Archive of Our Own ^beta

Living with Dave Strider is not as easy as you imagined when he asked you to move in with him. You expected it to be early morning cuddles and making dinner together before lounging on the couch and wearing his sweaters to bed. Although you still did that, it wasn’t quite as romantic as you first thought.

Growing up with someone like Bro, Dave didn’t quite manage to learn all of the necessary life skills needed to be self sufficient. He had no clue how to work a washing machine, do any sort of cleaning, or cook anything really. One of the first things you did upon moving in was teach him how to make a meal without the use of a microwave or a takeout menu. He picked up easily, happy to learn under your guidance even if he did complain the entire way through.

You wonder sometimes if the only reason Dave asked you to move it was because he couldn’t live by himself. However he’d had his own apartment about a month before he asked you to move in and while he’d not let you visit him there, he stayed alive.

You quickly realised why he’d never let you in his sparkly new pad – it was a total mess. There were pizza boxes and paper plates on the floor, a pile of Chinese takeout cartons in the sink and unknown atrocities melted into the carpet. Yeah. You’d wanted to smack him upside the head when you saw it. He had grinned sheepishly in an attempt to calm your frustration.

Cleaning wasn’t exactly your forte either, your dad did most of that stuff, but you cleaned that place up until every surface sparkled… well, you know, except for the carpet.

“John,” your boyfriend calls needily from the couch.

“Yeah?” you call back from the kitchen. The living space of the apartment was open plan, meaning there was little escape apart from the bedroom or bathroom, not that you needed it.

“Make some green tea,” he essentially orders, although you knew it was a question even if he didn’t phrase it as such.

“What’s the magic word?” you tease even though you’re already moving to fill the kettle up.

“Please,” he drawls in his thick Southern accent. It always surprised you, Dave’s accent, when you met him on Club Penguin all those years ago, you never expected him to sound like that. When you Skyped him, you almost fell off your chair from laughing so hard. You’re an asshole, really.

Flicking the kettle on, you get his favourite mug out the cupboard – the one with #1 Mom on it, yours’ says #1 Dad – and pluck a green tea bag from the packet and throw it in. Dave likes his tea with a shit ton of sugar so you dump 3 teaspoons of sugar in there. It can’t be good for you, but you like the sweet taste it leaves in his mouth when he kisses you.

As the kettle rumbles to life noisily you move back over to the couch and find Dave in the exact same position you left him in: sprawled across the entire thing, legs looped over one armrest, head resting on the other.

“Move over fat ass,” you tell him. He grunts and sits up so you can sit down, but as soon as you do he shuffles forward a bit and flops down so his head is in your lap. You make an over dramatic oomph sound when he does so but he smiles up at you and you begin to run your fingers through his kinky hair.

Dave doesn’t wear his shades in the house, for which you are grateful. His odd red eyes stare up at you as his arms move to drag you down into the most awkward kiss of your life. It’s still nice though, you’re kissing Dave Strider, after all. You like to kiss slowly, savouring the slight chap of his lips and warmness of his dark skin so close to your own.

Your neck and back scream out in protest of being so uncomfortably bent over so you break the kiss with a gross smacking sound and so back to stroking his hair. He needs a cut but he says he wants dreads for the irony – you have no idea – so he’s growing up. It stands up almost on end when he doesn’t have it pulled back into a bun and you love how it feels through your fingers – course but soft.

“Kettles boiled,” you murmur when you hear it click.

“I know,” he says, sitting up again so you can go get him his damn green tea. The stuff’s disgusting, you have no doubts about that. You pour the boiling water into the mug and grimace at the smell that it emits. So, so gross. After disposing of the teabag, you put a little cold water in it and wander back through to the living room where Dave is now sat up properly so he can drink his plant water. You hand him to mug and mimic his previous position so you can shove your head in his lap. He chuckles and tries to ignore you so as soon as he puts his mug on the coffee table, you dig your fingers into his sides, causing him to double over with a hysterical giggle.

Dave is ticklish as hell. You found that out early on in your relationship when you were cuddling. As you were casually running your fingers along his side, he all of a sudden began to laugh and jerk like you’d shocked him. Being the respectful boyfriend you are, you’ve exploited this opportunity on many an occasion.

“John, stop, oh my god,” Dave yells between giggles, pushing your hands away with own. In the position you’re in, it’s a little difficult to really get him but you manage pretty damn well.

“John, John, don’t, dude why,” he tries but fails as you continue the assault. Suddenly, he stands and you are jolted from your spot and roll off the sofa onto the fluffy carpet with a disgruntled noise.

“Ow,” you sigh with a face full carpet.

“You okay down there?” Dave asks as he peers down at you.

“No,” you grumble, rolling over.

“Not sorry dude.” He flops back down on the couch and picks his mug back off the counter contently, leaving you on the floor.

You don’t really hate living with Dave that much, even if he is an asshole.