Chapter Text
You didn’t mean for it to go this far. It started out as a harmless gesture-of-kindness-turned-prank. Well. Sort of. You can explain, really!
==> Explain.
You thought it was pretty cool (if a little irresponsible) that Dave’s Bro let him stay up so late! It was nice to not have to worry about Dave going to bed earlier than you, even though he lived in a different timezone. And it was kind of funny how silly Dave would be when you logged on to pesterchum in the morning, having stayed up all night when you were getting a good night’s rest.
Well. It wasn’t that funny. You actually kind of wish Dave wouldn’t stay up so late. You’re actually kind of sort of worried about him, if you’re honest with yourself. But whenever you try to talk about it, he just brushes you off!
ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering turntechGodhead [GT] at 6:17
EB: woah dave what are you doing up so early?
TG: earlys a relative term like whats our basis here for early
EB: uh well its still dark here
EB: that seems pretty early to me
TG: thats where youre running into trouble egbert
TG: sun never sets in texas
TG: just keeps pounding down day after day soaking heat and misery into the sidewalk
EB: wow dave that’s kind of...depressing
EB: and totally not true??
TG: shit son you doubting my sincerity
TG: im hurt bro
TG: fuckin bleeding out here from all those sicknasty wounds your mistrust just dealt me
EB: that’s not what i meant! just that the sun sets everywhere
TG: nope not here im like the british empire
TG: sun never sets on this kingdom of cool
EB: ...
EB: dave, have you been up since last night?
TG: no such thing as night egbert
TG: just days and days and days
EB: come on dave be serious
EB: why don’t you ever get any sleep?
TG: because shut up egbert
TG: shut up and mind your own fucking business is why
ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG]
Hehe, that Dave, always--
No.
You know he’s supposed to be cool and all, but sometimes. Sometimes you wish Dave Strider was just a little less of a fucking jerk.
==> Be the fucking jerk.
Shitgoddamnfuckingtittymunchingsmuppetfuckerasshole.
You know John’s just worried about you. You know that. But sometimes you just end up saying exactly the wrong thing. You’d blame it on the sleep deprivation, if you were willing to acknowledge that that was what was going on here. But that was ridiculous. Dave Strider, suffering from insomnia? It was such an aloof cool-guy trope, way too overdone and lame for someone like you. You’re just not tired is all. It has absolutely nothing to do with worrying about being ambushed with smuppets every time you close your eyes. Nope, you completely and totally do not have nightmares about Bro’s sick puppets. You don’t jump out of bed at every little noise, worried that Bro’s about to pull another one of his you-should-always-be-prepared-to-fight-for-your-life late-night attacks. Nope. Not you. Because that would be so completely not-cool. Which is the thing that you’re not. You’re not-not cool, which is like being cool except a million times okay you know what these linguistic gymnastics are too much for you to handle right now let’s just drop it.
This isn’t the first time Egbert’s shut down one of your pesterchats after you started insulting him, but you think this time, you might have gone too far.
So when you get a package a few days later post-marked Washington, you’re filled with equal parts relief that he’s still talking to you and worry that this is his goodbye letter (because he would be just the kind of guy to think a pesterlog was too informal a medium to end a friendship over). Not that you’d ever let either of those emotions show. At least, not until you’re back in your room, opening the package where your Bro can’t see you.
When you pull a CD out, you’re first reaction is to snort. A mixed tape, Egbert? Really? Is it possible he could be jonesing for your ass in a more clichéd fashion?
You unfold the note that came with it.
hey dave! i was sitting here thinking to myself, you know what’s super lame? all those beats dave’s always mixing! i should totally send him some of my music and give him some sicknasty BURNS with all this coolness i’m packing!
hehehe, just kidding. but listen to this when you go to sleep tonight (or today, since the sun never sets on the land of lame :P). let me know if it helps!
~ectoBiologist (john)
You pop the CD in, curious. First, though, you put your headphones on, securing them over your ears so that there’s no chance of Bro hearing whatever lame music John’s trying to prank you with. Then you hit play.
It’s—piano?
You blink, putting your head in your hands after the first few measures, concentrating on the music. It’s—not bad, really. Just not the kind of thing you’d normally listen to. Sort of...soft. Inviting. And there’s this thrumming under it all that John must’ve edited in, like a call to slow down, breathe, just re l a...
You jerk up in your seat, confused until you realize that you were nodding off in your chair. A glance at your computer reveals that you’ve been out for a few minutes and have actually gone on to the next track. You eject the CD from the discdrive, moving to shut off your computer for the night (so what if it’s still light out, you’ve been up for almost forty hours, it’s night whenever you say it’s night) before thinking better of it and shooting off a quick message on pesterchum. Then you shut down, pop the CD into our walkman (owned purely for ironic purposes, of course) and stretch out on your bed.
You press play, starting from the beginning again, and there it is, that same piano refrain as before, with this deep humming underneath that makes it feel like you’re listening to the sound the stars would make if there was any air to carry their music to earth. You try to identify what Egbert used to make it, but then your eyes are closing, and you just feel kind of heavy, and soft, and...peaceful.
You’re asleep before the end of the first track.
==> Be the kid who’s packing all kinds of cool.
You can’t be him, he’s asleep!
==> Not that guy, the one with sicknasty piano beats!
Oh. That guy. Uh, okay? If you’re sure that’s how to best describe him (because it’s really not)...
You hear two pings in rapid succession, signaling that you have new messages on pesterchum. When you see that they’re from Dave, you find that you’re actually kind of nervous! Even though you plan to play it off as a joke if he doesn’t like the music you sent him, you really really hope he likes the music you sent him. You did all kinds of research (thirty minutes on the internet) to find the most relaxing tones! You even wrote some of the music just for him! And then there’s the bonus track you put in there, that could actually end up sounding really creepy oh god why did you send that CD what were you thinking.
You open up pesterchum, surprised to find that Dave has already logged back out. His messages are short.
turntechGodhead [GT] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 5:23
TG: thanks
TG: send more
turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB]
You grin, opening up the music program on your computer. It’s time for you to work your magic.