Genre: fluff, friendship, gen!
Characters: John Egbert, Jade Harley
→Cameos: Dad Egbert (sorta)
→Mentions: Dave Strider, Rose Lalonde
Spoilers: None, except for in my notes/character description, haha
Disclaimer: I do not own Homestuck or any related characters. This was written out of enjoyment of the series, and no profit is being made.
Notes: Written for 49thidentity's birthday yaaaay! Originally I was going to write something Harry Potter related but then The Harry Potter Lexicon briefly went down (THANK GOODNESS IT'S BACK) in the time I was writing and I had to switch ideas and this was the first thing that came to me!
AU Set-Up: The Homestuck universe, had Skaianet never existed. Basically, SBURB, Sprites, and ectobiology don't exist, so there are no crazy paradox clones or meteors and probably no time shenanigans, boo. The trolls still exist in this universe, but as humans, but that's for spin-off/continuation fics or something. ANYWAY. The kids are now 18/19 and off to college, where various slice-of-life type things start to happen.
“My fingers are starting to get wrinkly,” John says, and lifts his hands out of the sink, tiny soap bubbles popping silently on his arms.
“Mine too!” Jade giggles and returns to scrubbing egg off the bottom of the plate she was working on with a cloth, until she gives up and uses one of the dirty forks. “I miss your dishwasher.”
“I miss it too,” John replies, filling a ceramic mug with water to wash away the brown residue of coffee dried at the bottom. “But Dad’ll find the part he needs to fix it today! I hope. I mean, he knows what he’s looking for and it’s gotta be in one of the stores in this town somewhere, right?”
“Right!” Jade finishes scraping most of the egg into the compost bin beside the sink and tosses the fork into the water, where it sinks beneath the soap bubbles. “You know John, I hope you won’t let the dishes pile up like this in our house.” She grins as she starts scrubbing the remnants of yolk with her cloth again. “Rose and I will probably use the sink for actually washing dishes and stuff.”
John raises his eyebrow high above the frames of his glasses. “Well, what will you use it for? We don’t have a dishwasher in the house, right?”
“Student housing, John! We’re lucky enough with what Dave found us.”
“Then your grandpa can totally buy one for us! Or you can make one!” John decides to utilize his great prankster handiwork to silently put down the now-clean coffee mug and use the Special Case Battle Command Tickle. Jade squeals with laughter, the plate in her hand slipping back into the suds as she smacks at his shirt. “Smarty McEngineerpants!”
Fifteen minutes later, both of them have soap in their hair and wet spots on the shoulders of their shirts. Their faces hurt from smiling and their sides from laughing.
“You’re plenty smart too, Mr. Biology,” Jade grins up at him, her glasses flashing in the sunlight.
“I know I am,” John says, smiling proudly as he dries Jade’s forgotten plate. “Me and my dad, we’re smart, funny, manly bachelors-” Jade starts laughing again, tossing her head back, “-don’t laugh! And I’ll totally help you and Rose do the dishes this year.”
“But not Dave?” Jade asks, washing the egg out from between the tines of the fork she had used earlier.
“Of course I’ll help him! He’s my bro.”
“Good!” Jade beams. “If the four of us are going to live together for a whole school year, we’re going to have to get along.”
There’s a long lapse in the conversation and the kitchen is silent save the sound of water sloshing around their forearms, plates clinking against each other in the plastic drying rack. Their fingers look like raisins by the time John stops to stare out the window at his old tire swing.
“We’re going to live together, Jade. All four of us.” He turns and his grin is wide and nervous and contagious. Jade smiles back and if she wasn’t so happy at the idea – living with her three best friends – she thinks she would cry.
John pulls her against his side in a wet half-hug as the car pulls up in the driveway and the sun slowly makes it way across the sky.
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