiliarity of
the hotel room give you a feeling of drinking warm cocoa. None of you are
drunk, or covered in puke, but you’re certainly tipsy, exhausted, and over
dressed.
 
It feels a hell of a lot like prom night.
 
You pick up Jade and fireman carry her across the threshold because she’s too
tall for anything else. Meanwhile, Rose is giving Dave a piggyback ride. The
four of you just about collapse facedown on the bed and you swear, you’re
sinking into a particularly substantial cloud. You moan into the comforter.
 
“I wanna marry this bed.” Dave sighs.
 
“Me too. It’s sad that we have to get divorced for that though,” Jade comments.
“I was really enjoying this marriage.”
 
“I’d give it… an eight out of ten so far.” Rose adds.
 
“Rude!?” You huff.
 
“I’ll bump it up to a nine if one of you gets me out of this matrimonial
straight jacket.” She groans.
 
“Hehe, careful Rose you’re starting to sound like those straight dudes who wear
those GAME OVER shirts with the bride and groom on them.” Jade says.
 
“I am exactly that,” says Rose. “Three kids from now when you’ve all lost your
look and the passion is gone, we’re going to fight over little things like
whether or not we’re eating too much carbs and whose turn it is to change the
batteries in the remote. Meanwhile, I’ll call you a bitch on xbox live from the
pleathery comfort of my man-cave. I can see the future, and this is our fate.”
 
“Noooooo!” Jade gasps. “At least tell me we aren’t helicopter pta parents like
John wants us to be.”
 
“Hey-!” your protesting is drowned out rather rapidly.
 
“We are. John comes home every day from book club and-slash-or coffee-slash-
mimosa with the freshest gossip about Karen’s shit brownies, and Susan and
Tamara’s falling out over Helen.”
 
“What about me?” Dave asks.
 
“You, my dear, are the worst of all. While Jade is trying to desperately spice
up our gluten free meals with vegan dark chocolate and spinach faux brownies,
John is going out for lunch with the gals and driving the triplets soccer
practice, and I am ‘pwning the noobs’ online, you will be working 9-5 at a
listicle blogging website to pay the bills.”
 
“Fuck, no anything but that. Please, Rose.”
 
“I’m sorry, Dave. I can see it now. Ten Reasons Why This Company Is Quirky and
Fun To Work For: Number one, we have yoga balls instead of chairs, so you must
constantly rely on core strength just to even begin working.”
 
“Damn, well if that ain’t just the most hideous dystopia mankind could ever
create. Listicles were done like five years ago and shit like buzzfeed keeps
churning it out and we’re all supposed to click and, what, leave with the
knowledge we’ve seen fifteen more cat pictures than we had earlier that day?
It’s shit, Lalonde. Shit. And I won’t stand OR sit on a core enhancing rubber
ball for it, not in this lifetime. I’m gonna be the YA Protagonist who is young
and wants to change things. My epic journey ends with me firebombing the shit
out of the whole internet and rebuilding it from the ground up.”
 
“Like a phoenix, rising from the ashes.” Rose adds. “I’m serious, though.
Someone come peel me out of this dress, I’m exhausted. How do we manage to get
off track so easily?”
 
“I don’t know, but it’s a gift,” Says Jade. “We can just amuse ourselves for
forever by talking about dumb nonsense and then laughing at it! That’s a solid
setup if you ask me.”
 
“You’re so wise, Jade.” You comment as you force yourself to stand up and walk
over to the side of the bed where Rose is planted. You pull down the zipper in
the back and start pulling on the dress’ hem. “Rose you at least have to shift
your weight a bit so I can get this off of you!”
 
She groans but complies, wriggling like a worm until she’s in nothing but
panties, a bra, and some incredibly sexy hold up stockings. You tease at the
hem a bit as you unhook her bra for her.
 
“Have I ever mentioned how much I love stockings?” You sigh.
 
“Only every time one of us wears them,” Snorts Dave. “I pull it off best
though, don’t even lie.”
 
You’re about to reply but Jade - now also as naked and sexy as Rose - tosses
her discarded garments at you, and it’s like being attacked by a silky white
ghost.
 
“Thanks John!” She chirps. You rolls your eyes and pout a bit, but you ask Dave
to take off his suit too so you can go hang it up for future dry cleaning. You
know beyond a shadow of a doubt any three of them would have just tossed the
damn things haplessly onto the floor to develop permanent wrinkles. Because
they’re monsters.
 
The four of you lay there, atop the sheets in nothing but the barest of
underwear on your wedding night, for a good few minutes doing nothing but
staring at the ceiling.
 
“So.” Jade says, rolling over to smooth her hands over Rose’s skin, planting
small kisses on the deep red lines where the seams have been diggin in all day.
 
“So?” Rose asks.
 
“I am very tired.” She says.
 
“Yeah me too.” Agrees Dave.
 
“Is anyone super opposed, to, um. Skipping the whole wedding night
sextravaganza we’re supposed to be having right now?”
 
“Oh thank god,” you sigh. “I was really hoping I would not have to be the party
pooper but even Rose’s sexy, sexy stockings aren’t enough of an incentive to do
anything but pass out right now.”
 
“I’m not really feeling anything but dead either to be honest.” Dave admits.
 
“I fourth the motion to sleep, get well rested, maybe go find some breakfast,
and then go at it like rabbits.”
 
You laugh. Jade laughs. Then Dave laughs, and Rose too, because you’ve finally
reached the climactic level of tiredness where everything and anything is
funny.
 
“I’m glad we’re all agreeing on this!” Jade nuzzles her face into Rose’s neck.
“How do you think it’s even possible that four people can all just fit in with
each other so well? You would think that the more people involved the more
complicated things would get.”
 
“Mmmm,” you hum softly. “Who knows? Maybe we were all lovers in another life.”
 
* * * *
 
“There’s not much left to do, really.” Dad says. “You should probably be
heading out soon, things are supposed to start shortly.”
 
“Oh, geez. Oh, oh my god.” Is all you manage to get out.
 
“Well. Are you ready?”
 
You laugh at that. “Pretty much never, but I’m doing it anyway.”


Chapter End Notes
     whooooweee . . . thanks for sticking with me thus far guys. I hope
     this chap was worth the wait.
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