Author's Note: Okay, so I thought since no one else has done it, I'd write a HetaliaxHomestuck fanfiction romance/drama! Lots of love and encouragement, please! This is my first fanfic, so it might be a bit sloppy. My apologies in advance!

Full summary: When John Egbert and his three friends finally receive their Sburb games, he decides to invite his funny, if rather uptight, friend Arthur Kirkland to play with them. Over the course of the game, the friends are finally graced with one another's presence in person. As they battle on through the game and befriend various trolls along the way, the friendly tension grows between John and Arthur. What if one has something to say that the other doesn't want to hear?
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Dave Strider was a cool guy. He was often asked to do cool things with his friends, like playing some computer game. The only other cool person who was ever even remotely as cool as him was his friend, Alfred F. Jones. Alfred, despite his less-than-cool name, was a man to be reckoned with who had a real nack for video-games and fast food. The two live fairly close to one another, so they often spend time together outside of Pesterchum, but what happens when Alfred suddenly doesn't have time for him anymore?

John P.O.V:

- - ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] - -

EB : Hey man! Guess what?

TG : What

EB : TP is going to play Sburb with us! I can't wait.

TG : Is that some kind of ironic pun? TP?

EB : No. And anyway, I'm going to connect with him as the client later on.

TG : Have fun. ER and I might play later on. Tell me how it is.

- - turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] - -

John slowly rolled his chair back from his computer, his hands gripping the ledge of the desk for support. Today was his birthday and he had gotten an amazingly cool Little Monsters poster, a slightly worn stuffed bunny from an equally cool Nic Cage movie, and a strange new game called Sburb that he was very excited to play with his friends soon. He stood up and stretched his arms above his head, arching his back slightly. Making his way to the door he yawned, peeking outside. There was his dad in the kitchen again, cooking his Betty-Crocker-labeled death. John barrel-rolled down the stairs and out the front door, to his dad's car to get his copy of Sburb before something horrible happened to the car. Wouldn't want to have to go through any more trouble to get this game. Being the amazing ninja he is, John ninja-ed his way into the house and back up the stairs to his room, all without ever having to look at his dad or run into any of those disturbing harlequin dolls.

He shut the door behind him quickly, looking down at the two envelopes that contain the client and server copies of the game. After staring mesmerized at the Sburb logo for some time, he went over to his computer, setting the copies next to the monitor. He had a sudden urge to retrieve his arms from is magic chest, but thought that was the stupidest thing he could ever hope to have notion-ed, for his arms were hanging at his sides. He had just used them to set the Sburb games next to his computer. Moron. He sat in his chair in front of his computer and answered the pestering that had been piling up from his friend.

- - textbookProgrammer [TP] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] - -

TP : Ello, John.

TP : I got my copy of Sburb in the mail today.

TP : I can't wait to play with you.

TP : That is, if you're even still alive.

TP : Seriously, John, if you don't bloody answer I'm pouring hot tea on your face!

EB : Sorry, Arthur! I had to brave the face of devilish harlequin danger to retrieve my Sburb games, but I'm back now, safe and unharmed.

TP : That's a relief. So I spoke to Rose, and she said to read through the walkthroughs. They were scarcely cited and grew more and more difficult to comprehend, but as far as i understand, I am supposed to download the server and you the client.

John took the client disc's envelope and inserted the disc into his computer, watching as the load bar slowly inched its way across the screen. He got up and walked over to his various Nic Cage posters, grabbing a roll of tape and his Howie Mandel poster and taping it up along side the others. He stepped back and viewed his masterpiece with a critic's squint, holding his thumb in front of his eyes, turning it this way and that. After he was completely satisfied with how things turned out, he sat back down in his chair and turned his attention back to the agonizingly slow loading screen. When it finally finished, he pestered TP back.

EB : Done. Now what?

Behind John there was a loud crash. He turned to look and there was a toilet floating in the air behind his head.

EB : Is this really necessary? This IS my house you're wrecking.

Arthur dropped the toilet back in the bathroom and began cleaning up the scribbles across the walls and posters that John failed to clean. It bugged him that he could pass by such grotesque artwork along his Nicolas Cage movie posters without grimacing. It seemed that John was just cool that way, how he seemed to ironically scribble horribly obscene harlequin doodles all over his prized posters, and yet continue to spout that the clown-like creatures were abhorrent freaks of nature.

TP : My apologies, however it seems that the controls are extremely movement-sensitive. They might take some getting used to.

EB : Fine, whatever. Just, please don't wreck my oh my god WHAT DID YOU DO TO NIC CAGE?

John stared in horror, his mouth agape, at the disastrous sight before him. Arthur had torn straight through his magnificent works of art with his stupid bathtub and strange Sburb tools. A strange machine was scraping up against his new, true-blue Howie Mandel poster. Silent tears threatened to spill over from his eyes as he gazed about the disgusting remnants of his bedroom. If he ever got his hands on Arthur, that kid was dead.