[001: this isn't my island.]
Jade became lost then. She became lost in the sensation of Dave’s lips and how soft and warm they felt against her own. She was drowning and it was so magnificent. Much to her satisfaction, Jade’s thoughts became nothing but a fuzzy mess. She couldn’t focus on anything else aside from the fact that she had kissed Dave Strider not once, but twice.
And here he was, kissing her back. The coolest guy in all of paradox was kissing her ever so endlessly nerdy-self back.
It was like both time and space had frozen.
Jade ended the kiss a moment later. She tried catching her breath, her cheeks flaring bright red and her heart racing a mile a minute. She cleared her throat, offering a small smile.
“I need you too, Dave,” she said, her voice breathy and airy.
“Now let’s go build our shelter, okay? It’s getting late and this jungle is only supposed to get more dangerous at night.”
She didn’t know whether she was talking so fast because she was feeling shy and awkward or if she truly wanted to get a move on. Jade figured that once they were safe and sound in a tree house, they could speak of their feelings and what had transpired. She only hoped their friendship wasn’t ruined by the romantic tendencies it seemed they both shared.
I need you too, Dave,”
What?
Oh, right, time to abscond. It was a damn good thing that he was quick on the uptake, otherwise Strider might have been left there making out with the air like some otaku kid having fucking imaginary relations with his hot ass animu wifu from whatever fandom was popular that week. Hands that had been itching to wonder were flexed cautiously, the boy slowly returning them to his sides as he took a single step away from the embrace.
Better safe than sorry. Any more and he might not be able to contain himself, extraordinary cool or not.
"I think the climate here is fucking with my system. Can't breathe and shit."
There we go, Strider. Tug at your collar and pretend it wasn't hot ass Jade Harley's fault that you couldn't seem to inflate your lungs to save your life. A rather hilariously ironic statement in itself, though if Dave passed out from this he was going to be really pissed.
The cool kid had no problem with waiting til they were in their tree house and away from the land of the mutant fucking Master Splinters to have this conversation, so she wouldn't hear any protest coming from this direction. Instead he would just lightly tap against the small of her back in indication that they move on ahead, dragging his nail along her hip before allowing it to fall away.
> Dave: Grab her hand and stroll jubilantly through the forest while screeching like a howler monkey.
Fuck no.
He would, however, at least walk close enough so that the back of their hands brushed together every other swing or so. Meanwhile captchaloguing all the best wood like this was some sort of lumberjack contest and he was fucking Paul Bunyan eating flapjacks and shit.
How big is my dick? Let's just say I pulled it out in Arizona once, and now there's a little thing called the fucking Grand Canyon.
Oh what is that? A pomeranian? Cute. Oh nah, I just have a goddamn giant ass baby blue ox and shit over here making the great lakes no big deal, really.
Fuck yeah.
"...What the hell am I talking about...?" the boy mumbled to himself.
