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You stared at the Strider boy who laid himself out in your bed as he stretched his bare torso out. He was weary of the morning, and you honestly thought he looked more innocent waking up than he did just walking around. Maybe because he wasn't wearing the pair of sunglasses that lay folded on the nightstand next to him. You were confused (yet not surprised) by the fact that he was refusing to open his eyes to you.

"Good morning, Strider," you greet with an admirable chuckle, catching his attention as his head made a sharp turn to your direction, his eyes still closed. "Go back to sleep if you're still tired."

He simply shook his head with a sarcastic smirk playing his lips like a flute. "Fuck no," he rejected somewhat harshly. "Not without my teddy bear." He held his arms open like a child begging for a hug and even gestured with his hands for you to come back to the bed you were once in. You were glad that he couldn't see the blush that emanated off of your cheeks at that moment. You hesitated for a mere second before joining him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a sweet embrace.

He threw both you and he onto the bed where he snuggled your forehead in a childish, adorable manner. You couldn't help but giggle at him. "I never thought the infamous Dave Strider would be as cuddly as a smuppet," you teased him, earning a look of "you did not just say that" from the boy... with his eyes that remained shut.

"Smuppets are no where near the fucking definition of cuddly," he retorted, sounding rather mortified by the idea of getting chummy with one of the various plush-rumps Dirk has lying around their own apartment. "If you look up the word 'evil' in a dictionary, you will find the word 'smuppet' right beside it, followed by a picture of those colourful, stuffed... things." He paused, as if thinking for another example. "They're horrifying little fuckers, (reader). They're everywhere."

Laughing at his rant, you shift so you could caress his pale face. "Geez, you need to calm your shit," you comment. “You need some AJ.” You suggested before breaking away from his embrace for a moment to leave for the kitchen, earning a whine of protest that only an extremely young child could create and a yank of your wrist back to the position you were before.

"If you leave," he began, pouting at her in a playful manner. "Then I'll be cold and all alone--"

"--Dave--"

"And then the evil monsters--"

"Smuppets, I assume--"

"-- Will come and smother me in their malicious, felt-and-cotton-filled butts. Then there'll be no more space for cuddling! You won't get to feel up my amazing bod, (reader), and everyone knows that getting to see me even shirtless is an opportunity of the life time."

Suddenly, the room was silent as you crawled under the blankets to snuggle with the boy once more. You didn't realize that he, in fact, was shirtless. Or, you just weren't exactly paying attention to what he was wearing, only because you were far too busy trying to comprehend that Dave, your best friend, shared a night with you in quarters that were closer than you could ever imagine. To be truthful, you weren't all that into him at first. Actually, you held some sort of irritation towards him until he accidentally bumped into you in the hallway and helped you clean up whatever mess he'd caused to be created.

And because of that very day back in high school, you and he were just close friends. You never imagined that you'd get this close and personal with him, however.

Actually, you were completely flustered when you realized that he wasn't wearing any pants either, nothing that covered the manhood that was also resting. You were impressed with how large it was and almost intimidated, and as of that moment, you were scolding yourself once more for not remembering all that his "lil' man" could've possibly done to you.

Cuddling up to him, you felt him shift as his right leg slipped between your legs but didn't rub. You concluded that he was just trying to get a little closer and search for a new comfort zone that you'd accept. You then looked up to him to see that he still hadn't opened his eyes, leaving you a little frustrated by the fact that he wasn't going to let you, the person that he just spent the night with, see the glory of Dave Strider's irises.

"Hey, Dave," you whispered, earning a slight hum of acknowledgement from the boy next to you. "Open your eyes."

He grinned and squinted his already-closed eyes, letting out a small laugh. "Oh, hell no," he replied. "Do you understand what would happen to you if you got a glimpse of my eyes, (reader)?" You shook your head, urging him to continue. "Your entire existence would be corrupted by the intense amount of sex appeal; your body would be wracked by the extreme arousal you'd gain. Your ovaries? They'd explode from the destructive orgasm you'd reach."

You were quiet, completely ridden by disbelief towards his self-centered joke. "All just from looking at your eyes?" you asked him, making the disbelief heard.

"Mmhm," he nodded, confirming his story. "But for some reason, that didn't happen to you last night. Must've been because of the vodka interference." He teased, pretending to be hurt by the ordeal. "Shot down my mojo. It wasn't cool."

You laughed as you caressed his neckline with your somewhat cold hands, eliciting a shiver from him. "It's probably because I've learned how to resist a Strider's charm," you taunted him, giving him a devilish look.

"Didn't stop you from your lust-rage last night."

You smacked him playfully, earning a mischievious grin as he flinched slightly. You couldn't help but laugh at him and his stupid stories that portrayed you as the catalyst from the night before's tryst. "I was drunk, Strider," you inform him. "Just show me your eyes and I'll prove your theory wrong."

He cocked an eyebrow at you, sighing. "Are you absolutely sure about this?" he asked you, hearing you giggle from his question.

"Dave, you're acting like you're taking my virginity," you stated. "I'm 100% positive about this."

"Didn't I take your virginity?" he pondered, stalling.

Your cheeks flushed completely at the realization that he, in fact, did pop that cherry of yours that remained untouched for a majority of your life. "J-j-just show me your eyes before I make you sleep on the couch alone," you threatened, studdering. You mentally smacked yourself for losing your cool on the subject.

"Fine, fine," he smirked, feeling rather victorious with himself as he heard you stammer your words like Porky Pig from the Looney Tunes characters. "Don't blame me if you can't take it." You anticipated the moment you'd be able to gaze into his endless pools of garnet red eyes.

Finally, the moment came. His eyes were wide open and staring you down like a police officer during an interrogation. If anything, you actually did feel incredibly intoxicated by the beauty they portrayed. You didn't feel any sort of lust, just a hypnotized notion that hung in the back of your mind like an image of an old childhood friend that you haven't seen in what felt like an eternity.

"Wow," you mouthed, trying to fight back the feeling of him digging deep into your brain to read every thought you ever had about anything. In fact, you were trying your best to reflect the feeling back at him. Obviously, that wasn't going to happen. "Dave, your eyes are... beautiful," you compliment, completely oblivious to the fact that you'd broken the Strider's guard by the comment.

His face was tinted with a gentle pink colour resembling the colour that belonged to cherry blossom trees. "B-Beautiful...?" he repeated in whisper.

You nodded, finally waking up from your small daydream to lean up to his face, him mimicking your actions. You literally shocked yourself when you felt his lips collide with yours in a sweet, passionate explosion of metaphorical vehicles. What surprised you more was how fluffy the whole situation seemed. You usually thought of Dave as a, "go down on me within the first second of a kiss" kind of person. But, you were wrong.

You felt butterflies take lift off from the pit of your abdomen to the tunnels of your throat, tickling your insides as they searched for the field of roses they managed to find only hours ago. You reached your hands up to the back of his neck to pull him further down for a better angle, all the while feeling his arms tighten around your waist into a protective hold.

This boy was driving you nuts, and you were glad that you'd be able to remember this moment instead of searching the millions of file cabinets for the missing memory of him taking what you were trying to preserve for a special someone.

Turned out, that special someone was no one other than Dave Strider, and you couldn't have thought of anyone better.