Dave Strider has never had a proper Christmas. He’s gotten presents from his friends, he’s heard all the carols, hell, one time he even had a (plastic) tree in his room. But the fact remains that he’s never had a proper Christmas, and at the age of eighteen, John Egbert thinks that this should be illegal. So he decides to fix this.
The first day of December, Dave is woken up much earlier than he would like to have been by a 150 pound ball of excitement and teeth.
“Wake up, wake up!” John squeaks in his ear, fully dressed and grinning. Dave groans something that sounds like “Muhhh ten more minutes” at him and gropes around for his shades to block out the blinding snow-glare coming from the window “Nope! Not until we’re out of the bedroom, mister.”
Ever since they had moved in together, John had slowly but surely eased Dave into being more comfortable about showing himself. It had started off with him hiding his shades on the rare occasions he would take them off.  Eventually he just accepted this as a fact of life, and bore it as well as he could.
And when he finally manned up and kissed John on the mouth and moved permanently into his bedroom, the shades hadn’t moved with him.
“Tell me,” Dave grumbles, pushing him off and sitting up, a huge yawn ripping its way from his mouth, “what makes you think that it’s completely acceptable to wake me up at… six thirty in the goddamn morning?” He tries his hardest to glare at John, feeling discouraged when he just giggles in his face like he’s a little kid throwing a hissy fit.
“Because today’s special! It’s the first of December, you know what that means?” He’s bouncing up and down on his lap in his excitement, causing Dave to need to physically hold him down so he doesn’t break the goddamn bed.
“Uhh. No. Aside from it being Jade’s birthday.” Certain that he wouldn’t be getting any more sleep, he pushes John off the bed and swaddles himself in the blanket before he leaves the room. It’s his first winter up in Washington, and even with heating he still finds himself shivering. John trots behind him, practically yapping at his heels.
“Well, yeah, that too. But it’s the first of December! That means Christmas is coming really soon!”
Dave tries really, really hard to not roll his eyes. Every year, without fail, John would flip his absolute fucking shit when Christmas rolled around. He never got why it was such a big deal; every Christmas in his life had been Bro forgetting until the last minute, and handing Dave a wad of cash to serve as a present when the clock hit midnight. John would yammer on about how great the elaborate dinner his Dad had made was, while Dave had happily chowed down on slightly soggy fries and a hamburger. The only difference between any other day and Christmas was the addition of cash.
It looked like it was going to be different this year, though.
“What are you, three?” Dave says without any real venom. John just laughs and kisses the tip of his nose, making his way into their tiny kitchen.
“Just you wait. I’ll make you love Christmas.”
-
It’s pretty hard not to get caught up in an unfamiliar mood when John spends the entire day decorating, and singing, and baking for some unknown reason. When Dave questions him about it, reminding him of his hatred for baked goods, he just rolls his eyes and says “Just because I get sick of sweet things sometimes doesn’t mean the rest of you do. And we need gingerbread men.”
(Dave has to agree, when he tastes one. He’s fairly sure that he’s sexually attracted to John’s baking skills now.)
The entire day, John tries to coerce him into decorating. Dave kind of just stands there, stunned, at how much their tiny apartment manages to change in a few short hours. The walls are covered in lights and tinsel, paper chains crisscross their way across the ceiling, and mistletoe hangs from every doorframe. Dave doesn’t want to admit it, but when he goes out on an emergency poptart-and-milk run, he’s stunned when he comes back and sees this… explosion of Christmas cheer. It’s so shiny that he wants to cover his eyes, and it’s kind of… magical, too? Even if it’s all kinds of retarded.
He hurriedly shakes his head to recompose himself and puts the things away before John has a chance to tease him.
Jade and Rose, who are both staying with John’s dad for the holidays, come over for a birthday dinner. Jade is almost as excited as John about the whole Christmas thing, seeing as it’s her first one with all her friends, even if she’s a bit baffled by the whole concept of the decorations. They quickly go from eating like civilized people to flopping all over the couch, watching movie after shitty movie and drinking eggnog that is more alcohol than nog. Jade falls asleep sprawled over Rose’s lap before the third one finishes, and she has to be shaken awake to receive her presents.
Dave falls asleep on the couch, warm and safe and surrounded by his three favorite people in the world.
--
Two days later, he’s woken up with the smell of freshly cooked bacon and eggs. He sits up before he even opens his eyes, sniffing the air with interest.
“Happy birthday, Dave!” John sings, the bed dipping under his weight. Dave opens his eyes blearily, his stomach growling at the sight of the elaborate breakfast John had carried in on a tray. “I figured you’d prefer eating in bed. Mind if I join you?”
“Shit, why would I?” He eagerly begins to stuff his face, not even minding when John steals a bit of bacon from his plate. “What do you want?”
“Huh?” John says, looking politely confused.
“You’re givin’ me a breakfast fit for a king and bringing it to me in bed. What do you want, or what did you do?”
John rolls his eyes and tucks his head under Dave’s, hugging him tightly. “It’s your birthday, dumbass. Aren’t I allowed to do something special for you without wanting anything in return?”
Dave chuckles, nearly choking on his bacon. “There is no way you don’t want something in return.”
“Well, a kiss would be nice…” He says pointedly, and he doesn’t stop waggling his eyebrows until Dave finally complies. “We’re going out once you’ve showered and stuff, so dress nicely, alright?”
“Why John, are you asking me out on a birthday date?”
“Why yes, I believe I am.” He nudges him playfully in the side. “I’m going to get you to make a snowman with me, even if it kills me.”
“Don’t be so sure,” Dave replies, and nudges him off so he can get up to shower.
They end up making three snowmen, six snow angels, and a fort. The rest of the day passes in a haze full of snow, hand-holding and obnoxious Christmas songs blaring everywhere they go. Dave catches himself humming along to “Silent Night” and has to elbow John until he shuts up.
That night, John wrestles him to the ground and ties a blindfold over his eyes, saying that they’re going on a surprise trip somewhere. Uncertainty gnaws at Dave but he goes along with it, figuring that John wouldn’t choose anything too bad for a surprise. The worst thing he could choose is going to the drive-in or something, and if that means being able to snuggle up in the back seat and leave the speakers outside the car, making up their own dialogue for the movies, well, that was just fine with him.
He pales when John pulls the blindfold off, holding a pair of ice skates with an expectant look on his face.
“No, no, a million times no. I am not putting those deathtraps on my feet. I’m sorry, you’re going to have to fire me and hire a new boyfriend who’s more open to the idea of falling on his ass and getting his fucking fingers sliced off. Nope.”
Ten minutes and a lot of begging later, Dave is wearing the skates and clinging desperately to the side of the rink. There are thankfully only a few other people on the rink; good, Dave thinks, less opportunities for my extremities to be lopped off. John loops him a couple of times, before grabbing his hand and leading  him away from the wall. “Come on, you’re not going to get any better if you cling to the wall the whole time.”
“Fuck, no, John, no, fuck, I’m going to fall and someone will slice off my fingers, fuck! Go slower!” Dave’s voice cracks and his free arm flails around manically, while John snorts and cackles like it’s the funniest goddamn thing he’s seen.
“Don’t worry m’lady, I’ll catch you if you fall! Come on, it’s just like rollerblading. Nobody’s going to slice off your fingers, I promise.”
It takes a lot of coaxing, but finally Dave stops panicking about falling and skates along with John, albeit a little slowly. John grabs his hand and twists their fingers together, pulling Dave closer. “See, isn’t this fun?”
“Yeah I guess.” Dave says grudgingly, not wanting to admit to enjoying himself. “You find enjoyment in the most moronic things, seriously.”
John just ignores him, gazing around at the lights wrapped around the trees nearby, and the far-off glow of the city lights. “Man, it’s really beautiful, isn’t it?”
He has to admit, it kind of is. The lights reflect off the surface of the ice, the stars are shining brightly above them. Everything seems to be glowing, John included. The lights reflecting off his dark hair makes him look like an angel, almost; Dave’s own personal holy ghost. Instead of saying this or any of the other cheesy shit that pops into his head, he chuckles and says “Is this the part where I say this view is better?” while fixing his eyes on John. John snorts unattractively and reaches up to kiss him, trying and failing to dip him. They both collapse to the ground, Dave squawking in annoyance and John splitting his sides laughing.
-
The rest of the month passes quickly, the two of them keeping nearly entirely to themselves with the exception of Rose’s birthday. Dave quickly loses track of all the Christmassy things John has forced him into; skating, sledding, caroling, Christmas movies, baking… He also quickly loses the will to protest against it.
The past month has been the most enjoyable out of the entire year, which is stupid; he just doesn’t do Christmas. It’s never been a thing that he enjoyed, or really even noticed. But by the night before Christmas he’s singing along with John, lingering in doorways so he has an excuse to lean down and kiss him, you name it. There’s a little spark of warmth inside him that starts to grow and won’t go away no matter what he does. So he does what seems most logical and just lets it happen.
And John, to his credit, says nothing. He doesn’t brag, he doesn’t say how he knew he’d get Dave in on the Christmas cheer, hell, he doesn’t even smirk. He just smiles and lets himself be kissed, and carols with him, and wipes Dave’s tears away when it looks like Tiny Tim is going to die in the Muppet Christmas Carol. He’s pleased with himself, that much is obvious, but he’s not obnoxious about it. Dave isn’t entirely sure why he’s pleased with himself, though; why would he be getting so much satisfaction over him belting out a few tunes and acting like a lovestruck moron?
Before he knows it, it’s Christmas Eve. They’re both curled up in John’s old bed in his old bedroom, their feet hanging off the end of the bed because really, they’re way too big for it now. The sleeping bag that his Dad had pointedly provided lies forgotten on the floor. John had scoffed at him when he tried to get in to respect his wishes or some shit, and pointed out that it was physically impossible for them to do any “funny business” (As Dad had quietly asked them not to do, much to their mortification) since they’d probably break the damn thing in half. The posters on the walls just barely cover up the graffiti John had scrawled in his sleep all those years ago.
Dave can’t sleep.
Somehow, the knowledge that everyone he knows and cares about (His friends, his brother and the other guardians, and especially his John) are all under one roof is keeping him awake. Maybe he’s overdosed on Christmas movies. Maybe their identical message of “don’t take what you have for granted” has been pounded into his head a little too enthusiastically. But the feeling of family and love is too overwhelming, far too intense to let him even close his eyes.
Family? Dave frowns for a moment. Sure, it sounded stupid even in his head, but they kind of were a family, as fucked up as their biological relations may be. They’d been to hell and back together, they had all died at least once, they’d made sacrifices and depended on each other blindly. If that wasn’t family, then he didn’t know what the hell was.
And John.
He’s always been there, even before It happened, he can’t remember a time that he wasn’t. As much as he might rib him about being a bit of a derp he was sharp as a tack, even if he was kind of silly sometimes. He may be like Pinocchio tumbled ass-first off a fucking turnip truck and started liking terrible movies and bad pranks, but he also liked being an all-around amazing person if the deluge of Christmas cheer and goodwill he’d been pushing on Dave the entire month was anything to go by. He has no idea what he’s done to deserve someone as wonderful as John, but he sure as hell isn’t complaining.
“Hey,” John whispers quietly, startling him. “Are you awake?”
“Yeah. Can’t sleep either?”
Dave hears rather than sees John shake his head, it’s that dark. The sheets crinkle as they move closer, arms and legs entwining closer for warmth. John lifts his head up and Dave can just barely make out the shape of his eyes and nose.
“Haha, yeah…” They drift off into silence, occasionally yawning or shifting to a more comfortable position. Slowly, the questions that have been running through Dave’s mind since the start of the month rear their heads once more, leaving him no choice but to ask.
“Question.”
“Shoot.”
“Why… I mean, what did…” He tucks his head into John’s shoulder, pressing his forehead against it. “Why’ve you been trying to get me all Christmassy all month? I’m not saying I didn’t enjoy it, but what were you getting out of it?”
John goes silent for a few minutes, long enough for Dave to start nudging him to see if he’s awake. “It’s just Christmas has always been a really special time for me, and you’ve never experienced it like I have. And you’re really special to me, so I wanted you to have a proper Christmas for the first time ever. And it looks like you have, so that’s made me pretty happy. That’s what I got out of it.”
Dave laughs softly, feeling sleep encroaching upon him now that his question had bee answered. “Shit, babe, you didn’t need to do all that to make it special. It would’ve been just as special anyway.”
They fall into an easy sleep, holding each other close.
--
Dave Strider has his very first proper Christmas at the age of nineteen.
The twenty-fifth of December, he’s woken up just when he would like to be by the sound of delightful squealing from a floor below. The (real) tree touches the ceiling and is decorated from the very top to the very bottom, and the sun shining off the snow outside makes everything look like it’s magical. His family is all together again, and he can’t remember ever being happier.
 “Having a good time?” John asks him at some point during the day, wearing an ironically horrible sweater that Rose had knitted for him. Dave nods, causing his paper crown to topple off and flutter pointlessly onto the floor.
“Yeah. Thanks for… yeah.” He finishes lamely, and grabs John around the waist, pulling him in. “Look up.”
John looks up, and then laughs. “Dave, there’s nothing there, you dummy-“
“Use your imagination.” He grabs behind his head and pulls him in for a kiss.  John giggles and kisses him back, ignoring the catcalls it attracts from the girls (and Bro) “Merry Christmas,” Dave says a little breathlessly when they surface, giving Bro the finger as he makes smoochy faces at them.
“Merry Christmas to you too.”