You are Dirk Strider, and you just took out three of your robots in a battle to the death. Those spars really tired you out sometimes. That is the point, of course, but, some days, it was more than you thought you could handle. A sigh escapes your lips as you settle yourself down in front of your computer. A well - earned break, you would like to think.

But the second you see the Pesterchum application flashing, and the name, you decide that this isn't much of a break at all, in the end. But, that's alright. It isn't as if it's RoLal. So it could be worse. Much worse. Easily. You don't hate her, of course, but she wore you down more than Jake did, and with much less effort, to boot.

You pull up the window to see that Jake had actually been bothering you for awhile, and has since seemed to give up, and leave. Oops.

— golgothasTerror [GT] began pestering timaeusTestified [TT] —

GT: Bro.
GT: Uh. Hey strider you there bro?
GT: Well i guess thats a negatory considering that its been fifteen minutes.
GT: Not even the auto responder today?
GT: Well alright get back to me later would you?

— golgothasTerror [GT] is now an idle chum! —

TT: Didn't set it today, I guess. My bad. I'll take momentous care to make sure I do that next time, just so we don't have this problem again.
TT: Did you need something, English, or were you just in the frame of mind to talk to me on a notion?

It doesn't take him long to get back to you. Long enough that you suspect you pulled him away from something he was otherwise entertaining himself with, but speedy nonetheless.

GT: On a bloody notion?
GT: Did you forget what day it is already?
GT: Thats a little disappointing but i guess its bound to happen once or twice.

… What day it is? Now it occurs to you that you hadn't checked the calendar once since you'd managed to extract yourself from the bed for the day. You spare the wall a quick glance to appease whatever itch it was Jake had for you to know —

— only to realize that today was the day. The day Jake had promised …

You're somewhat excited, you think. A little bit. After all, it had been near four months since that promise, and you've been curious on and off as to what it was he'd been keeping locked up in that addled brain of his. You won't outright say so, of course, because that's vaguely uncool and not ironic in the slightest.

TT: Of course I know what day it is; wouldn't be your bronevolent best bro if I didn't keep track of things like this.
TT: So what's up, English?
GT: *Laughs.* So you do remember! Brill!
GT: But i guess youve waited long enough to making you wait any longer would be kind of ridiculous slightly wouldnt it.
TT: Yet, you're stalling.
GT: Uh. Frig. Well i suppose it would seem like that wouldnt it?
GT: Its …
TT: Listen, if you're still uncomfortable sharing, English, don't worry about it.
GT: Huh?
TT: I've waited this long, it isn't going to kill me if I have to wait a little longer.

The statement had more meaning than Jake would be able to comprehend. To him, it would imply that a few months was no problem. The reality was you've managed to make three years nothing. At times, you've gotten a little impatient — particularly those times when you were testing sending him things only to discover that it wouldn't work with you, as well.

GT: …Haha.
GT: Strider you are absolutely mind-boggling sometimes.
GT: But youre by far the best friend i could have ever asked for.
TT: Hey, hey. No need to milk it, here. It's no big deal.
GT: Right right…
GT: I do have something else to ask though.
GT: And maybe it might put my mind at ease…
TT: Hm? Shoot.
GT: *Runs a hand through his hair.* Do you suppose … Er, do you think we might ever be able to *meet*…?
TT: …
TT: No.
GT: WHAT?
GT: REALLY!

You lean your chin into your hand, and use your middle finger to nudge your glasses into a more comfortable position on your nose. Jake's words were almost instantaneous and you could just imagine his fingers dancing over the keys, tapping away anxiously while he had some inward mental freak out.

You can't deny you feel slightly dickish for that, but you can't help but feel just a little amused, on top of that. Several times, Jake types something and seems to change his mind. You sit by, not sure if you want to wait for him to finish whatever thought it is he can't seem to get down or interrupt him. You decide to stop leaving him floundering, and set your hands back to the keys.

TT: Well, I mean …
TT: I don't really think we will so much as I know we will. Because I absolutely refuse to not see you, at some point in time.
GT: …O-Oh.
GT: I… Golly strider i…

You can see his blushing and the way he's probably tugging on the hem of his shirt, hear the way he stutters and the way his breath catches in his throat as he tries to find the right words that won't seem to form. Jesus, Jake is beautiful …

TT: No need to say it, I can already tell how goofy you must look right now.
TT: Needless to say, it's pretty dorky either way.
GT: …Would you like to confirm that?
TT: What?

It's your turn to fumble now. … Was he suggesting what you thought he was, just now? Really? … And did your heart just skip a bit? Not cool.

GT: I know you can read bro.
GT: Youve done it forever.
GT: So? Did you want to?
GT: That was what i wanted to ask you awhile ago… I just got my webcam today and it took a bloody while to ship out here so thats why we had to wait.
TT: Yeah.

You don't even really consciously realize you typed that until you see it on the screen in a blazingly bright orange. … You can't say you regret it, though, so that's good. You reach up to fiddle with your own cam, a bit, then figure it's probably good enough. Why are you so damn nervous … ?

GT: Alright well…
GT: Just a tick then!

— golgothasTerror [GT] is inviting timaeusTestified [TT] to share webcam! —

— timaeusTestified [TT] has accepted the invitation! —

When his image flashes up on your screen, you're torn between busting up in laughter, and hiding your face — as it is immediately robbed of the apathetic poker face that you usually displayed, and tinged with red. There he is, finally. Jake English. The British ( or, at least, you think he is ) islander jungle boy of your dreams. And he's as gorgeous as you had imagined — if not more so. And as it stands, he seems to have caught onto your embarrassment, and plays upon it by bringing his hands up and making two handgun motions, then winks at the camera.

Even though he's blushing as well, you feel a whole lot more ridiculous than he seems to. But then, he is a huge dork. It should be expected.

You grope around for the headset that should be somewhere around the desk, and bring it up hesitantly to hold the mic near your lips as your eyes scan the screen from behind your tinted shades. They don't do much to hide your utterly abashed visage, but they're a comfort despite. You only hesitate a moment to ensure you don't stutter when you speak — that would be extremely discomfiting — then allege the first words you've ever actually said to him:

" Jesus flippin' Christ, English; you are fucking ostentatious. "