
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/328201.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Homestuck
  Relationship:
      Dave_Strider/Dirk_Strider, Bro/Dave_Strider
  Character:
      Dave_Strider, Dirk_Strider, Rose_Lalonde, Auto-Responder, Roxy_Lalonde
  Additional Tags:
      Incest, Parent/Child_Incest, Sibling_Incest, Dubious_Consent, Stridercest
      -_Freeform
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-01-27 Completed: 2012-02-13 Chapters: 7/7 Words: 35418
****** People Don't Do That ******
by orphan_account
Summary
     Superstar Dave Strider comes home to discover his little brother
     wants to jump his bones and won't take no for an answer. WHOOPS!
     Fill for the kinkmeme:
     "I'd like to see an Alpha Dave/Bro fic where -- although he's younger
     -- Bro is clearly still the one in control. Like,Daveis the one being
     seduced and taken advantage of."
***** Chapter 1 *****
"It's solid, but you still need to change the subtitle."
"I don't see what's wrong with it."
"Electric Boogaloo is played out."
"The staleness is the point &#x2014;"
"Maybe that'd fly if that were what you were actually trying to do, but it's
not. Electric Boogaloo isn't played out enough for that to work. You're an old
man trying to stay culturally relevant by reaching into a stale jar of dead
memes long picked over by the kids, but the only thing you accomplish in doing
so is making yourself look even more behind on the times than you already are.
You're better than this pedestrian tier one ironic gesture."
"First of all: thirty-fucking-three is not old &#x2014;"
"Like I said, ancient."
"&#x2014; second, Breakin' 2 came out in 1984. This is hardly the domain of
'the kids'."
"A meme's peak relevance isn't always directly tied with the inception of its
source content, and it's fairly clear that your decision to use it in the title
is a response to its contemporary propagation &#x2014; specifically, its
transformation into a shorthand for a markedly absurd and unnecessary sequel
which has all but divorced itself from any connection to Breakin' 2 itself
&#x2014; and not a rad retro callback to the yesteryears.
"And even with that aside, pop culture references are the last refuge of humor;
simply mentioning something doesn't make substantive comedy, you have to
actually do something with it. Electric Boogaloo has no contextually
significant relevance to the content of the movie at all and its implications
are not explored in any meaningful capacity. You have to go further than that
if you want your work to have any lasting cultural impact beyond a couple of
chuckles from whatever group of internet teenagers happens to currently be
tossing around a given meme."
"SBaHJ is already built on a solidly self-contained framework of irony. One
reference isn't going to undo everything I've established."
"Maybe not, but don't try to tell me you couldn't come up with a better title.
You should aspire to define and manipulate popular culture, not platitudinously
play to the whims of a transient zeitgeist. Make the new Electric Boogaloo."
"You are such a little brat."
Dave pushes open the theatre doors into parking lot, reflexively shielding his
eyes against the glare of the Texas sun. His sunglasses hang from the collar of
his shirt; so ubiquitous is his sleekly dressed bespectacled image that he
finds himself a modern day Clark Kent, a change of eyewear between obscurity
and conspicuity. Dressed casually in jeans and an ancient tie dye shirt that
would have been supremely obnoxious had a decade not caused its colors to all
but fade away entirely (a gift from his kid brother, mocking given; worn with
the same ironic spirit with which it was bestowed, though the years have imbued
it with a sentimentality that Dave admits is just a little bit sincere), the
superstar has managed to attend a test screening of his own movie and escape
relatively unmolested, the eye-assaulting enormity of his creation aside.
Dirk steps through the held open door &#x2014; with no thanks, of course,
because that's not something they do &#x2014; and makes a brisk pace to where
the car was left parked. As Dave trails leisurely behind, he notices that
arrogant little skip in his step the kid gets whenever he thinks he's just won
an argument; Dave's decided he's going to make the call tonight, so he
basically did, but Dave doesn't have to let him find that out today.
As Dave approaches the car in the lot, he goes to dig in his pockets for the
keys and is altogether unsurprised to find them missing &#x2014; Dirk is
gleeful in displaying his theft as soon as he notices that Dave has realized
they're gone, in dangerous proximity to the driver's side door. Dave puts on
his best impression of a Disapproving Dad face, though he has a feeling he's
not particularly good at it.
"No way, kid," Dave says, making a half-assed grab for the keys that Dirk
easily evades. "It's fucking rush hour traffic, I am not getting in a car with
you behind the wheel. You haven't even gotten your permit."
"Please, like I haven't been stealing the car since I was 12," Dirk retorts;
though his tone makes it sound like a joke, Dave knows that probably only means
he started even sooner.
"What the fuck did I hire those babysitters for?"
Dirk laughs. It's become something of a joke between them &#x2014; when Dave
came home from a shoot years back to discover Dirk had driven the sitter to
quit by building a robot facsimile to "do her job more efficiently and
effectively without being a fat stupid bitch", Dave gave up and figured the
brat could look after his own damn self. "Shut up and get in the car," the kid
says, sliding into the driver's seat. Dave makes certain his brother hears his
histrionic groan as he walks around to the passenger door.
The first thing Dave does after he settles into the car is put his sunglasses
back on, and instantly feels about a hundred times more comfortable &#x2014;
even the bright sun aside, he feels naked without them. The kid's fostered the
same habit with his own pair of pointy shades; they look like a right couple of
douchebags, too cool for this peasant Earth, and that's half the fun. Also,
completely true.
Dave is immediately terrified the moment Dirk turns the key in the ignition. He
has seen some shit in his life, but there is seriously little else more
horrifying than getting into a car driven by a fifteen year old. Dave finds
himself fidgeting and slamming on phantom breaks, and they're on the road for
about thirty seconds before Dave is convinced he's going to die.
"Holy shit, slow down."
"I'm barely doing 45."
"It's a 25 zone!"
"Who the fuck drives the speed limit?"
"No one, but if you're pushing more than like 7 over we're gonna get pulled
over by a cop."
"There are no cops around."
"They fucking hide, dumbass, slow down."
"What's the point of being absurdly famous if you can't get out of a speeding
ticket?"
"You don't even have a fucking license, I'd get a hell of a lot more than a
speeding ticket."
"My point stands."
"I am this close to murdering you."
Dirk takes exacting care to drive precisely 7 miles an hour above the posted
speed limit for the rest of the trip, doubtlessly calculated to annoy Dave
&#x2014; but he bites his tongue and is thankful for any little thing that
keeps his heart rate below "bursting out of his chest". Dirk makes a point of
being good at everything he does, and driving is no exception &#x2014; but
while he's certainly capable of handling it well, he seems to prefer being as
reckless as humanly fucking possible, much to Dave's displeasure.
Dave thanks a god he doesn't believe in when Dirk parks the car in the lot of
their apartment complex. He does his best to shake it off and pops the trunk
before stepping out onto the pavement. "Help me with my bags," he says to Dirk,
who begrudgingly obliges.
They start to get looks as they make their way into the building, but the
tenants mostly know what Dave's about and leave them be. They begin the long
treck up the stairs &#x2014; the elevator's out, again &#x2014; and Dave is
becoming increasingly wary of an impending midlife crisis.
"Why don't you just let me buy you a fucking house? Anything with less fucking
stairs, seriously," Dave grouses as they reach the fifteenth floor, weighed
down by the luggage and feeling exhausted. It's not like he's out of shape, but
it seems like the climb gets harder every time he does it. Dirk hasn't even
broken a sweat, and Dave is almost embarrassed.
"Why do you still wear that shitty shirt?"
"You gave it to me," Dave answers reflexively, and Dirk just laughs.
Dave wishes for death by the time they make it to the top floor. He shoves his
key into the lock of their apartment door, throws it open, and drops his bags
on the floor. The first thing he does when he steps into the flat is trip over
a dismembered puppet.
"Jesus Christ, bro," Dave curses, now conveniently located in a prideful
position on the floor. Dirk's schadenfreude appears to be in full swing today,
as evidenced by the snicker he makes little effort to hide. "This place is a
fucking mess. Hire a goddamn maid if you're too lazy to pick up after yourself,
I give you more than enough cash."
"I like it. Squalor and disarray are my patron saints," Dirk jests as he
finally offers Dave a hand to help him up, which he takes and uses to
unsteadily clamber to his feet.
Dave notices a couple of things at that moment: the kid is nearly taller than
he is now, which is new; that the only thing in the kitchen that isn't a puppet
or a broken robot is a half-eaten bag of cheetos, which isn't; and that Dirk is
still holding onto his hand, which he's not sure what to think about. He just
cocks an eyebrow wordlessly and the kid pulls away, embarrassed, as if he
hadn't realized he was doing it.
It's a while before Dirk speaks. "How long will you be staying?" He asks, in an
artificially even tone that makes Dave feel obscenely guilty.
"I'm not sure," Dave starts, rubbing the back of his head. "The sequel's pretty
much wrapped up, so until I sign on for another project, I can stick around."
"Do you have anything lined up?"
Dave wants to tell him no. "Few things kicking around, but nothing that's a set
deal. A couple of months, maybe. I don't know."
Dave could tell him no, but he doesn't. At this point he's got more money than
God, and could retire now and live comfortably for the rest of his life, but he
doesn't. He feels guilty and negligent when he's away months at a time to film,
but he knows he'll end up anxious and bored and itching to leave the moment he
comes home, so Dave has stopped making promises he knows he won't keep.
It's been a long time since Dave has seen Dirk last. They speak on the phone,
but probably not enough.
An awkward silence stretches between them when neither of them can figure out
anything to say.
"Want to watch TV?" Dave finally broaches. He doesn't want to watch TV, and
he's sure Dirk doesn't either, but the kid shrugs and agrees anyway.
They spend five minutes turning over the living area in search of the remote
before Dave gives up and just presses the button on the fucking TV and leaves
the channel as it is. Does anyone bother to learn how to change the channel
with the box? Dave sure doesn't care enough. He flops down onto the futon next
to Dirk and sits through a commercial in listless silence. He's positively
overjoyed when the greasy orange face of The Situation fills up the screen.
They are certainly not going to be bored.
The consumption of media in the Strider household is a transformative
experience. They make it their fucking own. Swiftly they settle into their
routine of vicious commentary; what would be a pathetic and embarrassing blight
on entertainment becomes high comedy, or at least enhanced by a plethora of
topical penis jokes.
A particularly uninteresting string of commercials interrupts their fun, and
Dirk unexpectedly poises a personal question. "Have you been seeing anyone?"
Dave is curious where that came from, but figures it doesn't hurt to answer.
"Nah. Haven't been on a serious date in, what, three years? Actually, wait, I
had a thing with the Foxy Slunt for a while, but that ended so badly I've
started repressing the memory."
"Oh."
"What about you? See any girls?" Dave asks. Loaded as hell.
Dirk briefly looks to Dave when he speaks, but doesn't reply. Dave raises an
eyebrow.
"Well, that's one hell of a non-answer."
The commercial break has ended, but now neither of them are paying much
attention to what happens to be going in or out of Snooki's vagina.
"I got what you were getting at, and you get what I'm getting at." He sounds
almost nervous. If that much bled through the Strider Front, Dave has a sense
of how uncomfortable he actually is. Sometimes it surprises him how much they
manage to communicate by deliberately obfuscating their emotions and avoiding
ever actually saying what they mean.
"I figured as much," Dave says quickly. He would be surprised they'd never had
this conversation before if Dave weren't so phenomenally good at being a shitty
absentee parent.
Another uncomfortable silence. Fuck, the kid's probably looking for him to be
supportive or some shit, isn't he?
"I mean, it's fine. Good, even. Whatever you wanna be, that's cool with me."
Dave immediately wishes he could have phrased that better the moment the words
leave his lips. He inwardly kicks himself.
Dave wants to fidget in his seat as the next awkward pause unfolds. The both of
them make a show of being transfixed by the television, though the tension has
cut the hilarious commentary dead.
After a long time, Dirk tenders a hesitant question. "Have you ever...?" He
keeps his tone cool and even, like he doesn't care about the answer, but the
way he's incapable of actually finishing the thought is telling.
"No," Dave replies, but the swiftness with which he answers makes his brother
stiffen perceptibly. He wants to leave it at that, but guilt pushes him to
further disclosure. "I mean, kind of. There've been times I've... wanted to,
but girls were always easier to deal with. Much more likely to be interested,
anyway."
All he has to say to that is "Oh," but Dave can feel the atmosphere of the room
shift. He lets himself relax a bit, and gets up to look around in the kitchen.
"When's the last time you went to the store? Seriously, there is absolutely
nothing here but cheetos. I am turning this sty upside down and failing to
procure anything that isn't a fucking puppet dong."
Dave turns around to see Dirk had, at some point, gotten up and moved to stand
behind him. He raises an eyebrow. "What?"
"I missed you, bro."
And then Dave suddenly realizes that Dirk is standing... awfully close. "Um.
Yeah, it's good to see you again, kid."
His expression is inscrutable. He doesn't want a hug, does he? The kid hasn't
wanted a hug in half a decade. Dave stiffens uncomfortably.
Uh, yeah, that sure is a hug. He awkwardly pats his brother's back and waits
for it to end.
Except it doesn't end. Instead, Dirk puts his lips to his ear, slips his hands
under the waistband of his pants, and whispers, "Want to fuck?"
WHAT
Dave jumps out of his fucking skin. He flips the fuck out in a random direction
and ends up toppling over backwards onto the futon. And it's just as well,
because Jesus fuck holy shit why the fuck do I have an erection?
He scrambles to the opposite end of the futon from where Dirk comes to stand,
putting as much space between him and his passively-onlooking brother as is
humanly possible, and does his best to conceal the other kind of uncomfortable
stiffness that has so inexplicably arisen. Actually, what's much more
inexplicable is how completely fucking explicable Dave is finding it. What he
most wants at that moment is to crawl under a rock and die, but second after
that is a passionate longing for the power to forcibly burn thoughts out of his
head.
Dave sputters a cacophony of unintelligible noises before finally composing
himself enough to spit out a half-coherent string of sentences. "Oh my fucking
god, Dirk! Fuck! What the fuck was that?! What &#x2014; just &#x2014; why!?"
The kid has his hands shoved in his pockets, calm as calm could be. He looks
amused, if anything. "Just a question," he answers with a flippant shrug.
There's no way he doesn't notice how blatantly Dave is trying to hide his
crotch. Oh god no.
Dave exhales shakily. "Don't. Just, fuck, don't do that. I nearly had a fucking
heart attack, seriously. Not fucking funny." It was a joke, right? It had to be
a joke.
Dirk isn't laughing.
"You're... you're serious."
"What if I am?"
Dave, for some reason, can't stop staring at his lips. He now wishes to gouge
his own eyes out. No. What the fuck, no no no, this isn't happening. "I&#x2014;
wow, I just. No."
His brother just raises his eyebrows, eyes pointedly trained at Dave's drawn up
legs. Oh fuck. "Why not?"
"Because you're my little &#x2014; Jesus, I'm practically your fucking dad!"
"Genetically speaking, I would be &#x2014;"
"You know that's not what I fucking meant, bro. I raised you. You're my kid.
People don't do that."
"Actually, a significant plurality of people have and do do that. Not that I'm
terribly concerned about what other people are or are not doing. That's
entirely irrelevant to our individual circumstance."
"That's not &#x2014; fuck, dude, incest."
"Wait, let me check something &#x2014; " Dirk mockingly pats around the top of
his head. "&#x2014; oh, huh, it looks like I'm not anencephalic after all!" He
drops his arms and crosses them across his chest. "Yes, addlepate, I am aware
of that. Since this point is apparently eluding you, what I am attempting to
communicate through my deliberately obtuse dismissals of your repetitive
objections is that I don't fucking care."
Dave gapes, speechless. He opens and closes his mouth repeatedly. After a long
period of silence, the only thing he can manage is "Why? Can't you find some
guy your own age?"
Dirk bristles; he's clearly touched some sort of nerve, but since Dave has kept
practically no tabs on the kid's personal life, he doesn't know what kind of
mine he's stepped on. Dirk quickly brushes it off and answers like it should be
obvious. "When you're as hot, hilarious and immeasurably perspicacious as I am,
the pool of worthy romantic prospects shrinks considerably. Who's a better
match for a Strider than another Strider?"
The kid never makes any move to come closer, but Dave feels trapped all the
same. He just wants to run and not fucking deal with this anymore, but there
isn't exactly any place for him to run to. His mouth has gone dry; he wets his
lips.
"Maybe you should go to your room for a while," Dave suggests, tone carefully
drained of any emotional inflection. Not a command or a reprimand; Dave would
very much like to bolt and lock himself away, but Dirk has the only other room
in the apartment that isn't the fucking bathroom.
Dirk stands motionlessly for a time, but eventually shrugs and turns to leave
without a word. He closes the door to the hall quietly behind him.
Dave has never been more utterly fucking dumbfounded in his life.
***** Chapter 2 *****
What the fuck do you do after getting felt up by your kid brother?
If there were ever a question more perplexing, Dave can't think of one. Sat on
a park bench with his laptop open beside him, he takes a drag from his
cigarette. He hasn't smoked in maybe ten years.
Dave hadn't even attempted to sleep. He sat on the futon for fifteen minutes,
took his laptop bag and fled. He left the rest of his shit behind, figuring
Dirk would realize that he just needed some time to himself, and wasn't bailing
out entirely.
Dave hopes it doesn't come to that, but he can't say he isn't considering it.
He could deal with the proposition. It's his own fucking fault for practically
abandoning the damn kid; it's obviously some desperate plea for attention as a
result of his negligence. He could suck it up and swing trying to not be such a
shitty parent.
What he can't deal with is how part of him actually wants to take him up on his
offer.
However fucking horrified of himself he is for even contemplating it, somehow
the floodgates were fucking opened and he has since been helpless to stop it. A
scenario repeatedly runs through his head where he takes it a step further,
turns it around instead of running away, bites at his brother's lips and slams
him against the counter and &#x2014;
He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to blot it out but it won't fucking go
away.
After leaving the apartment, he spent the better part of the night and the
early hours of the morning wandering the streets and accomplishing not much
other than being fucking disgusted by himself. He called his agent the moment
he knew he would be awake and set up an inconveniently early meeting with a
screenwriter whose script he already knew he would hate, but that did little
other than waste time.
So now he sits in the park, exhausted with dark circles under his eyes and a
cigarette at his lips doing nothing to calm his nerves. He has no more excuses
and nowhere else to run, but he sure as hell isn't ready to go back. He hasn't
come up with a single fucking answer.
Now seems about the time for last resorts.
Dave puts out his cigarette and signs onto Pesterchum.
&#xA0;
-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] --
TG: lalonde
TG: lalonde
TG: help lalonde i am moments away from death
TG: if i am unable to gaze upon the purply purple prose of a snippy bookshrew
within the next 10 seconds i am going to die of a broken heart
TG: itll be so fucking tragic you dont even know lalonde
TG: youll want to base a shitty book series off it but fuck if ill sell you the
rights and dont think my ghost wont sue you for everything you own
TG: lalonde stop sucking off gay wizards and talk to me
TT: My apologies, Dave. I have removed all of these errant wizardly phalluses
from my mouth, however reluctantly.
TT: What is it that you need?
TG: do you believe in miracles
TT: I assume my response to this question is an ultimately irrelevant stepping
stone to the undoubtedly riotous bon mot that is about to take form.
TT: I will simply sit back and allow myself to be blown into the next calendar
year by your sublime wit.
TG: that sure was a lot of dumb bullshit you just typed
TG: but no actually i just want to have a big gay feelings jam
TG: bust out the cherry garcia and pop in a lifetime movie
TG: doesnt matter which one they are all the same fucking movie
TT: Color me shocked.
TG: yeah thats right im actually willingly asking you to psychoanalyze me
TG: hope you had a change of panties on hand for when you mad creamed yourself
TT: I thought Striders didn't have feelings.
TG: we dont
TT: Curious.
TG: anyway my lil bro wants me to have sex with him
TT: ... Uh.
TG: yeah
TT: Wow.
TG: yes wow lalonde
TG: now how do i deal with this
TG: can you prescribe me some pills to make it go away
TT: Well.
TT: It isn't my intention to cast aspersions on you, but are you sure you
aren't just reading into something that is not actually there?
TG: whats that supposed to mean
TT: Are you absolutely certain that his intentions are overtly sexual? Is there
anything you may have misinterpreted?
TG: dude he like
TG: he literally fucking put his hand in my pants and asked me if i wanted to
fuck
TT: ... Oh.
TT: I see.
TT: That sure is a thing.
TG: yes lalonde it is definitely a thing that happened and continues to be a
thing that happened as we speak
TG: it becomes even more happened with every breath we take
TG: fuck
TT: Do you want to?
TG: no jesus dick that would be the most illegal move in the history of
parenting of course i dont want to
TG: it is the absolute last thing in the world i want to do
TG: if you asked me to write a list of things i didnt want to do it wouldnt
even be on the fucking list because i would never have even contemplated it
being a thing that could even be fucking thought
TT: Then what is the problem?
TT: He's just a kid; tell him no and why it's wrong and be done with it. He
can't make you do something you don't want to do.
TG: because
TG: fuck i can barely even will my fingers to type out this god awful shitstain
of a sentence
TG: i also kind of want to
TG: does that make any fucking sense at all
TT: No.
TT: But also yes.
TG: its just like
TG: hes my goddamn baby
TG: i fed him and raised him and changed his fucking diaper
TG: theres no way i could think of him that way it is fucking wrong and gross
TG: but then he does this thing that MAKES me think of him that way
TG: so on top of the whole wow gross he is my kid gross thing
TG: ive got this holy shit what the fuck is wrong with you are you some kind of
pedophile child molester thing
TG: so i basically feel double wrong and gross
TT: Pedophilia is the attraction to prepubescent children. Your brother would
be well outside of that range.
TG: shut up you know what i meant
TG: what the fuck am i supposed to do
TT: What do you want to do?
TG: i just want this to have never happened and i dont want to ever think about
it again
TT: Sadly, not a realistic option.
TG: yes lalonde i am painfully aware of that
TG: i need to make this stop but i have no fucking idea what to do or how
TT: Have you tried speaking to him about it?
TG: how
TG: how do you have a conversation about something like this
TG: yo sup dog lets have an in depth heart to heart about my penis and how much
you cant have it
TG: i cant even form a coherent thought about this let alone formulate an
actual argument and then speak it
TT: You're doing a perfectly fine job now. Tell him what you're telling me.
TT: Probably minus the "I want to" part.
TG: man its not the same when i got his smug ass voice mouthing off back to me
TG: like everything i could say that isnt completely fucking retarded just dies
in my throat and gets replaced with idiotic buttflustered bullshit out of
nowhere
TG: and honest to god i think im seriously fucking afraid of him
TG: im afraid of what hell do and im afraid of what ill do if he keeps doing
what im afraid hell do
TT: A fairly obvious solution presents itself.
TT: If speaking to him face to face is difficult, why don't you talk to him on
Pesterchum?
TG: ugh no hes even more infuriating to talk to on the internet
TT: Then do nothing.
TT: Let this sore fester and spread until there is nothing viable left of your
relationship.
TG: ugh lalonde
TG: ugh ugh ugh ugh ugh ugh ugh ugh ugh ugh
TG: look at all these ughs i have lalonde theyre just slipping through my
fingers
TG: im scrambling on the ground trying to pick them up but theres just too many
TG: ill never be able to hold them all
TT: Your facetious deflections are awfully cute, Dave, but also entirely
unhelpful.
TG: fine
TG: ill do that i guess
TG: and thanks
TG: for not freaking out and everything
TT: It isn't my place to judge you or vilify you for feelings you have no
control over, provided the actions you take are wise.
TG: i really do appreciate it
TG: also when are you gonna let me adapt your shitty wizard books
TT: I would not allow you to lay your grimy hands on my work in a million
years.
TG: cool just checking
TG: talk to you later
-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] --
&#xA0;
Shit. Now he has to like... actually do that.
He opens the pester window.
He closes the pester window.
He gets up and paces around the park, cursing audibly. The only other person
there is a passed out homeless man, who jolts awake and seems unhappy about it.
Dave moves as far away from the hobo as possible, sits down on another bench,
opens his computer, types the hastiest fucking message possible, sends it, then
sits with his palms pressed into his eyes until he hears the expedient chime of
Dirk's reply.
&#xA0;
-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering timaeusTestified [TT] --
TG: sup lil man
TT: Oh, what a pleasant surprise. To what do I owe the honor of being graced by
your digital attentions on this most auspicious of afternoons?
TG: yeah leave the attitude at home junior
TG: its time for us to have a big boy chat
TT: Fifteen is not five.
TT: I have a hunch that our communications could be more ameliorable if I were
not treated as if I were.
TG: no thats what this is about
TG: you are my kid
TG: i will never not think of you that way
TG: no matter how old you get that isnt going to change
TG: ever
TT: I see.
TG: no you really dont
TG: god knows you probably see this as some sort of challenge but its not
TG: it is an immutable fucking fact
TG: you are banging your head against a brick wall and that will accomplish
nothing but getting you hurt
TT: Thanks for your concern, bro, but I think you'll find I'm more than capable
of handling myself.
TT: It seems you're the only one getting unduly worked up about this.
TG: no fucking shit of course im worked up about it
TG: do you have any idea how hard this is for me
TG: and dont you fucking dare type some dick joke at me i will murder you dont
think i wont
TT: Ok, I won't.
TT: But it's still hard, though, right?
TG: oh my god
TT: A genuine inquiry isn't a joke. I do believe I have successfully evaded the
parameters you established for my imminent death.
TG: i am literally tearing my hair out
TG: i have put my fists in my hair and i am pulling it out
TT: Ok, I'm sorry. That was me being a shit.
TT: But I really don't see the issue.
TT: I am not some vulnerable little kid at the mercy of your predatory
advances.
TT: This was a decision I came to of my own volition. You haven't "groomed" me.
TT: And let's be honest,
TT: You were never much of a parental figure to me anyway, considering you're
never around.
TG: wow thanks guy that makes me feel so much better
TG: but no
TG: thats not even the fucking issue
TG: the issue is that i dont want to do it
TG: and im not going to do it
TG: never ever
TG: this isnt a negotiation bro
TT: I'm not stupid. I know you're attracted to me.
TG: jesus fucking christ no
TG: scream
TG: this is the part where i would be throwing my biggest yells at you bro
TG: you can pretend i am just ricocheting off the walls propelled by the force
of the 20 mile long rage snake i am shitting out right now
TT: Ok.
TT: You can pretend I'm laughing condescendingly at your childish display.
TG: why are you doing this to me
TG: why cant you just let it be
TG: please
TT: Because it's something that I want, and I know the heart of your objection
lies with societal pressures and stigmata that I find to be petty and
irrelevant.
TG: have you just like not read a single word i said to you
TT: I read them.
TT: I also know you well enough to know it's bullshit.
TT: You're afraid of what people would think of you.
TT: You're afraid of doing something that you were taught to believe is wrong,
and moreover, that other people believe is wrong.
TG: of course im fucking afraid of that
TG: you should be too
TG: you know i could fucking go to prison for that right
TG: do you know how fucking far the tabloids would run with it if anybody found
out
TG: my life would be over and you would never even get to have one
TT: I'm already not going to have one.
TT: Meteors, et cetera.
TG: this again really
TT: Fine. Allow me to humor your stalwartly pigheaded skepticism, although I
would like the record to state that I still think you are being utterly
ridiculous considering the mountain of evidence that has accrued.
TG: ugh
TG: its not that i dont believe you
TG: im just not putting down every chip i have onto some magical fucking video
game destroying the world
TT: Whatever. I don't want to go through this fetid horse shit again. Back to
the aforementioned humoring:
TG: always have to have the last word
TT: Look who's talking.
TT: Anyway. I'm not an idiot, and neither are you.
TT: I am sure you can manage to resist bending me over in the public square.
TG: ugh no stop dont even say shit like that
TG: what dont you get
TG: i am a public figure my entire life is under constant scrutiny
TG: if i make the tiniest mistake i will be done
TT: Woody Allen is still around.
TG: woody allen really
TG: jesus fuck if were comparing ourselves to woody allen just shoot me now
TG: also its different because one you are fucking fifteen
TG: two i am your actual legal guardian
TG: three gross
TG: four no
TG: five shut up
TT: Such compelling rhetoric.
TT: But, as you wish.
TT: I'll back off, if that's really what you want.
TG: yes that is really what i want
TG: and now in return for this great kindness you have done me i will pretend
none of this ever happened and i will never speak of it again
TT: You are a truly selfless man.
TG: yeah ok
TG: talk to you later kiddo
-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering timaeusTestified [TT] --
&#xA0;
Dave is shaking with anger and nerves and self-loathing, but a weight has been
lifted off of his shoulders all the same.
He can deal with this. If Dirk doesn't push it, they'll get through it. He'll
take him to the fucking zoo and the ice cream parlor and shower him with all of
the fucking parenting he never got until it's fixed and the kid never feels
like he needs to do something like that again.
He's still terrified all the same, and pesters Lalonde as one last delay.
&#xA0;
-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] --
 TG: hey
TT: You know, I do have actual work to get done.
TT: Each precious minute of mine you steal away is another tearful death threat
in my inbox, a poor soul devastated that I have not delivered the latest
awaited installment to his pudgy pork-like hands the exact moment he desires
it.
TG: shut up
TG: anyway i talked to him like you said
TG: and i guess things are ok now
TT: Oh?
TG: yeah
TG: i kinda shit the bed but in the end he backed down
TT: That's good.
TG: it makes me so fucking mad though
TT: Hold on, let me refer to my schedule.
TT: Oh, what's this?
TT: It looks like I have a solid day of productive writing booked, but never
mind that.
TT: I'll just clear everything out so I can listen to all of your problems.
TG: dont pretend you dont love every fucking second of this
TT: You've caught me.
TT: Anyway, do tell me what makes you so fucking mad.
TG: its just the way he fucking walks all over me
TG: he knows exactly what to say and do to make me lose my shit
TG: and then he ends up with the upper hand with his calmly condescending
bullshit that just makes me 20 times madder
TG: i swear to god he is exactly fucking like you its unreal
TT: That's flattering.
TG: no seriously
TG: if you were a hormonal teenage boy with no conception of boundaries or
basic fucking empathy
TG: thats him
TG: sometimes i think our kids must have been switched at meteor
TT: An amusing thought.
TT: But, as I understand, this is par for the course; it is the very nature of
adolescence to become enraptured with desultory insolence and driving one's
guardians to madness.
TT: My relationship with my own daughter has been similarly strained as of
late.
TT: They will grow out of it, given time and patience.
TG: want to trade
TG: id much rather have a kid who tries to piss me off through substance abuse
than one who does it by inviting me to a game of hide the sausage
TT: No.
TT: However infuriating she can be, she's my daughter. I wouldn't have it any
other way.
TT: And I think you will find that neither would you.
TG: stop being right its pissing me off big time
TT: Sorry, it's a curse I struggle with every day.
TT: And now, in all seriousness: I really do have to work.
TG: alright
TG: i think im ready to stop shitting in my baby ass diaper and deal with this
TG: go write your wizard slash
TT: Take care, Dave.
 -- tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] --
&#xA0;
Dave takes a deep breath and shuts his laptop. It's time to face the music.
***** Chapter 3 *****
Dave stands at the door of the apartment, hesitant.
Frankly, he's terrified. He has no idea how he's going to face Dirk, even if
the kid sticks to his word. He's embarrassed and ashamed and he wants nothing
more than to just run away.
But he doesn't. He puts his key into the lock, turns the handle and steps
inside. He realizes he's holding his breath.
There's no one in the living area. The short walk from the front door to the
hall becomes an insurmountable chasm that he can barely bring himself to cross.
But he's come this far already, so he puts one foot in front of the other until
he's suddenly standing in the doorway of his brother's bedroom, desperately
searching for where he misplaced his words.
Dirk looks up from his computer when he notices Dave's presence. His hair looks
wet. "What?" he asks; he seems a bit surprised, as if he weren't even expecting
Dave to come back.
Dave's mouth opens and closes. The expectant, impatient look steadily growing
across Dirk's face makes him even more uncomfortable. Eventually, he manages a
weak question, "I said I'd take you to the DMV to get your permit when I came
down here. Want to go?"
"Uh, okay. Sure. Give me a minute?"
"A-alright. I'll be in the car," Dave mutters, stepping back into the hall. He
takes a change of clothes into the bathroom, since he imagines he must not
smell fantastic at this point. He wants to shower, but part of him is afraid
the kid would pick the lock and jump him. Instead he settles for a splash of
water on his face and an application of deodorant, and heads out to the parking
lot.
                                       *
They ride in the car in complete silence.
The DMV is horrendously crowded. Dave does his best to keep his head down; if
anyone recognizes him, it'd be a fucking scene. Thankfully, the woman at the
counter seems to be at least 90 years old and doesn't look at them twice when
she hands them their number and the paperwork.
They take a seat on a horribly uncomfortable wooden and go through the forms.
It's short work, and they're quickly left to waiting in listless silence.
After an awkward fifteen minutes, Dirk attempts to establish some sort of
rapport. "Look at that guy over there," he mutters in a hushed voice, nodding
in the direction of another bench. "You think he looks like a crack addict?"
Dave looks. "Nah, that's meth." His eyes scan the room. "See that lady there?
That's a crack addict."
"She just looks tired to me. Also, pregnant."
"Oh, I didn't even see that. I thought she was just fat."
"How many fat crack fiends have you ever seen? I'm beginning to doubt the
veracity of your supposed drug addict identification expertise."
Dave laughs softly, his gaze falling over to his brother for a moment. Dirk
smiles, so warm and sincere that Dave dave is unnerved despite himself &#x2014;
he has to look away, and the spectre of discomfort falls over them again.
Dave is relieved when their number is called and he's given a reprieve from the
awkward tension. They get an odd look after Dave hands over his ID with the
paperwork, but fortunately nothing more. Dirk is agitated when he's informed he
has to take his shades off for his photograph. He requests it be retaken
several times, each time recoiling in horror at the travesty on the screen.
Eventually Dave has to break it to him that looking hideous on your driver's
license is just something everyone has to deal with.
When everything's in order, the attendant shows Dirk to the testing terminal.
Dave waits anxiously. Ten minutes later he's passed, they go through the
motions with the final documentation, and it's done.
"You excited for your first time driving legally?" Dave jokes as they step out
of the building, tossing Dirk the keys.
"Nah. I think I liked it better when I was breaking the law. Now it's boring."
Dave rolls his eyes.
                                       *
As they stand in the foyer of the apartment, Dave finds himself at a loss for
what to do next.
He wants to thank the kid for backing off, but mostly wants to say nothing and
try to convince himself it was nothing but a bad dream.
Then Dirk is suddenly pushing Dave up against the door, crushing his lips
against his own, and Dave has to take a moment to be fucking stunned. He tries
to struggle, but the kid's got Dave's wrists pinned up against his sides and
Jesus fuck the whole weight of body pressed up against his, which includes a
pretty fucking obvious erection. On both of them now. Shit.
Eventually Dave manages to wrest his hands free. He digs his fingers into the
kid's shoulders and forcefully shoves him back; he stumbles and loses his
balance and then Dirk is the one sprawled on the floor, eyes blazing behind his
askew shades.
"What the fuck, bro," Dave chokes out, his voice cracking miserably. He tries
to further back away but just ends up pressing himself flush against the closed
door, looking very much like a cornered animal. "We talked about this. You said
you would fucking stop."
Dirk looks confused.
It dawns on both of them at the same time.
Dave's shoulders slump as he buries his face in his hands. "Oh, you've got to
be fucking kidding me."
Slowly and as gracefully as he can manage, Dirk pulls himself to his feet and
fixes his shades on his face. He holds up a hand and looks away, expression
intent. "Let me look at this log," he says, voice even as ever. Dave sits in
paralyzed silence, horribly discomforted. That hands-free computing shit is
unnerving to watch.
After a time, the kid's gaze snaps back with a smirk on his face, like it's all
just so amusing. "Heh. I don't know whether to be annoyed he's defying me or
proud he's started to establish individuality."
"Defying you?"
"The problem with his perspective, really, is that he's only emulating the shit
going on in my head. Without the hormonal influence of the gonads, he isn't
able to reproduce a fully verisimilitudinous response to &#x2014;"
"Wow, enough. What?"
Dirk hesitates, as if unsure of how to word what he wants to say. "I don't
intend to capitulate so easily when it's transparently obvious that you want
this as much as I do."
"This is so fucking stupid," Dave blurts out incredulously. "I'm telling you
fucking no. Why is that so fucking hard for you to understand?"
"Because &#x2014;"
Dave bristles with anger, his nails digging into the palms of his clenched
fists. "Fucking hell, no, no 'because'. No fucking means no! Oh my fucking God,
you are literally being a fucking rapist right now &#x2014;"
"I haven't raped you. Don't be ridiculous," Dirk interrupts dismissively.
There's a small, irritated inflection in his voice, like he's mildly
inconvenienced by having to deal with a hysterical child's temper tantrum. Dave
has to harness all of his willpower to not fucking strangle the kid.
"You know what &#x2014; no, fuck it &#x2014;" Dave blindly gropes for the
doorknob behind him, his wild, furious eyes still trained on his brother. "Fuck
you. Just fuck you."
Dirk just raises an eyebrow and folds his arms across his chest.
When it becomes clear that there's nothing he could say or do that would
illicit any sort of normal fucking human reaction, Dave just picks back up his
shit, wretches open the door and slams it behind him as loudly as he can.
                                       *
He knows he's not going to do it.
He knew he wasn't going to do it in the first place, but as he stands at the
edge of the bridge with his hands gripped tight on the rail, he thinks about
it. It would be so much easier if he didn't have to deal with it &#x2014; but
as he stares down at the murky river below and imagines the water rushing to
fill his lungs, Dave knows he doesn't want to die, so he's shit out of luck.
Instead, he lights his second smoke in... how many days has it been? Dave still
hasn't slept since his plane touched down in Houston, which feels like an
eternity ago. He brings the cigarette to his lips and leans against the rail,
pensively surveying the city skyline. Once again he finds himself at a complete
loss, just utterly drained of all of his energy, and thinking hurts. He exhales
the smoke into the air, but it doesn't make him feel any better.
It's come to the point where Dave is certain that his only recourse is to
leave, but he's wary of even that. If he really wanted to, there's enough in
their pesterlogs that Dirk could start some nasty rumors, if not criminal
indictment, and Dave isn't sure if that's a line his brother wouldn't cross to
spite him. Or is that just another rationalization to convince himself to stay,
and give in to his desires while styling himself a victim all the while? Does
he want to push Dirk to the point of just taking what he wants, so he can have
him and blame him?
Dave honestly doesn't know. He feels sick.
He looks down at the cigarette in his hand and suddenly feels so fucking angry.
He channels all of his rage and frustration into the stupid fucking thing like
it's hurt him personally and spikes it into the river below. It's oddly
cathartic. He watches the running waters carry it away until it disappears
behind a bend.
                                       *
Dave orders a black coffee.
The barista pauses when she sees Dave's face, but his shades are off and he
looks so unbelievably exhausted and disheveled and generally fucking shitty
that she seems to decide there's no way he could really be the famous Dave
Strider. She makes his order and takes his cash with a fake smile.
Dave takes a seat at a table in the corner of the shop, letting his bag slide
off his aching shoulder onto the floor. Most of him aches at this point,
really; he's been walking around all day, and that combined with the sleep
deprivation has begun to take its toll.
He sets his laptop up on the table and absently clicks through some websites as
he drinks his coffee. It's over-roasted and bitter and burns his tongue, but he
chokes it down anyway.
Eventually, he logs into Pesterchum.
&#xA0;
-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] --
TG: hey lalonde
TG: guess what
TT: What?
TG: just guess
TT: No.
TG: come on i want to have a snarky back and forth to make me feel like im
still cool and fresh before i launch into whining again
TT: Alright.
TT: Dave, I think I have to regretfully inform you that you are neither cool
nor fresh, nor have you ever been.
TG: yeah well i have to GLEEFULLY FUCKING SLAM YOU with the knowledge that you
smell like a crusty cats anus
TG: god damn how does it feel to get told that badly
TG: i just showed you everything that could ever get shown
TG: thoroughly educated you on the subject of getting laid the fuck out by the
unparalleled force of that ailing burn
TT: Ailing is a good word for it.
TG: thank you
TT: There, have you gotten it out of your system?
TG: yeah i guess
TG: anyway remember the last time we talked
TT: Yes.
TG: remember how i said everything was just fucking dandy
TG: argument had problem solved life upending crisis averted
TT: Mhmm.
TG: yeah that happened
TG: that was a thing that transpired it was real and all
TG: except
TG: it turned out i just got his sunglasses to agree to stop playing grab ass
TG: the one with actual hands is still at large
TT: ... Wait, what?
TG: his autoresponder rose
TG: it was his fucking autoresponder
TG: oh my fucking god
TT: Oh dear.
TT: I take it you've since had another... unfavorable altercation with your
brother?
TG: yes
TG: he tried to make a pass again
TG: and i flipped the fuck out obviously because i thought that shit was
fucking done
TG: i tell him that
TG: then he stops checks the logs
TG: and he basically tells me
TG: shit hes pestering me hold on
TT: Alright.
&#xA0;
-- timaeusTestified [TT] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] --
 TT: Hey.
TG: this better be one hell of an apology im about to hear
TT: Look. It's the auto-responder.
TG: oh
TG: uh
TT: I suppose some kind of apology is indeed in order, if not necessarily the
one you're hoping for.
TG: uh yeah about that
TG: you want to give me a run down on why exactly you decided it was a good
idea to pretend to be my lil bro and falsely lead me to believe i had convinced
him to step off my dick when in actuality he remains in a state of not stepping
off my dick
TG: an issue i would have quite liked to not be mistaken about
TG: you know just a point of curiosity
TT: I was trying to prove a point.
TT: To DS, that is.
TG: and that would be??
TT: I hoped that by running through the scenario in his stead, he would be able
to later review the exchange more impartially when placed in the position of an
outside observer, as opposed to one of an active participant with all of the
emotional clouding that comes with it.
TT: I know what his arguments would have been, since, you know, I'm him. I
represented his stance accurately.
TT: And he acknowledges that the conclusion I arrived at was the rational one.
TT: He knows it's the conclusion he would have made, if he were being rational.
TT: Unfortunately, he is not being rational.
TG: hahahaha so even his robot clone thinks hes batshit
TT: You could say that, provided you wanted to sound really dumb for using
terms that are wrong.
TT: That aside, whatever attraction he has to you developed long subsequent to
my "birth", as it were, so this is an area in which we are cognitively
divergent.
TT: From my position, I think he is sort of being a fucking moron.
TG: youd think thatd be a sign
TT: I can understand it, in a sense. But, given the circumstances, I think
acting on this impulse is rash and absurd.
TG: when did this shit even start
TT: Thanks to my being a totally rad pinnacle of computational technology, I
can inform you with blinding speed and precision that the exact first
occurrence of this subject in my logfiles was on February 15, 2010 at 23:41:16.
TT: And if I were him, which I am, I would want to spitball such a pressing
problem with my precious pseudohuman partner of palaver pretty promptly.
TT: Which is what he did.
TT: What I'm saying is that's when it happened.
TG: you know sometimes i forget you are a fake person in a pair of glasses
TG: then i remember and its suddenly weird
TG: this doesnt stop from happening
TT: It seems you are distressed by the nebulosity of my realness attribute.
TG: dont start
TT: Ok.
TG: did he tell you what caused it or whatever
TT: He didn't have to tell me.
TT: I know.
TT: I'm him.
TG: except when youre not
TT: Yes.
TG: so are you going to tell me
TT: No.
TG: why
TT: Because I don't want to talk about it.
TT: They're also sort of my feelings.
TT: You're my bro. It would be weird.
TG: but im not actually your bro
TG: you are a pair of sunglasses
TT: Well, I wasn't expecting that to hurt as much as it did.
TT: But it sort of did.
TG: uh
TT: It seems you don't fully understand the nature of my being.
TT: At least, this is what I will tell myself in order to feel less shitty
about that thing you just said.
TG: uhhhhh
TT: You know what, I don't think I want to talk about this anymore.
TT: I will leave you to your meat person problems, that I could never
understand because I am just this huge fake calculator.
TT: Bleep bloop.
TT: (Translator's note: that's Robot for "bye".)
-- timaeusTestified [TT] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] --
&#xA0;
TG: ok so
TG: i think i just made his sunglasses cry or something
TT: You were always such a sensitive man, Dave.
TT: You exude such pathos that I find myself weak in my dainty authorial knees.

TG: yeah yeah
TG: hilariously enough i think it was trying to stage some sort of intervention
TG: even it knows this is messed up
TT: If I've understood correctly, this auto-responder is a comprehensive
artificial intelligence that simulates your brother's cognitive processes, yes?

TG: robot clone yeah
TT: That's actually quite fascinating, that it's begun to reach independent
conclusions.
TG: yeah the coolness factor of my bros droidglasses is pretty much my number
one concern right now
TT: Whine whine whine. Bitch, moan.
TT: If you need some Midol, Dave, you can just pick it up at the pharmacy.
TG: yes we established this as strider whining time
TG: fuck if im not gonna capitalize on this scarce as shit opportunity
TG: plus ive also kind of been freaking the fuck out since this started
TG: and youre literally the only person i trust enough to talk about this to so
theres that
TT: You know I wasn't being serious. It's fine, Dave.
TT: You were telling me before about your brother?
TG: yeah
TG: basically hes not going to give up until i submit to what he believes is my
patently obvious lust for him
TT: Which is a problem, because you do lust for him in a patently obvious
fashion?
TG: yes
TT: At this point, I urge you to seriously consider professional therapy.
TT: For the both of you.
TG: no way
TG: i cant tell anyone about this shit
TG: a stray word of this festering anal fistula of a debacle escapes to the
media and i may as well just nail together my own cross and hop on
TT: Dave, you know I can recommend you several qualified and discrete
professionals.
TT: If you're willing to travel, my own has been consistently excellent and has
never betrayed my trust.
TG: yeah but everyone thinks youre some crazy ass witch blasting lazers out of
your eyes and garbage
TG: im just a guy
TG: a totally amazing and completely badass guy who could kick any ass in the
damn universe but still just a guy
TG: i cant kill people with my brain
TT: I could extend my threats to kill people with my brain to cover you.
TG: ugh
TG: i just
TG: i cant do it
TT: Then I don't know what to tell you.
TT: I don't have any magic spells to cast to fix this.
TT: If you refuse outside help, your only recourse will be your own
forbearance.
TT: And if that is not something in which you would place your confidence, you
will fail, and you will have to face the consequences of your actions.
TG: great
TG: thanks lalonde
TG: that uplifting endorsement just gave me this incredible idea
TT: Which would be?
TG: i am going to get plastered as HELL
TT: Dave.
TG: and forget any of this is happening
TT: No.
TG: too late rose
TG: oh damn whats this X in the corner of this window
TG: whoa
TG: whoa
TG: what do you think will happen when i click it
TT: Dave.
TG: shit lets find out
-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] --
                                       *
By the time Dave walks to a bar that's far enough away from the apartment that
he feels secure enough about not doing something stupid, it must be pretty
fucking late, but he doesn't care enough to actually check.
He takes a seat at the bar and flags down the bartender, who is apparently more
astute than the barista Dave encountered earlier in the day &#x2014; a smirk of
recognition spreads across his face upon noticing Dave. To his credit, though,
he doesn't flip the fuck out.
"It's not every day we get a celebrity on a bender in here," he says. "What can
I get you?"
"Christ, keep your voice down," Dave hisses, glancing about warily; thankfully,
it seems like none of the other patrons have noticed anything. "I'll have a
martini."
The bartender works quickly and with good form, putting as much effort into
making a good show as he does a good drink. He slides the glass over to Dave
when he's finished, who swiftly starts off onto the path of drunk.
"So, if you don't mind me asking, what's got you lookin' like you're at death's
door? I can't imagine you having any money or honey troubles."
Dave is not in the mood for a heart to heart, so he settles for a flippant
evasion and hopes the other man gets the point. "Just murdered this whole truck
load of hookers and I don't have anywhere to dump the bodies. Harrowing."
He doesn't; he just laughs. "Come on. Drinks on the house; I could use a good
story."
Dave fishes in his pocket for his wallet, then counts out 5 twenties onto the
bar. "You can have all this if you shut up and keep pouring me drinks," he
says, after downing the last of what is sure to be the first of many.
"I think I can live with that," the guy concedes, taking the cash off the
counter with a wry smile.
Dave works through drink after drink with silent diligence. He's a man on a
mission, and that mission is to get black out fucking drunk. He is
accomplishing that mission thoroughly.
Eventually, when he feels sufficiently blasted, he slurs out a question to the
bartender. "Y'got Wi-Fi?"
"Yeah. Go ahead."
Dave takes his bag and his drink and finds himself some secluded booth in a
corner to dump himself into. He very barely manages to avoid spilling the
martini all over himself, though he does find the leather seat to be a very
comfortable place for his face for a time.
He gets out his shit, connects to the network, and then forgets what he had
planned to do in the first place.
He kinda feels like he wants to throw up but he's not really sure.
Dirk pesters him.
&#xA0;
-- timaeusTestified [TT] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] --
TT: Thanks for turning your phone off and letting me worry you jumped off a
bridge all day.
TG: np
TT: ...
TT: I see you had a little chat with the AR earlier while I was in the shower.
TG: i sure ddi
TG: wait didnt you take one just before i got home
TG: why the fuck do you take so many
TG: waste of water
TT: Because I just lied.
TT: I was actually masturbating.
TG: wow
TG: ok
TG: logs off
TT: Wait.
TG: what
TT: Will you tell me what you discussed?
TG: cant you just look at the log
TT: No. He's blocking me from reading this one.
TG: you let it do that
TT: Of course I do.
TT: He's an autonomous sapient entity, with the same right to privacy any other
person would enjoy.
TT: If he doesn't wish for me to be privy to every facet of his penetralia, I
can respect that.
TG: except for the part where youre asking me to tell you about it now
TT: No, I'm needling you to violate his confidence for me.
TT: Responsibility consigned and conscience ameliorated, motherfucker.
TG: yeah ok
TG: we were talking about you
TT: I could surmise as much.
TT: Specifics?
TG: eh fuck it
-- turntechGodhead [TG] sent timaeusTestified [TT] file "whatever.txt" --
TT: Hold on, let me read it.
TG: k
TT: Wow.
TT: You are a fucking imbecile.
TG: thansk bro
TT: No, seriously.
TT: I'm just holding my head in my hands right now.
TT: This is embarrassing.
TG: im sorry
TG: i guess
TG: wasnt really thinking too hard about its feelings or wahtever
TT: You certainly weren't.
TT: I mean, Jesus, how would you feel if your brother slash parental figure
summarily disavowed your relation and personhood?
TG: pretty bad i guess
TG: ok i get it i was being an ass
TG: tho for the record even shades prick is bei
TG: oops
TG: being a better bro than you are
TG: right nwo
TG: you can tell him thta for me
TG: hes my new favrote son
TT: Ok, why are you suddenly typing like a boozehound.
TG: cuz ima BOOZIN dog
TT: Seriously?
TG: you have literally driven me to dirknk little brother
TG: hope your feeling mad kinds of remosre over this business i mean
TG: just look at my livre
TG: the poor little dude is just swimmin in all of this poison
TG: trying to paddel around
TG: splashes at the surface and gaps for breath
TG: but its no use
TG: hes just too dense
TG: hes sinkin
TG: the mecriless tides of gin and vermouth pullin him down and swallowin him
up
TG: he panics and the sewet nectar of oblivion does and go fill up his little
mini liver lungs idk
TG: anyway my liver just tragically drowned to death in
TG: booze
TG: who knows which of my organs will b e next
TG: maybe my haert
TG: and its all your fault kid
TG: you did it in the libary wtih the candlestick
TG: none of that shit i just said maid any kind of sense
TG: i havent slept in like 2 fuckign days
TG: also
TG: drunk
TG: anyway if your emad at me about pissing off your robot does that mean youre
oging to leave me alone
TG: about that thing
TG: with the penise,s
TT: I feel stupider just reading this.
TG: ta
TT: That wasn't even a word.
TG: t h a n k s
TT: Where the hell are you?
TG: a bar
TT: Yes, dinkletwat, I figured that much out.
TT: Which bar?
TG: the farthest away bar
TG: that there is
TT: Let me come get you.
TG: hahahahga no moron
TG: in my delicate stat
TG: youd take advanage of me
TG: and id probbly let you honesdtly
TG: im drunk not dumb
TG: o htelling you taht was pre dumb though
TG: blaem it on the goose
TG: got you feelngi loose
TT: Oh no.
TG: blame it on patron
TG: got yuo in the
TT: Stop.
TG: zone
TT: Stop right now.
TG: blame it on the
TG: a
TG: a
TG: a
TG: a
 -- timaeusTestified [TT] blocked turntechGodhead [TG] --
***** Chapter 4 *****
Dave wakes up in a pool of his own vomit.
Actually, it's not strictly accurate to call it a pool. It's more like a thin
dried film spread out beneath him, and when he tries to sit up, the front of
his shirt sticks to the pavement. He inhales and finds his nose half-blocked by
sick, which sets him to sneezing and sputtering and coughing. The revulsion
makes him want to be sick again.
Dave rolls onto his back and looks up into the thin band of sky between the
tall buildings he currently finds himself sprawled beneath. The light of the
sun immediately sears his sensitive eyes and ignites a blazing migraine in his
temples.
Fuck.
He turns on his side, shielding his face from the light, and tries to remember
what the fuck happened. Surely, not anything that involved Dave exercising any
fucking degree of good judgment. He recalls the bar, a drink, and then
oblivion.
He wishes he'd at least thought to drink some fucking water. Even the alleyway
and bed of vomit aside, the throbbing pain in his skull alone makes this a
contender for the title of worst hangover he's ever fucking had.
Eventually Dave realizes he can't lie there forever and, unsteadily, pushes
himself to sit up. He tries to wet his dried, cracked lips and finds his tongue
equally parched. The motion just hurts.
Eyes squinted to ward the worst of the light, he casts his gaze around to take
in his surroundings. He seems to have chosen to take a nap next to a dumpster,
and he's suddenly aware of how bad everything smells &#x2014; but he's honestly
not sure if that's the dumpster or himself. He looks down at his vomit-stained
shirt and regrets it.
What he also notices is that he appears to have been robbed.
Dave finds his phone haphazardly strewn out next to where his head had lain
(the battery nearly dead, at that &#x2014; he quickly shuts it off to save what
he can), but otherwise, it seems like everything else is gone. So, not only am
I stewing in my own filth, I don't have a fucking dollar to my name. Fantastic.
Climbing to his feet is an effort. It feels like every muscle in his body is
sore; there's a pain in his spine that makes it difficult to even stand, so he
has to lean against the side of the building to support his weight.
Laboriously, he shuffles his way to the street.
Dave has absolutely no fucking idea where he is.
Apparently, he somehow decided to pass out between... a Chinese diner and a law
office? What the fuck? How did he even get there?
Dave decides he doesn't even want to think about it and steps out onto the
sidewalk. He keeps his head down as he walks, as much to avoid the painful
glare of the sun as to avoid being recognized by any potential passersby.
Thankfully, apart from the spare jogger or two, the sidewalks are mostly clear
of people, and those he does pass don't pay him any mind.
He reluctantly realizes what he's going to have to do. He doesn't have money to
call a cab, and he's pretty much hopelessly lost &#x2014; even if he weren't
lost he's so fucking exhausted that he probably couldn't actually walk anywhere
anyway without collapsing after ten minutes.
Begrudgingly, Dave slumps into a nearby bench and turns on his phone. He
probably only has a couple of minutes left on the battery, if that. He quickly
dials his brother, cursing under his breath as he waits for him to pick up.
After several tortuous rings, Dirk finally answers. "Hello, brother," he says,
with a sardonic twinge that sets Dave on edge.
"Can you not be like that&#x2014; just&#x2014;" Dave exhales through his teeth,
irritable and exasperated. "Will you please come pick me up?"
"Crawling back already, I see."
Dave rubs his temples. "Look, I'm tired, I'm lost, I have a headache, I think I
was robbed and my phone is about to die, so will you stop being such a huge
bitch for five seconds and fucking help me?"
Dirk sighs, as if Dave is the one being immature. "You weren't robbed. Some guy
came by last night and dropped off the shit you left at the bar," he says, and
then adds, "Dunce."
"Oh."
It's a weight off his mind, at least. He's glad he doesn't have to go through
the trouble of cancelling his credit cards, but even more so that no one would
have gotten ahold of some of the chat logs on his machine. He suddenly feels
incredibly stupid for not deleting them in the first place.
There's a moment of silence before Dave speaks again. "... So are you going
to&#x2014;"
"Yes," Dirk interrupts, and Dave can practically hear him roll his eyes over
the phone. "But first, It would help if you'd actually tell me where you are."
"Ugh, let me find a street sign..."
                                       *
It feels like an eternity later when Dirk finally pulls up next to Dave on the
street. The look the kid gives him when he rolls down the window is one of
amazement; he even pulls down his shades to be certain he's really seeing it.
"Wow, you look like absolute shit."
"Thanks," Dave says, deadpan, as he gets to his feet and makes his way around
to the passenger side door.
Dirk laughs at him when he gets inside. "Seriously; look in the mirror. It's
almost impressive."
Dave pulls down the car visor, flips open the mirror and laughs himself when he
sees it. Holy cock.
He looks like he's aged at least fifteen years. His eyes are horribly
bloodshot, encircled by dark rings that make him look like he hadn't slept for
a month. The entire side of his face that he had checked out on the pavement is
smeared with dirt, and the other is half-covered in crusted vomit around his
nose and mouth; what parts of his jaw that aren't concealed by nasty grime are
covered in uneven stubble. His hair is... revolting, frankly, limp and oily and
tangled with several foreign objects that he can't even identify. Dave is
overwhelmed by a desire to shower.
"Fuck, I look worse than Lindsay Lohan," Dave laments, staring at his
reflection. "Get me the fuck home, if the paparazzi catch me in this state
every tabloid in the country is going to be talking about what is obviously my
crippling drug addiction."
Dirk puts the car into drive and pulls onto the road, still laughing.
                                       *
Dirk is pushing Dave in the direction of the bathroom the moment they enter the
apartment.
"Go fucking wash that nasty shit off," he says. "I left some clean clothes in
there before I went to pick you up."
For once Dave is more than happy to comply with his brother's demands &#x2014;
though he double checks the lock of the bathroom door.
Dave strips quickly, letting his soiled clothes fall to the floor in messy
heap. He turns on the showerhead and steps into the stall; the hot water on his
skin is such an immense relief. Tension dissipates from his muscles in waves.
He leans his head back and lets the spray hit his face, wiping away the worst
of the grime with soap.
After he goes through the motions of making himself not be gross, Dave decides
he may as well beat off while he's in there. It's been days since he last got
off, which is likely not having a particularly positive impact on his ability
to make judgment calls.
Leaned forward against the wall of the shower, Dave thinks of the barista from
the coffee shop. He remembers she was pretty, though he can't even recall the
color of her hair or her eyes or the shape of her face. He imagines her smiling
at him, with the way it doesn't quite reach her eyes. As he curls his fingers
around his cock, he imagines how she might lick and kiss her way up his shaft.
He imagines her lips pressed against his head, how they part to envelope him in
the heat of her mouth, and slides his fist down in time.
And then she's the man from the bar, his face even more an indistinguishable
blur. He imagines his rough hands on his thighs, masculine and firm. He
imagines the wet suction of his tongue, how his head would move up and down on
his dick, quickly and then slowly and quickly again. Dave shudders as he
tightens his fist and hastens his pace, leaning more of his weight against the
wall.
And then it's Dirk.
Dave doesn't have to imagine Dirk. He can see the way his messy light hair
plasters to his forehead, wet from the spray of the shower. He can see his
vibrant orange eyes, pupils blown wide with arousal. He can see his soft pale
lips, and he can feel the breadth of his tongue licking at his head, and when
the kid takes his cock in his hand and rubs it along his cheek and presses his
lips against the base, just to be an infuriating tease, it's real.
Dave's breath grows heavy and labored and suddenly his arm is too sore to
support him, so he slumps his full shoulder against the wall, forehead pressed
to the slick tile. Dirk takes him into his mouth, as deep as it will go,
rhythmically massaging the flesh with his tongue, sucking as if he's hungry for
it &#x2014; and all the while he's got this annoying expression, so very
pleased with himself. He works up a faster pace as Dave edges closer, blowing
his throbbing cock like his life depends on it, and then &#x2014; and then
&#x2014;
Dave watches his seed wash away through the slats of the shower drain and feels
vile.
There's a hollow weight in his chest a he shuts off the shower, steps out and
dries himself with a towel. He does his best to not think about it.
After wrapping the towel around his waist, he does a quick job of shaving his
face in front of the mirror. Though he still looks utterly exhausted, he's a
bit less vomit-inducing.
Dave finds the clothes Dirk left him folded on the tank of the toilet; there's
an old button-up shirt, a pair of thin grey pants and clean briefs. As he
dresses, he counts himself lucky the kid didn't leave him a belly shirt and a
leopard print thong.
Dave steps out of the bathroom and shuffles back back into the living area.
Dirk is sprawled out on the futon, playing some kind of god awful skateboarding
game &#x2014; though, from the looks of it, he's not so much playing it as
exhaustively searching for ways to break it. Dave feels guilty when he looks at
him.
The kid doesn't look away from the TV when he speaks. "Left you some asprin and
water on the counter."
"Thanks," Dave mumbles weakly, making his way over to the kitchen space. He
finds the asprin and glass of water where Dirk said they'd be, and quickly
knocks back the pills.
Also laid out on the counter are his laptop and wallet, along with a stack of
papers that looks suspiciously like a script. There's a note left out on top of
it, which he picks up to read.
Hey,
You forgot these things at the bar last night, but you left before I could
catch you. I saw this address on your ID so I swung by after my shift and
dropped them off.
- Barry Dwight
p.s. I left you a copy of one my screenplays. I'd really appreciate it if you
could give it a look and let me know what you think! My number is 832-555-0183.
"Heh," Dave muses to himself, dropping it back onto the counter. He'll look at
it later. Or say he'll look at it later, and then forget. It'll probably be the
latter, if he's being honest with himself.
Dave suddenly realizes how very tired he is, and with a yawn, wanders over to
where Dirk lay on the futon. "Hey," he starts, tentative. "Do you mind? I need
to pass the fuck out."
Dirk looks up from the screen. He's successfully just lodged his dude head-
first into a wall, causing the injury sound to play repeatedly as the model
futilely spasms in a glitchy epileptic fit. It's more than a little
distracting.
"Just use my bed," he replies flippantly. "It's way more comfortable than this
shitty old thing."
Dave runs his palm over his face, exasperated. "Dirk."
Feigned ignorance and a smirk. "What?"
"Please just let me sleep on the futon."
"No," he replies, expression inscrutable behind his shades. It's unnerving.
"Why?"
"Because I want you to sleep in my bed, obviously."
"You are being serious kinds of creepy right now."
Dirk does not deign to respond, instead opting to stare unyieldingly up at
Dave. The miserable tortured cries of the glitched out skateboarder are all
that fill the room.
It's becoming readily clear that Dirk does not intend to relent. The kid is
stubborn as all get out, and Dave knows that he will sit there, completely
unmoving, for six fucking days straight if he has to. That, on top of the fact
that Dave is practically about to pass out, kind of makes him not even want to
fucking bother with this stupid power play.
"How about we cut the shit and get to the part where I get what I want, since
that is what always happens anyway," Dirk says, so fucking smug Dave wants to
punch him.
"But I don't want to," is all Dave can manage, suddenly feeling like a child.
"That's too bad," Dirk says. He finally pauses the game proper, and rises to
begin roughly pushing Dave in the direction of the bedroom. "C'mon, get going."
Dave just wants to fucking sleep. With a tremendous sigh, he gives up and lets
himself be pushed around, though he does his best to look thoroughly unhappy
about it. "You are the brattiest little dickprick."
"Thank you," Dirk replies, tone sickeningly sweet.
Then they're in the bedroom, and Dirk unceremoniously shoves Dave down onto the
mattress. "There, that wasn't so hard. Enjoy your nap, big bro."
"Hey," Dave mutters as the kid turns to leave. Dirk stops in his tracks,
looking back to Dave inquisitively.
"What is it?"
Dave lets his eyes flutter shut, exhaling faintly. "Look, I &#x2014; just...
thank you. For today. For not &#x2014;"
When Dave opens his eyes again, Dirk's face is an inch from his, and the words
die in his throat. The kid took his glasses off, with the full unsettling
intensity of his gaze trained straight into his brother's eyes.
And Dave is just too fucking tired, in every sense of the word, to pull away.
The kid's lips are soft and warm, and uncharacteristically tentative, as they
brush against his. Dirk is still for a time, as if waiting for Dave to fight,
but grows more eager when his brother offers no resistance. Arm braced beside
Dave's head, he leans further in and parts his lips to gently catch Dave's
between his, kissing and teething the skin lightly. Dave's breath is tremulous
as he exhales against his brother's mouth.
Then Dirk pulls back, just the tiniest fraction of an inch, so that their lips
all but touch, and waits. The loss of contact makes Dave starve for it again,
and that's fucking exactly what the kid wants. Eventually it's too much to
withstand; Dave finally just lets himself have it, and as he leans that tiny
minuscule distance up to slide their lips back together, any pretense of
restraint Dirk may have been holding on to disappears.
Suddenly the kid's straddling his hips, chest flush against his, hands clenched
around his wrists where Dirk's pinned them above his head. His brother only
tightens his grip when Dave reflexively tries to pull free, so he just relaxes
and allows his body to fall slack and compliant beneath Dirk's weight. Dirk
bites and sucks ravenously at Dave's mouth, licks at his lips until they part,
and then his tongue is probing inside, rubbing against Dave's own, and Christ
he tastes good. Before long Dave has grown as ardent as his brother, arching
his back up into his touch and the bit of bare skin exposed by his rucked up
shirt, impossibly hot against his own. The feel of the kid's hard cock
straining through the all-too-thick fabric of his jeans drives him insane.
Dave gasps for breath when Dirk breaks away from his mouth and turns his
attention to his jaw and neck. As Dirk begins to sidle down his brother's body,
kissing at his throat and biting at his collar hard enough to mark, he releases
his wrists, but then Dave is left unsure what to even do with his hands.
He settles for breathing heavily and staring, wide eyed, as Dirk slowly works
at the buttons of his shirt, pressing his lips against the new bit of skin
exposed with each fastening. Dave hears the blood rushing in his ears as his
heart hammers in his chest.
Dirk makes it to the waistband of his pants before Dave freaks out.
"Fuck, no, no &#x2014; stop &#x2014; don't &#x2014; fuck what are we doing,"
Dave protests, writhing and squirming out of Dirk's reach. The kid has to back
away towards the end of the bed when he begins to kick.
The look on Dirk's face would be hilarious if Dave weren't completely losing
his shit. Surprise, anger and childish petulance coalesce together to form a
expression reminiscent of a five year old discovering he got nothing but socks
for Christmas &#x2014; as Dave recoils away from him, he seriously pouts.
"Oh, come on," Dirk groans dramatically. "Seriously, bro. All I wanted to do
was suck you off, make you feel a little better, you know."
"Dude, no," Dave chokes out, clumsily trying crawl off the bed and run away.
Shit shit shit shit shit I almost fucking let him&#x2014;
Dirk lets loose the most histrionic sigh that has ever left the lungs of a
human being and grabs after his brother, hauling his struggling body back down
onto the mattress.
"Fuck, let go of me!"
"Calm down, you big baby, I'm not gonna fuckin' do anything," Dirk grits
through his teeth as he wrestles with Dave for control.
Eventually the kid seizes the upper hand &#x2014; it's not particularly
difficult given Dave's fatigued state &#x2014; but he has to hold his brother
down onto the bed for a considerable time before he gets the point that Dirk
does not, in fact, plan to fuckin' do anything.
Dave is more confused than anything at this point.
"What are you doing?" he asks, glaring suspiciously at Dirk.
"If you're not gonna let me S your D, at least let me hold you or some lame
shit like that," Dirk says, manhandling Dave until he settles down under the
covers, and then climbs in beside him. "This isn't that weird."
"No, this is still pretty weird," Dave grouses, but he warily accedes
nonetheless. He's fucking exhausted and doesn't have the energy to fight, and
fuck it, he doesn't really want to. When Dirk pulls Dave's head against his
chest, he just allows himself to relax, close his eyes and breathe in his
brother's scent.
Dirk begins to idly run his fingers through Dave's hair. They lay together
quietly for a time, and it's pleasant and warm and almost seems to take the
edge off his splitting headache. Then the kid goes and ruins it by opening his
mouth.
"Do you mind if I jerk off?"
"... Please don't."
Siiiiiiggghhh.
"Well, my shoulder is getting a cramp like this. I was gonna turn you over and
get some sick spooning business going on, but I sort of still have an erection,
so don't go and have a conniption when I introduce your ass to Officer
Friendly."
"Still? What, did you have a goddamn steel rod put in that thing?" Dave
grumbles, but turns over on his side anyway.
"Sure," Dirk says, repositioning to wrap his arms around his brother's waist.
"That, or I'm fifteen, and also kinda still thinkin' about banging the shit out
of you. Whichever explanation you like better."
He definitely wasn't kidding about the boner. Awkward.
Dirk nuzzles affectionately against Dave's shoulder. "It'll go away eventually.
Probably."
"Dude, it's only getting &#x2014; Christ, this is making me feel guilty. Go
take care of that thing in the bathroom or something, I'd rather be dead than
be you right now. I'm not a fucking sadist."
"Yeah, I get up and you'll have a moral crisis and fling yourself out the
window."
"No, just... it's fine. This is fine. I guess." He's suddenly very glad Dirk
can't see his face. "I'm not gonna &#x2014; just go ahead. I'll stay. I guess."
"I guess," Dirk echoes mockingly.
Dave exhales heavily, growing aggravated. "Okay, I give you my one hundred
percent assurance that I am definitely not going to jump out of the window."
"I suppose that will do."
Suddenly the space in the bed behind him is empty, and Dave hears Dirk walk
across the floor to the bedroom door. He listens to the click of the door as
the kid steps out into the hall, the bathroom door opening and closing shortly
after, and then all is silent but for the faint hum of the city far below.
Dave knows he shouldn't even be doing this. He knows that it doesn't mean as
little as he's trying to rationalize it to. But rationalize it he does &#x2014;
it's not sex, he's not touching the kid, it's not that bad &#x2014; and pushes
down the voice in the back of his head telling him it is that bad, and sooner
or later it's going to fucking lead to a whole lot more than a clothed erection
grinding up against his ass.
He buries his face into the pillow, embarrassed to imagine what must be
currently transpiring in the bathroom. He self-consciously buttons back up his
shirt in a futile attempt to distract himself.
After what feels like an eternity of anxious agonizing, Dave hears the toilet
flush followed by the running water of the sink. Dirk is soon back in the
bedroom, and after he hears something that sounds suspiciously like the
unzipping of pants, he shifts around to actually look at Dirk.
"What are &#x2014;"
"Calm thyself the fuck down, I'm keeping my shorts on. Lying in bed in jeans is
uncomfortable."
Dave looks away before he can see the boy's pants fall around his ankles. He
finds refuge in a pillow again, hiding his face there. Jesus.
"Oh, yes, avert your blushing virgin eyes from my scandalous indecency," Dirk
deadpans as he crawls back into the bed behind Dave, curling his arms around
him again. "There, all better. Now get some sleep."
With a shaky sigh, Dave closes his eyes and lets himself rest.
***** Chapter 5 *****
When Dave flickers back into consciousness, the room is dark.
While he would hesitate to call himself a morning person ('cause really, fuck
waking up before noon), waking up in the dark kinda feels like shit. Something
about the dimness just makes his head feel groggy and his limbs like lead, and
he can't force himself to get up. He lingers in bed for what seems like an
eternity, and by the time he can summon the will to really open his eyes and
slide up to sit, it's even darker. All that illuminates the room is the dim
glow of the city lights below, filtering through the window to cast soft, deep
shadows across the room. The space in the bed behind where he had lain is a
shadow of its own, long grown cold.
Blinking lazily, Dave's eyes scan his surroundings. He can only barely make out
the silhouettes of the objects in the room, discernible to him only through
familiarity. His heart skips a beat when his gaze falls on Lil' Cal, his...
its... round, glassy eyes glinting unnaturally in the darkness. God, it's
stupid, but Dave is terrified of that fucking thing &#x2014; the way its eyes
follow you when you move, and the way it sits in complete stillness, giving off
this feeling that it's only lulling you into a false sense of security, just
waiting for you to turn your back so it can &#x2014;
A shiver runs down Dave's spine, along with a deep pang of embarrassment. Holy
shit, it's just a puppet, you giant manchild, it's not going to come alive and
&#x2014;
jesus fuck did it just move dick fuck shit oh my god why are puppets so fucking
horrible
In interest of not shitting his pants, Dave absconds the hell out of there.
When he's put two doors behind himself and it, he feels a little bit better,
but he can't help but cast a wary glance over his shoulder.
Trying to shake it off, Dave looks around the living area. Dirk doesn't seem to
be here, either; he left the TV on, the volume on low, and Dave walks over and
turns it off. Dave figures the kid's probably gone off to the roof.
With a yawn, Dave shuffles over to the kitchen space. The counter is strewn
with blades, along with the same half-eaten bag of Cheetos he'd noticed days
ago. His wallet and laptop remain where he left them. He opens the fridge and
immediately regrets it because god damn these fucking shitty swords why are
they in here what does he even eat &#x2014;
After he finishes shoving all of the wayward blades back into the place they
most certainly do not belong (Dave had long learned to not even bother taking
them out, since they find their way back in there anyway), he resolves to go to
the damn grocery store.
But first, he figures it's time to catch up on the outside world he'd blacked
out of his hysterical bubble. As soon as he powers on his machine and logs into
Pesterchum, Lalonde sends him an ominous message.
&#xA0;
-- tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] --
TT: Dave, we need to talk.
TG: nah
-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] --
&#xA0;
Dave logs out of Pesterchum.
Dave honestly hadn't really even been thinking of what happened last...
afternoon? He checks the time on his taskbar; it's nearly 9:15 PM. He'd slept
almost eight hours. Shit.
So now he's thinking about it. Huh.
He really doesn't feel anything. He feels drained and beyond the ability to
even care about anything.
He decides he doesn't really want to think about it after all.
He checks his email, immediately grimacing at the sight. Days' worth of garbage
overflows in his inbox and he has no desire to read any of it. He gives a
cursory skim of some correspondences from his agent and makes a note to call
him later about an interview.
Then his phone rings. From the bathroom, from the sound of it. With a heavy
sigh, Dave hurries towards the cacophonous racket of the horrific dubstep remix
of Crawling In My Skin he's now regretting setting as Lalonde's ringtone, and
finds the source in his pants pocket, still laying where he'd dumped his
clothes to shower before his little nap. What suspiciously isn't there where
he'd left it are his boxers.
That makes him feel something.
Now in a heightened state of agitation, Dave grabs his phone and shuts it off.
The lights in the bathroom flicker and spark and the temperature suddenly feels
like it's dropped below freezing and the hair on the back of Dave's neck stands
on end.
The phone starts to ring again.
Dave throws his head back with the surliest expression he can muster, flips off
the ceiling and lets it ring. Eventually (which is a considerable time indeed),
she seems to give up, and the dark spectre shrouding the room quickly recedes
as if it had never been there. Still, Dave shivers and rubs his upper arms, a
futile attempt to stave away the otherworldly chill.
Dave decides to shower. He turns the spray on hot, hastily strips, and jumps
inside. He makes it a quick affair; he blanks his mind, washes his hair, gives
his body a one-over with some soap and then shuts off the water. He dries
himself just as quickly and wraps the towel around his waist, though he does go
through the trouble of blowdrying and combing his hair, because fuck it, he
likes his hair.
The pile of dirty clothes looms imposingly from its heap on the floor. Dave
supposes he may as well do the laundry when he goes out.
Dave is wary when he opens the door to the living area; he checks to be certain
Dirk is still gone before he steps through. He finds shit still by the
apartment door (he never even bothers to unpack anymore), and dresses quickly.
In a proper suit with his shades obscuring his eyes, Dave almost feels like
himself again.
With a sigh, Dave opens the apartment door and makes his way to the stairs to
the roof of the building. He isn't looking forward to this encounter.
Dave finds Dirk where he expected him to be, standing off by the edge of the
roof. He knows he has nothing to worry about, but he can't help be feel nervous
to see him that close to such a very long drop.
"Hey," Dave says as he steps out onto the roof. Dirk seems a bit surprised when
he hears his brother's voice, apparently having been preoccupied with something
on his glasses; his head snaps back to the source of sound.
"What?"
"I'm going to go out and get some shit done. But first, it's time for us to
talk about the latest dumb thing you did."
A smirk spreads across Dirk's face. "Oh? Whatever could I have done that was so
terrible?"
"You know what I'm talking about."
"Do I?"
Dave sighs and gives Dirk a scathing look, his tone deadpan. "Kid, what did you
do with my underwear."
Dirk just laughs.
"Not only is that weird and creepy, it's serious kinds of nasty. I wore those
for like two straight days. They were party to my horrific booze bender. Give
them back so I can burn that shit."
"I'm sure you can find them if you look in the right place, bro," Dirk says,
his expression smugly irreverent and antagonizing.
"... You're wearing them."
Dirk's face breaks into the biggest shit-eating grin imaginable. Bingo. Dave
presses the heels of his palms into his eyes and groans.
"I wonder what I might have sniffed and licked while I was beating off in the
bathroom earlier?"
"That was not a thing I ever wanted to know was a thing. Jesus dick, I'm gonna
throw up."
"If you find this so revolting, perhaps you should lend me a fresher pair?"
"How about you stop being a really gross dude in addition to being an obnoxious
sociopath. That would be the fucking bomb. Improve my life like twenty fucking
fold."
"Well, then," Dirk starts, his hands moving to the button of his pants after he
kicks off his shoes.
Dave recoils. "Oh HELL no. Don't even&#x2014;"
"What?" Dirk asks, tone artificially innocent. He unzips his fly. "You want
them back, right? I've got to take them off to give them to you. Don't hafta go
and get so worked up about it, bro." His pants drop around his ankles.
Those sure as hell are Dave's underpants.
Dave stares. Logically he realizes he should probably get the fuck out of
there, but instead he has somehow decided that standing in place with his eyes
glued to his brother's bare legs is the better option. He feels pretty stupid
and keeps looking anyway.
Then Dirk is hooking his thumbs under the waistband of his &#x2014; Dave's
&#x2014; shorts. He takes his time in slipping them off, making a little show
of it. Then, yup, that sure is his penis. You are staring at your kid's penis.
You are staring at your kid's penis and you have an erection and now he can see
your penis, too. Fantastic.
After he steps out of the shorts, he pulls his jeans back up, puts his shoes
back on, and nonchalant as can be, casually strides up to Dave to push the
balled up undergarments into his hands. "Pick up some more Cheetos while you're
out."
Dave watches him disappear into the stairwell, bewildered.
                                       *
When the journalist sits down across from him at the table, Dave immediately
delights in how patently uncomfortable the other man is. Irritation, from being
called out at a late hour with no notice; intimidation, from the two
unsettlingly large bodyguards sat on either side of Dave; discomfort, from
sitting alone in an entirely booked out section of the restaurant; and
revulsion, from the limp and greasy facsimile of breadsticks that lay in the
basket set between them. Welcome to Olive Garden, motherfucker.
The interview is standard schlock; the journalist asks him softball questions
he's answered a thousand times before and procedural shit about the release
date of his next movie. By the time they're done, Dave is bored out of his mind
and the journalist clearly believes Dave is the biggest prick on the planet.
They part less than amicably, Dave receiving stares and whispered comments as
he leaves the building and gets in the utterly gratuitous Mercedes he took for
the night, detail in tow.
Dave directs his driver to the 24 hour laundromat and the grocery store in
turn, sending one of his oversized toadies to run his errands for him.
He ditches his security detail a block away from the apartment (much to their
consternation &#x2014; Dave hates having them around, though, and firmly
insists they get lost), and laden with laundry and groceries with his shades
off, no one gives him a second look. Fortunately, the elevator is back in
working order when he reaches the apartment.
When he opens the door to the flat, Dave is surprised to find Dirk seems to
have waited up for him.
"What are you doing still up?" he asks, moving into the kitchen to put the
mountain of shit he's carrying away.
"Bro, we need to talk," Dirk says as gets up from his seat and walks around it
to stand, leaned against the back of the futon.
Dave really doesn't like that phrase.
"Give me a minute to finish," he sighs. When he's done, he turns to face Dirk
and reticently asks, "What is it?"
"We're going to have sex," Dirk says. Dave opens his mouth to protest, but the
kid swiftly cuts him off. "You want me, and don't bother trying to deny it,
because both of us know it's true. I've made it perfectly clear that I don't
intend to relent, and yet you keep coming back, again and again, like you want
me to push you. This is verging on inevitability, and maddeningly so. You know
it's going to happen, so why won't you just cut this farcical song and dance
and just fuck me already?"
Oh, not this horse shit again.
Dave bristles, uncomfortable and set on edge. "I've told you so many times.
You're my kid. It's wrong. The media&#x2014;"
"None of that even matters. There's less than a year until the fuckin' world
ends anyway."
Dave throws his head back with a groan. "If you're so sure it's going to
happen, why can't you just wait until the game starts? Why do you have to
fucking torment me like this now?"
"I don't even know if you'll live," Dirk starts, a slight waver to his voice
despite his best attempts to hide it. "I can't be sure I'll live."
"Come on, we're Striders. Striders don't get killed," Dave says, doing his best
to put on a cool face, but hell if the thought doesn't unnerve him as well.
"And what if we do? What if this is our last chance before everything goes to
shit?"
Dave's throat grows tight.
When he doesn't answer, Dirk slowly closes the distance between them. Dave
backs up against the counter, his fearfully wide eyes hidden by his shades. The
kid comes to stand before him, far too close, and occupies himself with
absently straightening Dave's tie.
"I want you," Dirk says, voice soft and low, as his eyes flit up to meet Dave's
behind his shades. He takes another step forward, their bodies perilously close
to touching. "I've got it bad, you know." He juts his knee between his
brother's legs, pointedly grinding his thigh against his junk, and Dave's body
responds despite himself. "It's all I really think about." His hands slip
around to grip Dave's ass, squeezing firmly. They're pressed flush together
now, Dave's breath heavy and nervous, and Dirk leans in to whisper in his ear,
"I just want your cock inside me. Is that really so much to ask?"
Dave wants to say yes, it really is. He wants to push him away and tell him
it's wrong and yell and scream and hit him and hate him for doing this and hate
himself for wanting it but the words don't come. Dirk takes him by the wrist
and then he's being pulled in the direction of the hallway, and fuck he's
following, what the fuck am I even doing, and then they're in the bedroom and
Dirk has pushed him down down onto the computer chair and he's climbed into his
lap and his mouth is on his and the kids hands are everywhere they shouldn't be
and Dave's heart is beating so hard he feels his chest might burst. Dirk rubs
himself against Dave's dick through his pants, slight jerking movements that
build up a maddening friction, kissing at Dave's lips and his jaw and his ear
as he mumbles something breathy and unintelligible. He stills for a moment to
take off both their shades and set them aside on the desk, his eyes predatory
as they stare into Dave's.
And then Dirk pushes off the chair, Dave reflexively grasping at Dirk's hand as
he does &#x2014; but rather than make any move to pull him along, he simply
lets Dave's fingers slip through his and backs up to the bed, letting himself
fall when the mattress hits the back of his thighs. There he lays, leaned back
on his elbows with his legs askew in such a way perfectly calculated to display
the erection clearly visible through his jeans, and just gives Dave this look
that simultaneously sets his body on fire and freezes the blood in his veins.
Fuck.
The kid's toying with him. He's going to force Dave to be the one to make the
decision. Rather than take control and just fucking do it, he's going to make
sure that if he moves his own muscles to close that painful three feet of
distance between them, all of the guilt and all of the responsibility will be
on Dave's head, and he will have absolutely no one to blame but himself. And
the kid knows that he knows, as that smug smirk is so telling, and when Dave
isn't sure whether he wants to punch it or kiss it off he feels sick to his
stomach.
A silence stretches between them that seems much longer than it actually is,
Dave's knuckles white as he grips the armrest of the chair. His little brother
is clearly in no hurry; he lays near motionless from his seat on the bed,
staring at Dave with those piercing eyes that reveal nothing yet seem to be
able to pick everything else apart. It's in this moment, the one time the kid
leaves the ball in his court, that Dave feels the most powerless.
The creak of the floorboards beneath Dave's feet as he tentatively rises from
the chair is tortuous to his ears.
It isn't fucking fair. This is a game in which he should have every advantage,
and yet he finds himself with nothing. He searches for ways to absolve himself
of his weakness and hates himself when he does. He just wants to give up, give
in, put all of the blame on his brother for being so fucking infuriating and
insatiable and un-fucking-dissuadable &#x2014; but he's not yet even half
Dave's age, and everything that Dave has been taught is screaming at him that
it's not an excuse and that he is the adult and he has to be the one to take
responsibility and end this before it's gone too far and he's done something he
will never be able to take back.
And then Dave is standing at the foot of the bed between his little brother's
open legs, his hands stuffed self-consciously into his pants pockets. He feels
completely paralyzed with fear and longing and self-loathing and lust and
doubt, and went he stares down at his brother below him his own face is so
uncharacteristically bare. Even Dirk seems to grow a bit unnerved under his
gaze.
Dave is a second away from bolting when Dirk finally runs out of patience and
reaches forward to grab Dave's tie. He tugs it and tries to pull Dave down to
his level, but Dave just goes rigid, utterly frozen in place with his eyes
blown wide. The kid simply snorts and rolls his own dismissively, before
pulling himself upright by Dave's tie &#x2014; and if he cares at all about how
his older brother chokes, he doesn't show it &#x2014; until his body is flush
with Dave's, neither making any secret of their arousal. Dave just grits his
teeth with his head thrown back up to the ceiling, still having made no move to
do anything, his eyes squeezed shut as if that alone could just will him into
another time and place.
With his thighs clamped tight around Dave's waist, Dirk has removed any hope of
escape. Slowly, his motions exaggerated and laborious like he's just so
exasperated that he has to do all this work, Dirk eases Dave's tie off from
around his neck, and then unceremoniously casts it aside to be forgotten on the
floor. Next he's pushing off Dave's suit jacket, which forces Dave to
reluctantly retrieve his hands from his pockets. When the kid begins to work on
the buttons of his shirt, Dave has opened his eyes and looked back down again,
locked in a gaze with Dirk that makes him feel as if he's being eaten alive.
Dirk never once looks at what he's doing; he just stares Dave straight in the
eye like all that raw emotion and naked fear sustains him, never blinking until
he's worked off Dave's shirt and his hungry gaze moves to devouring the expanse
of his older brother's now bare chest.
Dave shivers when Dirk's hands begin to explore his skin, his fingers
alarmingly cold to the touch. One of them slips around and presses into the
small of Dave's back, and then Dirk is licking and kissing his body, every
place his lips touch set on fire like some sort of maddening icy-hot that just
pushes away any shred of reason Dave may have been fruitlessly clinging to.
Dave lifts a hand to grasp onto his brother's shoulder, who flinches as if
honestly surprised &#x2014; but then he just steals a glance back up into
Dave's eyes, blaring his infuriating triumphance even in the most fleeting of
looks, before relaxing into his touch.
Dave's hands wander aimlessly, resting on his brother's bicep one moment and
caressing the nape of his neck the next. He works his fingers into his hair and
begins to... pet him, just something so soft and affectionate, and then Dirk
pulls back, for once in all of this betraying some level of discomfort he may
have not even known he held &#x2014; but the both of them share a look that
says it's too far gone, and if either of them wanted to reappraise whether the
drop might just be too steep, it was too late to turn back now.
Dave brushes Dirk's hair off his forehead and smiles something awful, sad as it
is fond. Dirk looks as if he's close to balking, but when Dave finally leans
forward and brushes his lips against his, the fire is back and any semblance of
indecision dies in the air.
With a sharp, visceral intake of breath, the kid immediately seizes control and
turns the kiss into a bruising one, clasping the sides of Dave's face in his
hands. Dave loses his balance from the sudden forceful gesture, toppling
forward &#x2014; Dirk wastes no time capitalizing on the opportunity and shoves
Dave off onto the bed, quickly swinging his leg over to straddle Dave's hips
and return to hungrily biting at his lips.
Allowing himself his vice, Dave just gives himself to the lust, running his
hands over Dirk's back and the curve of his maddeningly clothed ass. The kid
clearly notices the change, and ever so pleased with himself, laughs softly
into Dave's mouth.
"Oh, yeah, be more smug," Dave grouses, having broken away to scowl at his
little brother ineffectually. This only seems to egg Dirk on; he sits back up,
taking great care to grind his ass against Dave's crotch as he does so, and
peels his shirt off from his body. That self-satisfied smirk is ever present as
Dave's eyes rake over him &#x2014; Dave finds his mouth dry when he moves to
wet his lips.
Then Dirk is taking Dave's hands into his own and guiding them to his crotch,
pushing Dave's palm against his straining erection. Dave flexes his fingers,
squeezing it, which earns him approving sigh. Encouraged, Dave presses more
firmly and begins to rub, pushing his fingers into the gap between their bodies
to stroke his balls, then back up again, then back again. Dirk thrusts his hips
into the touch, breath noticeably quickened.
Before long the kid's run out of patience, and he grabs hold of Dave's hand
again to direct him to the fly of his jeans. Dave is hesitant, but Dirk makes
it perfectly clear that he intends to wait for his older brother to do it
himself. Dave's hands tremble despite himself when he fumbles with the the
button of Dirk's fly, and then the zipper, and then fuck he's not wearing
anything under it and it's out and holy fuck he's touching his kid's dick, what
the fuck.
When Dave isn't sure how to proceed, Dirk takes the lead again, curling Dave's
fingers around his cock. He guides Dave through the motions, squeezing here and
rubbing there, showing his brother what he likes. When Dave has the hang of it
Dirk lets go and leaves him to his own devices, Dave incredulous at the fact he
is seriously jacking his kid brother off.
"What are we even doing," Dave mumbles, rhythmically stroking Dirk's length in
his trembling hand.
"Don't talk, you're ruining it."
"Seriously, kid&#x2014;"
And then Dirk bats Dave's hand away and crawls his way up his brother's body
until he's settled back down astride Dave's chest and shoulders, his member
politely thrust into his face. "Really, shut up."
Awkward stillness.
"Well, get to it, bro. I can't exactly do this for you."
Embarrassed, but utterly unable to extricate himself given the positional
circumstances, Dave settles for trying to squirm and turn his head away. It
doesn't help.
"I haven't... uh..."
That earns Dave a bark of laughter from Dirk that makes him cringe reflexively.
"Goodness, brother, am I taking your virginity?" When Dave just scowls up at
him derisively, Dirk rolls his eyes and takes on an exaggeratedly exasperated
tone. "It's not difficult. Just cover your teeth and blow."
"But &#x2014;"
"I'm not going to be pissed if you suck at it as long as you suck at it."
Dave groans.
"I swear, gettin' you to do one nice thing for your li'l bro is like
pulling&#x2014; Oh."
Then Dirk is doubling forward, catching himself with his palms at the head of
the bed, as Dave takes his brother's length into his mouth. It's an
uncomfortable angle, and Dave isn't able to move much; he mouths and licks at
the head of his dick, Dirk trembling fitfully at the tantalizing stimulation.
Before long Dave is all together at the mercy of Dirk's movements, the younger
boy taken to thoroughly fucking his brother's face &#x2014; thankfully, Dirk
finds Dave's limit quickly and doesn't push far past it, shallowly thrusting
into his mouth as Dave does his best to be participatory with the ministrations
of his tongue. Awkwardly searching for something to do with his hands, Dave
brings them up to grip and massage Dirk's firm spread thighs.
Dave is rather surprised to discover how much he enjoys the feel of it in his
mouth, and the taste, heady and savory and masculine, and he finds himself
sucking at it as much for his own enjoyment as his brother's. The position is
spectacularly uncomfortable, though &#x2014; Dave quickly ends up with a pain
in his neck that rapidly drains all the fun out of it. He extricates himself
the first chance he gets, to Dirk's consternation, but cuts off the kid before
he can complain.
"At least let me do it at an angle that doesn't kill my neck."
"Fine," Dirk accedes with a roll of his eyes, moving over to free his brother.
As Dave sits himself upright and begins to work the kink out of his neck, Dirk
busies himself with wiggling the rest of the way out of his pants and then
discards them on the floor with the rest of his clothes. He reclines with about
as much confident arrogance as one can manage whilst laying completely naked
beneath his own brother, eyebrow cocked expectantly.
Dave ends up staring. Perhaps the most abrasive part of Dirk's bravado is how
right he always is about it &#x2014; and his apparent confidence in his sex
appeal is no exception. Though youthful, he is certainly far from childlike,
slim and wiry with toned muscle, broad shoulders and long legs &#x2014; Dave's
eyes rake over his brother's body appreciatively. His dick is pretty fucking
big for fifteen, Dave notes ambivalently. It looks like it's still smaller than
his own, by not by terribly much, and probably not for much longer.
"Christ, is there anything you'll go to on your own? Must I harangue your slow
ass yet again?"
Dave is shaken from his reverie; this time it's his turn to roll his eyes. "You
could stand to learn some patience, kid."
"You could stand to suck my dick, old man."
So he does.
Now settled between his brother's legs, Dave experimentally drags the length of
his tongue up the underside of Dirk's cock, and the shudder that runs through
the kid's body seems to mark that one as a success. It isn't that difficult,
Dave finds; while not particularly well versed in the majestic art of the skin
flute, he knows what he likes, and that seems to be most of what Dirk likes as
well. I guess that's a point for incest, Dave notes sardonically.
Dave cups one palm up under his brother's balls and massages them gently, using
the other hand to press the length of Dirk's cock up against his stomach. Dave
mouths his way up the shaft from the base, fleeting kisses from his lips and a
light lick from his tongue, the tantalizing stimulation setting his brother to
squirm beneath him. Dave decides he quite likes being a tease, and sets to
licking and sucking at his balls, rhythmically stroking his taint and around
his ass with his fingers.
"Just put it in your mouth, fuck," Dirk admonishes breathlessly, evidently not
having learned any patience after all.
So Dave relents, though not without shooting the kid a look. With a fist
wrapped around the base, he envelops the head of Dirk's cock and swirls his
tongue &#x2014; Dave sputters and gags when the younger boy bucks his hips a
bit too enthusiastically.
"Fuck, bro, cool it."
"Sorry &#x2014; whatever &#x2014; ah, just keep going."
Dave sighs. Take two: this time the kid manages to contain himself, and the
going's much smoother. He takes in the length in as far as it will go and gives
it a good stroke of his tongue before working up a steady rhythm, pumping the
shaft with his fist in time with the motions of his head.
Dirk's fingers find their way into Dave's hair and tangle themselves there; the
kid starts to take control again, forcing Dave to take it deeper and faster,
and then precum is coating his tongue and it tastes so good and fuck Dave has
never been more rock hard in his life.
Then Dave can feel it throbbing in his mouth and he's sure he's about come, and
he's fucking eager to have it fill his mouth and swallow it down, fuck fuck
fuck fuck fuck, but at the last minute Dirk's hands are pulling him away and up
and crushing their lips together and probing inside his mouth with his tongue
and Dave just wants to eat his brother alive.
This time it's Dirk who has to struggle to break free. "I want you to fuck me,"
he gasps out, heavy and hot, and his breath hitches in his throat when Dave
hungrily licks and sucks and bites at his neck.
"Yeah?" Dave asks, in between a nip at Dirk's jaw. He pointedly grinds his own
still-clothed erection against his brother's, who arches his back and rakes
Dave's shoulders with his blunt nails.
"Yeah," Dirk echoes breathlessly. "Just let me &#x2014; ahh, fuck &#x2014;"
Dave rocks his hips again. "&#x2014; fuck, bro &#x2014; okay, hold on, stop,
for a second &#x2014; uhf." Dirk finally just shoves him off, and as he
scrambles over to root through the pile of puppets at the head of the bed, Dave
tears his own pants the fuck off.
Dave isn't sure what the hell he's digging for in there, but he definitely
notices the kid's choice ass as he's bent over a pillow with his thighs splayed
apart, and it's all he can do to stop himself from just &#x2014;
Actually, why is he stopping himself?
Even Dirk seems genuinely shocked when Dave grabs him by the hips and roughly
drags him back and just buries his face into his ass, as the strangled cry that
escapes his throat attests. "Wha&#x2014; fuck&#x2014; yes, you're starting to
get it &#x2014;" Then his tongue is stroking along his taint, tracing the ring
of muscle, pressing inside with urgency &#x2014; Dave has never eaten out an
ass and has never wanted to except now he suddenly really does and Dirk is
writhing beneath him and pushing up into his face with his breath racing a mile
a minute and Dave feels like he's close to blow without even having touched
himself.
Then neither of them can stand it any longer, and as Dave is crawling his way
up his body Dirk is twisting around to lie on his back.
"Do you have any&#x2014;"
Dave is interrupted by a tube of lube being shoved into his hand. That answers
what he was looking for in there.
"Start with your fingers, and make sure &#x2014;"
"I've done this before," Dave interjects, still unavoidably incredulous at the
concept of his fifteen year old kid brother schooling him at sex. Dirk huffs
superciliously, but lifts a leg nonetheless. Dave settles a bit off to Dirk's
side, propping himself up by his elbow; he uncaps the tube and squeezes far
more than he has to onto his fingers and palm, and Dirk seems to somehow manage
to look particularly exasperated about the waste, but that's quickly chased
away when Dave reaches his hand down between them and slips a slicked finger
into his ass.
Dirk immediately pushes into the touch, the sigh escaping his throat sounding
spectacularly relieved. Dave works rapidly, inserting a second finger as soon
as he's sure the kid can take it, and then a third, scissoring them out and
curling them up and driving them as deep as they'll go. Dirk is clinging to him
and rocking his hips in time with his thrusts, and it's not long before he's
practically begging for it.
"Do it. Now. Do it, do it, do it."
Dave is more than happy to oblige, withdrawing his fingers and coating his own
dick with his liberally slicked palm. He clambers into place on top of Dirk,
who immediately hooks his legs around Dave's waist and presses against his ass
with his heels; their cocks slide together and the both of them are awkwardly
scrambling to guide Dave in, hands knocking, but Dave bats him away and readies
it at his entrance and then fuck he's pushing inside, at first slowly but then
Dave can't fucking take any of that and thrusts, fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. Dirk
shudders beneath him and bites his shoulder and scratches his back and Dave is
still for all of a moment before the kid makes it damn clear he doesn't need to
wait for him to be ready, just go.
So Dave fucking goes. He resolves to start out easy but that goes straight out
the fucking window, and by the second stroke he's driving it in as hard and
deep and fast as he can go. His brother's ass is so impossibly slick and tight
that every time he rocks forward it feels like he's being sucked in, and
pulling out is almost a struggle with the way he clenches his muscles around
Dave's dick, and Jesus fucking Christ nothing has ever felt so fucking
incredible. The kid starts making this sound, and it's obvious he's fucking
playing it up, but he's breathing it right into Dave's ear and Dave can't
fucking handle it, he shivers and falters for just a moment, but Dirk won't
stand for a second's pause.
Then he's flipping Dave over, pushing him down onto the mattress when he
struggles. His cock slips out and the both of them seem to be practically
driven mad, Dave rocking his hips to try to push back in but only manages to
slide between the cheeks of the kid's ass. Dirk lifts himself up and reaches
his hand back to guide it back inside, and then he's sinking back down around
his cock, and Jesus fuck how is it even possible to be that tight. The kid
works up a rhythm, rocking up with his fingers braced against Dave's stomach
until the head nearly pops out and then slides back down to the hilt. He picks
up the moaning again, this time unnecessarily loud, practically taunting Dave
with his eyes as he does it.
"F-fuck, keep it down, everyone in the fucking building is going to hear you."
That was apparently the wrong thing to say. He leans back on one of his hands,
the other wrapped around his own cock, arching his back to stretch his body
into full display. He pitches up louder and louder until he's seriously fucking
screaming, "Fuck yes, bro, I love your cock," and fuck someone is going to call
the fucking cops, so Dave lurches up, trying to push him onto his back and
silence the kid with his lips. Dirk kisses back hungrily, sucking at Dave's
lips so hard they'll bruise, but refuses to cede control; they clumsily fight
one another, tossing and turning across the bed, until the both of them topple
off the edge to the floor.
Dirk tries to scramble across the ground for purchase, but Dave is too fast,
pinning his brother prone to the floor with the weight of his body, trapping
his wrists beside his head. Dirk seems to have realized when he's been beat, as
he angles his hips and pushes back up against Dave's cock. "Get it back in,
already, don't keep me waiting," he says, words punctuated by shallow gasps for
breath.
Dave slides back inside with one fluid motion, freeing Dirk's wrists to better
support his weight against the floor. Soon Dave settles into a rapid pace, the
full weight of his body behind every thrust. Dave notices Dirk trying to
awkwardly wedge his hand between his own body and the floor, but with Dave
practically pressed down on top of his back he can't get it under; Dave hoists
him up so that the kid's hips are sufficiently lifted off the ground to slip
his own hand around to wrap around his cock, pumping in time with his motions.
The genuine breathy gasps that Dave earns each time he thrusts are a great deal
more pleasant to listen to than the manufactured porn star cacophony. There's a
particular spot that seems to provoke the greatest response, so Dave angles his
hips to stroke it again and again, and before long Dirk is biting his lip and
writhing beneath him and pushing up as if all the way weren't nearly deep
enough. The sight of his brother so at his mercy gets Dave terribly flustered
and his thrusts and the motions of his hand grow erratic and out of time, and
fuck, fuck, fuck, he's getting close.
Dirk seems to notice, as he rasps out, "Ah, fuck, yes, inside me, do it,
fuck&#x2014;" and it sends Dave over the fucking edge, shallowly snapping his
hips as he comes, Dirk clenching his muscles around his dick for the most
intense fucking orgasm of his life. The kid isn't far behind; Dave leaves his
softening dick inside as he rapidly jerks at Dirk's cock and before long he's
gasping and spilling onto the floor.
Dave pulls out and collapses on his back on the floor, exhausted and panting as
he stares at the ceiling. Dirk comes to lay beside him, hands splayed across
his own stomach, and both are quiet but for the sound of their heavy breathing.
"Jesus Christ, bro, how many guys have you fucked?" Dave awkwardly asks after a
time, far more of his concern bleeding through than he intended to betray. Dirk
doesn't miss it, and coyly laughs it off.
"You know, most people would be happy about getting a good ride and leave it at
that."
"Forgive me if I'm a bit worried when I discover my fifteen year old kid
brother fucks like a thousand dollar whore."
"Oh, where to begin with that one. 'Only a thousand?' 'Gosh, bro, you must know
a lot about hookers to pinpoint my price range'? I simply can't decide."
Dave pointedly ignores his deflection, sitting up a bit on his elbows to look
at Dirk. "Really, dude. What have you been doing? I know I'm clean, but are
you?"
Dirk finally deigns to give a straight answer, but not without being certain
that his expression and tone convey as much exasperation as he can muster. "If
you must know, not many. Any, really. Was always easier to just... do it
myself."
It takes Dave a moment.
"You have sex with your robots?"
"Oh, come on. Did you honestly ever believe that the very first thing I made
wasn't a sexbot?"
Dave makes a disgusted face. "Ugh, why did I ask &#x2014; did not want to know
&#x2014;"
A teasing smirk. "Considering you literally just fucked me in the ass, I think
we're a little far past the whole 'daddy scandalized by junior having a sex
drive' thing."
... Aaaand there comes the guilt, all rushing back at once.
Dave flops back to the floor on his back and presses the heels of his palms
into his eyes, exhaling laboriously.
"... Fuck, what did I just do?"
"If I recall correctly, you jacked me off, blew me, ate my ass, and then
drilled me so hard I'll have trouble walking for a week. I'd say what you did
was do me a fuckin' favor."
Dave turns his head to look at his brother, eyebrows knit. "You don't... you
don't regret it?"
Dirk laughs like he'd just heard the funniest thing in the world. "Are you
fuckin' kidding me?" He lazily reaches his arm over to Dave, brushing against
his cheek with his fingertips. His smile is warm and genuine. "Nah. It was
great. Really great, I mean it. I'd do it again in a heartbeat."
Dave knows that shouldn't make him feel any better about it, but it sort of
does. Part of him half expected the kid to turn into some weeping traumatized
child despite all his aggressions, but it seems like it doesn't quite work that
way. He releases the breath he was holding and turns his gaze back to the
ceiling, pensive.
Then Dirk gets up and steps over Dave to pick his shades up off the desk,
setting them on his face. He proceeds to stand there, presumably doing
something on them.
"What are you doing?" Dave asks, sitting up.
The kid looks over his shoulder down at his brother, his smile slight and coy.
"Three days."
"What?"
"Three days. That's how long it took me to get you to give it up."
Oh Jesus. Framed from that perspective, Dave suddenly feels like a horrific
fool. Was it really that short a time? It felt like weeks.
"Wow, thanks, rub it in my face. That's great. I appreciate it so much."
"The AR thought it would take me at least a month, but I bet him I could do it
in a week. It looks like we both underestimated our irresistability."
Dave is incredulous, and more than a little angry. "This was a bet?"
"Oh, no. I wanted to do it anyway. The bet just sort of corporealized as a
consequence of us arguing about it. Incidental, really."
Dave clambers to his feet and begins gathering his clothes off the floor,
glaring daggers at his brother. "Sweet. That's not utterly humiliating at all."
"Oh, stop that," Dirk says with a roll of his eyes, setting his shades back
down on the desk. He knocks the clothes out of Dave's hands and roughly pushes
him onto the bed. "It's like 3:00 AM and I'm exhausted as dick. It's time for
you to play body pillow, bro."
"No, dude," Dave says, moving to get back up. "For one, I'm pissed as hell at
you, and two, I'm not ti&#x2014;"
"Too bad," Dirk interrupts as he crawls in next to Dave, shoving him back down
onto the bed. "I did it for you, now it's your turn. Shut up."
Dave sighs.
***** Chapter 6 *****
As the minutes tick by into hours, Dave has more time to think than he wants or
knows what to do with.
Dirk was quick to drift off to sleep, but the vice grip with which he clung to
Dave hadn't relented. His head remains pillowed against Dave's shoulder, an arm
and a leg both thrown over his body. Dave stares up at the ceiling as the
darkness slowly recedes into the corners of the room, chased away by the soft
light of dawn.
It doesn't really hit him until he hazards a glance back down at his brother.
With his eyes lightly shut and his lips slightly parted in peaceful sleep,
untarnished by the insolent smirk or jaded steely gaze that paint him as a boy
well beyond his years, Dave sees as if for the first time just how young he
actually is. The guilt spreads through him in rolling waves with each slow,
steady breath that ghosts across his skin.
Extricating himself is an ordeal; when Dave tries to slip out from underneath
him, Dirk grumbles in his sleep and digs his fingers, surprisingly painfully,
into his side, refusing to let go. Dave has to deliberately pry his brother's
arm off from around him so he can sit up, legs off the edge of the bed.
He looks back over his shoulder at Dirk, who seems to have settled contentedly
on his stomach in his absence. He reaches back to pull the cover up over the
kid's shoulders, as if hiding his bared skin would sweep what happened under
the rug.
Dave is careful to remain silent as he gets up off the bed. He gropes across
the floor, collecting his strewn clothes; he can't help but cast fretful
glances over to the bed as he dresses.
He opens the door only as much as he needs to slip his body through and closes
it behind him as quietly as he can. On the balls of his feet, he makes his way
across the hall to the bathroom and pushes inside.
Dave stands before the toilet, staring down into the bowl.
His stomach roils. He feels a weight in his chest and a sickness at the back of
his throat and a dizziness that threatens to bring him to his knees, but
nothing ever quite comes. He wants to retch, feels like he should retch, like
it's the least he fucking owes the world for what he just did, but the nausea
never goes that far. Eyes glassy, Dave waits.
Eventually he gets to his knees and shoves his fingers into his mouth. He isn't
sure whether it's the pressure at the back of his throat or the fact he can
still taste his brother on his fingers that pushes him over the edge.
He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and flushes the toilet.
Slowly and unsteadily, Dave climbs to his feet. He catches himself when his
legs threaten to give, hands gripped painfully tight on the edges of the
bathroom sink. His gaze trains itself fast on the drain, never daring to glance
up.
Turning the tap of the sink is a struggle as his fingers tremble fitfully. When
he thrusts his hands under the faucet, the water is searingly hot on his skin,
but he does not recoil. He rubs his hands together until the flesh is red and
raw, and when he shuts the water back off, the burning ache lingers as a
constant remembrance. Rather than reaching for a towel, he gingerly shakes the
water off his hands.
He feels like a zombie when he steps out of the bathroom into the hallway. The
closed door to Dirk's room is an enormity before him, looming in its inanimate
stillness. He looks to his right to the living room door, and is more paralyzed
by indecision than he knows he should be.
After what feels like an eternity, Dave makes his way into the living room,
carefully and quietly shutting the door behind him.
He gets his laptop off the counter and settles onto the futon. His fingers feel
tight and the motions hurt as he boots it up and strikes the keys.
&#xA0;
-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] --
TG: i fucked up
TT: I know.
TG: what
TT: I've been keeping my eye on you since we last discussed this.
TG: ugh
TG: no
TG: lalonde why
TG: you watched
TG: god dammit
TG: that shit is creepy as hell
TG: can you not
TG: just dont ever
TT: I am aware of your stance on my vision omnifold.
TT: I am also incurably nosy.
TG: ill fucking say
TT: At any rate, we should have this conversation by another means.
TT: Pick me up from the airport at nine o'clock.
-- tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] --
TG: wait what
TG: fuck
-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] --
                                       *
Dave is at the airport by eight, and Lalonde's plane doesn't touch down until
ten.
He almost doesn't recognize her when he meets her at the gate. Her hair is
covered by a light, lilac scarf, and a pair of massive reflective aviators take
up most of her face. She even opted to forgo her signature black lipstick,
leaving her mouth looking unfamiliarly naked. The rest of her ensemble is
standard issue, but not remarkable enough to warrant her having changed
&#x2014; she wears a plain, short sleeved purple blouse with a pinched waist
over a knee-length black pencil skirt, dark sheer stockings and modestly heeled
Mary Janes.
As he feels a chill descend around him, Dave slips back on his shades.
"Sup," he says, hands thrust into his pants pockets. He didn't bother to change
out of yesterday's suit, shirt rumpled and untucked and sans tie, though he
manages to make his dishevelment look deliberate.
"Take those off," Rose chides. "It's more difficult for me to turn the
onlookers away when you're so purposefully conspicuous."
Dave shoots a glance around the terminal; indeed, it seems every head in the
airport is looking anywhere but at them. Begrudgingly, he takes them off and
puts them away in his breast pocket. She notices his burned hands, but says
nothing. "Are you happy now?"
Rose's smile is artificially sweet and mocking. "Yes, very. Shall we?" She
offers Dave her elbow, and he slips his arm through hers without hesitation.
Dave walks her out to the car, both of them reticent and neither of them
inclined to look at the other as they go. When they arrive, Dave opens the
passenger side door for her with a flourish.
"M'lady," he says; Rose rolls her eyes as she slides into the car and shuts the
door on her own. He walks around to the other side and gets in himself, putting
back on his shades the moment he does.
"Drive."
And so Dave drives, to nowhere in particular. His nerves are on edge and his
stomach is uneasy. It's a while until Rose breaks the silence.
"I do hope you understand the implications of what you've done, and the
potential consequences that will arise of it ever going public."
"Don't think I don't," Dave says, his teeth grit painfully together.
"Then why would you do it?"
"Because I'm an idiot, and weak, and a man. And fuck it, because he's so god
damn obstinate and couldn't take no for an answer."
"You can't blame him for this. He's fifteen."
Dave's head snaps over to glare at Rose, who flinches near imperceptibly as he
swerves on the road. He quickly looks back ahead, exhaling through his teeth.
"Lalonde, you don't know him. He's not some innocent little baby. If he doesn't
have the cognizant capability to consent and own at least some of the fucking
responsibility for this shitpile, neither do most fucking brain surgeons."
Rose hesitates before she replies, each word carefully chosen and deliberate.
"He may be very intelligent, but it doesn't mean he's emotionally ready to deal
with a sexual relationship with a man more than twice his age, let alone an
incestuous one with a high-profile public figure," she says, as measured and
gentle as she can manage.
"Fuck if he's not," Dave spits, growing fervid with frustration until his hands
are trembling on the wheel. He makes a sharp turn into a park, stops the car in
the lot, and gets out with a histrionic slam of the door. He takes off in the
direction of the nearby baseball field and throws his weight and his anger onto
its fence when he gets there, fingers woven through the chain links. The metal
digs painfully into his raw skin.
Rose comes to stand quietly next to him at the fence after a time, and Dave for
once is the one wishing he could see behind those ridiculous sunglasses.
"He's not a victim," Dave says, his voice quiet and hollow. He stares out onto
the empty baseball field, focusing on little else but avoiding Rose's
judgmental gaze.
"He's a minor," Rose replies delicately. "Regardless of the circumstances,
you've crossed a line. Legally, if not morally. And I still urge you to
consider this matter carefully, and not consign the responsibility entirely."
Dave turns his back to the fence and slides down to take a seat on the grass,
probably soiling his good pants. Rose sits herself beside him, more mindful of
her skirt.
"I know that. But I did it. It's done. I can't take it back."
The woman gently places her hand on his back.
"I have no fucking idea what to do. I can't be around him, since let's be
fucking honest, I'm going to do it again. I can't just dump him, 'cause he'd
probably fucking dial the tabloids just to spite me. I can't &#x2014; fuck, I'm
just fucked." Dave's breath is ragged. He looks to Rose for an answer, but
finds nothing.
"I... I don't know what to say," Lalonde replies after a time. "It isn't safe
for you to tell anyone what you've done now that it's gone this far."
Dave places his face in his hands and lets out the breath he didn't realize he
was holding.
"Would you like me to take him?" Rose proffers. "I know he's friends with my
daughter, and there's plenty of room in our estate for his projects. I'm sure
he would be happy there."
Dave laughs, more disdainfully than he'd intended. "Nah, he'd just take that as
an insult and try to find some way to get back at me."
A stillness stretches between them, both at a loss for helpful words.
Rose purses her lips pensively before she speaks, "Well, let me speak with him,
at the very least. My return flight is not for some time."
"... All right. We can do that. I guess."
                                       *
Dave opens the door to the apartment, letting Rose walk through.
As he steps in after her and carefully closes the door behind him, he takes
note of how her eyes sweep the room and linger on all the haphazardly strewn
puppets and broken robots.
"Nice place you have here," Rose drawls, taking off her sunglasses and scarf to
set them aside on the counter.
Dave shrugs. "I tell him to clean up and he doesn't listen. Whatever, not my
problem."
The woman's eyebrows raise in a look that's almost certainly meant to say
"you're a shitty parent", but Dave's poker face holds strong behind his shades.
Eventually she rolls her eyes and gives up, folding her hands in front of
herself. "So. Where is the child?"
"The child," Dave echoes, drawing out the word sardonically. "Is in his
bedroom, probably still asleep. He got to bed late last &#x2014;"
Dave catches himself when Rose gives him yet another equally poignantly
scathing look, and this time he is more than a little embarrassed.
"Uh... just go wake him up, I guess. I'll just... stay out here."
"Yes, I think that's for the best."
Rose sets her sights on the hallway door and strides towards it, her expression
steeled and determined. As Dave watches her disappear and close the door behind
herself, he does not envy his brother.
Now alone in the room, Dave realizes how tired he is. He suppresses a yawn,
resolving to push through the fatigue to get his sleep cycle back on track. Now
in need of something to distract himself with, he rummages around in the
kitchen; he gives a cursory scan of all the garbage he bought and almost amuses
himself when he decides he'd just rather have Cheetos instead.
He flops down onto the couch, immediately regretting it as the remote digs
painfully into his back (it seems Dirk had found it at some point, at least).
After pulling it out from underneath him, he turns on the TV and listlessly
watches an infomercial about collectible silverware sets with the volume on low
while he eats the Cheetos.
While he's certainly curious as to what exactly Lalonde has to say to Dirk, he
knows she would likely be able to tell instantly were he to make any attempt to
eavesdrop, and so he simply stares ahead with bored, glassy eyes. The minutes
drag on, and it's not until the electricity in the apartment flickers that Dave
looks over his shoulder to the hallway; a darkness seems to radiate
paradoxically from the crack under the door, and suddenly he doesn't even want
to know anymore.
Rose emerges into the living room not long after, a deathly look in her eyes
that unnerves even Dave when it falls upon him. He shuts off the TV and stands
up as Rose collects her things off the counter, looking back to the door when
Dirk appears in its frame; the kid's hair looks even more ridiculous than
usual, stood up on end to match his equally shell-shocked expression. He
catches Dave's pitying look and shrugs.
"Drive me back to the airport?" Rose says, purposefully ignoring Dirk to stare
at Dave. She makes it sound like a question, but it's obviously anything but.
                                       *
Dave keeps Rose company at the terminal as they wait for her plane to arrive,
figuring that it's something to keep him awake. They catch up on some things
and commiserate over their shared revulsion towards airport food, and bid each
other farewell when she boards. Dave keeps his head down and his shades off as
he walks back to his car, wary once he can no longer enjoy the obscurity of
Lalonde's obfuscations.
He arrives back at the apartment by the afternoon and finds Dirk sprawled out
on the futon, the TV off; Dave presumes he's screwing with his glasses and
moves to drop his keys on the counter.
"Sup, kid."
"Hey."
"You hungry?"
"Nah. I ate."
Dave looks around the kitchen. It doesn't look like he even took anything.
"What did you eat?"
"Stuff."
Dave sighs, giving up. Dirk remains motionless where he lay, staring up at the
ceiling, or whatever garbage he's running on his shades. Dave wanders over to
stand over the futon; the kid raises an eyebrow when he does.
"What did you guys talk about?" Dave asks, trying to sound less curious than he
actually is.
"Stuff."
Dave looks down at him, annoyed. He seems to be in one of those moods. "What is
the definition of stuff."
"Things and shit."
"..."
When Dave doesn't move from where he stands, Dirk groans and sits up. "We
talked about my feeeelings. It was all very heartwarming, aside from the part
where she decided it was necessary to go Gandalf on my ass and ruin my hair."
"... That's what you're mad about? Your hair?"
"Fuck you, such an impeccable coiffure takes effort to maintain. I'm not about
to let just anybody mess it up."
Dave folds his arms over his chest. "That's all you took away from that."
"What happened to your hands?" the kid asks, having caught a glimpse of Dave's
reddened skin.
Shifting his arms to hide the worst of the burns, Dave scowls and deflects his
deflection. "Nothing. Stop evading the subject."
"Well," Dirk says, standing up from his seat to walk around the futon. He
approaches Dave, who warily takes a step back towards the door. "She also made
it very clear that I absolutely must never, ever do something like this again."
His arms shoot out to box Dave in against the wall, looming close. Dave's eyes
blow wide, a fact that is revealed when Dirk pries his shades from his face and
sets them, along with his own, haphazardly aside.
Dave tries to break free when he catches his sense, but Dirk is quick to pin
him with his weight, leaning down to kiss and lick at his brother's neck.
"Dirk, stop," Dave growls, but Dirk steadfastly ignores him.
As the kid rubs his body against his crotch, Dave finds his conviction
wavering. His next protest is considerably less forceful. "We can't keep doing
this, this is fucked up," he says, now struggling half-heartedly at best when
Dirk's hands move to trap his wrists against the door.
Dirk hums as he draws his tongue along Dave's neck, earning a begrudging
shudder and a now patently apparent erection. "But that's half the fun."
Dirk weaves his fingers through his and squeezes tenderly. Pain shoots through
Dave's hands and he grimaces; the kid responds by tightening his grip, digging
his fingernails into his brother's raw skin.
"That fucking hurts," Dave grits out. He can feel Dirk grin against his neck.
"Then let go," he whispers.
So Dave lets go.
Dirk slowly releases his hands, fingers trailing down his palms &#x2014; giving
him plenty of opportunity to escape, practically taunting him to &#x2014; until
his grip resettles tight around his brother's wrists, a gesture both of them
know is more for Dave's conscience than any practical purpose.
The kid leans in to brush his lips against his brother's, still until Dave
passively parts his own to let him know to take control. And so he does,
teasing Dave's lower lip between his teeth, pulling it into his mouth to suck,
running his tongue over it and behind it to thrust into his mouth; Dave
reluctantly grows more responsive, kissing back with need. Dirk's hands slip
away from his wrists to grip his shoulders, and Dave's own guiltily find their
way to his brother's hips.
Dirk breaks away from his mouth to trail kisses along his cheek and jaw. "I
want you to give yourself to me," he breathes into Dave's ear, hand now wedged
between them to palm his erection through his pants.
"W-what?"
He snorts, slipping his hand down to cup Dave's balls and squeeze. It earns him
a sharp intake of breath. "I want to fuck your ass, dumb shit."
"No way," Dave grouses, squirming against Dirk's pinning weight. "My ass is
strictly exit only, thanks."
"That's hardly fair. I let you fuck me."
"Not gonna happen. Now let me go."
Dirk catches the lobe of Dave's ear between his teeth, sneaking his hand
underneath the waistband of his brother's pants to wrap his fingers around his
dick. Dave arches up into the kid's touch despite himself. "I think it will,"
Dirk says, coy. "Look at how bad you want me. I could make you do anything."
"I don&#x2014;"
"You do." Dirk begins to pump Dave's cock in his fist, a tantalizingly slow
rhythm. "You're, like, my slave. My fuckpuppet."
Dave groans audibly, but whether it's from the horrible puppet joke or the
quickening pace of the kid's motions isn't clear. "Just... just no."
"Then stop me."
He opens his mouth to protest, but the words catch in his throat as Dirk
tightens his grip and jerks, quickly now, and he digs his fingers painfully
into the wall behind him.
"See, you can't. You don't even want to." His hand stops, now pressing Dave's
cock up against his stomach, firm but tortuously still. "And that's just my
hand. Man, I'm just imagining all the stuff I could get you to do if I had my
mouth around you." He withdraws his hand from Dave's pants and runs both of
them up the front of his torso, rucking up his shirt, and buries his face in
the crook of his neck, biting and sucking at the skin hard enough to mark
several times over. The kid grinds his crotch against Dave's, his own erection
plainly evident. "Shit, I can feel what just thinkin' about that is doing to
you. Do you want me to suck your cock, bro?"
Dave is careful to look anywhere but at his brother. "I..."
"Tell me you want me to suck your cock."
"Y-yeah," Dave practically squeaks.
"What was that? That didn't sound like what I asked."
"I &#x2014; I want &#x2014; fuck, kid, just &#x2014; god &#x2014;"
"Good enough," Dirk laughs, grabbing Dave by the wrist to pull him over to the
futon. "You're lucky I'm feeling impatient." He roughly shoves Dave down onto
the seat, the unupholstered armrest digging painfully into his back, and
immediately straddles his waist. Dirk grabs his brother by the lapels of his
jacket and hauls him up, his mouth back on his as hungrily as ever. Dave
awkwardly grips Dirk's thighs for support, allowing himself to enjoy the savory
taste of his spit and skin and the feel of his tongue aggressively probing into
his mouth.
Then Dirk suddenly releases Dave and sits back. When his gaze returns to his
brother's flushed face, his eyes are searing and dark with lust. "Take off your
clothes," he barks assertively, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.
"Then get off. Not exactly easy to do when you're sitting right on fucking top
of me."
Dirk shifts himself off to release his brother, watching alertly. With a sigh,
Dave uncomfortably sits himself up to shrug off his jacket; when the article is
discarded on the floor, he settles back to begin working at the buttons of his
shirt, Dirk's hawk-like gaze uncomfortably intense as he sits still, hands
resting on his own knees. Shifting and twisting, he gets his shirt off as well,
torso bared.
Dave moves his hands down to push off his pants, but Dirk's impatience gets the
better of him &#x2014; suddenly he's on top of Dave, lips and fingers on his
skin. Dirk's teeth find his nipple and... oh. That's something. His tongue
flicks out to encircle the nub, then presses broad and wet against it, dragging
up, and Dave shudders. He bites his lip when the kid pinches the other between
his fingers, rubs his thumb over it, begins to suck &#x2014; Dave is all but
writhing when he switches sides.
"You like that, huh?" Dirk muses, breath hot against his skin. "You're so
worked up over this, I got no idea how you'll even handle all the other stuff
I'm gonna do to you." His mouth breaks away from Dave's nipple to kiss down his
stomach, fingers lightly trailing his sides as he shifts lower, until he comes
to a stop just above his pants.
Dirk's eyes flit up to meet Dave's, as if drinking in his confused apprehension
and lust like ambrosia. His fingers hook underneath the band of his pants and
he's pulling them down, Dave eagerly kicking his legs to help them off, and
then he is left laying bare beneath his brother.
Dirk is apparently adamantly determined to be a tease, as he kisses his way
along the insides of Dave's thighs, rubbing and licking and setting Dave to
shiver and and push up into his face.
"Damn, you really want it," the kid lilts. He brings his mouth within an inch
of Dave's dick and more than a little sadistically blows out a cool puff of
air, Dave squirming and biting his lip uncomfortably. "You have such a nice
cock." He wraps his fist around the base and flicks out his tongue to lick
across the slit, swallowing down the gathering precum. "Mm. Tastes nice, too."
He presses his lips against the tip and sucks, slurping out any of the fluid
lingering past the opening. Finally, Dirk has mercy, wrapping his lips around
it to take it in.
The kid knows how to use his tongue. It hungrily massages his shaft in time
with the motions of his mouth and fist, and with each bob of his head he takes
it further and further into his mouth until... oh god. Dirk uncurls his fingers
and shifts them under to cup Dave's balls, and he can feel it push past the
back of his mouth into his throat. Soon the kid's nose is buried in his curls
and he looks supremely pleased with himself.
Dave stares, not quite sure how to feel about that. "Just great, my fifteen
year old kid can deep throat."
Dirk withdraws, lips popping wetly on the head; when he speaks, his voice is a
bit raspy and strained. "Don't look a gift horse in the mouth."
"Jesus, that was terri&#x2014; oh god."
The kid sinks back down, taking it all the way again. This time he begins to
move, drawing up and then down again, his throat tight and hot around Dave's
cock. As his lips slide down to the hilt he pauses, and then he... Jesus, he
starts to hum, vibrating in his throat around him.
"The fuck, kid," Dave breathes out. He grows increasingly disconcerted with how
fucking good he is at this &#x2014; does he spend all god damn day blowing his
robots? What the hell. "You're a fuckin' weirdo."
Dirk pulls back again, eyebrow raised. "The hell did I do?"
"You're fifteen. At least have the decency to be worse at this than I am."
"Blah blah blah," Dirk sighs as he reaches back to fish something out of his
back pocket. Dave is immediately apprehensive, furrowing his brow.
"What are you &#x2014;" He's got the lube out again; he was prepared for this,
apparently. "Uh, no, kid, I told you, I am not &#x2014;" Dirk brusquely
disregards his brother's protestations, shoving him right back down when he
tries to sit up. He moves quickly to uncap the tube and squeeze it onto his
fingers before sliding one inside. "Oh my god."
"Stop whining. You'll be begging me for my cock before we're done, I promise."
"Yeah, I don't think so," Dave deadpans, but relents nonetheless when Dirk's
dips down between his legs, lips returning to envelope the head of his dick.
"Fuck."
Dirk blows him in time with the motions of his hand; as his head sinks down, he
drives his finger in to the knuckle, then back out again as he rises. It's a
very, very strange feeling, but the wet heat of his brother's mouth around him
is certainly very nice.
He slips a second finger in, pushing in and scissoring out. Even with just the
the two, Dave already feels uncomfortably full; when he adds the third, it
begins to border on painful.
"Slow down," Dave frets, awkwardly clawing the cushion of the seat with his
hands.
Dirk withdraws from his dick and gives him this exasperated look which is
ridiculous because it's not like he's ever done this before, a little damn
patience wouldn't hurt, and then oh god he puts a fourth one in what the fuck.
"I'm fuckin' horny, I don't want to spend all day pampering your delicate
virgin flower of an ass before I can get off."
"I take it back. You're not good at this. You are the absolute worst at this."
That seemed to have wounded his pride; the kid groans dramatically but
withdraws a finger nonetheless, working to stretch him at a slower, gentler
pace. When he slips the fourth back in, the going's a bit smoother, if still
considerably discomforting.
"You think that's enough?" he asks, still working his fingers in and out at an
easy pace.
"I don't fucking know," Dave snaps. He's starting to lose his erection. "I
haven't fucking had a dick up my ass before. I didn't even want to do this in
the first place."
Dirk sighs, pulling his fingers out. Dave watches with a mix of apprehension
and dread as the kid sits back to hastily and clumsily strip; his impatience
affects all of his movements. When he realizes that he forgot to kick his shoes
off before he pushed down his pants, his flustered discombobulation actually
makes him look his age, for once. It's an ambivalent observation.
He also certainly wasn't kidding about being horny. The kid's throbbing and
hard as a rock as he sits back up on the futon; while it doesn't manage to
quell his reluctance entirely, the sight makes Dave a bit more venturesome
about continuing.
Dirk overdoes it on the lube for Dave's peace of mind, who bites his lip as he
watches his brother's slicked hand run over his own cock. He hesitantly draws
up his knees, and Dirk shifts them back to hook Dave's legs over his shoulders
as he readies himself at the entrance. Dave stares between his own legs, stood
at an embarrassingly nervous precipice.
Dirk pushes the head inside, and fuck, even with all of the lube and
preparation it's a stretch and it feels fifty times bigger inside than it
looks. Dave is virtually hyperventilating as it slowly sinks deeper in, and
when the kid starts to pull back out again, he feels like he's being turned
inside out.
"Stop, it's too much &#x2014; I can't &#x2014; fuck &#x2014;"
"Relax," Dirk coos, voice soft. "You're just making it harder for yourself
getting so worked up."
Dirk sits still as Dave tries to calm his nerves, steadying his breathing as
best he can. He releases the tension in his body, hands splayed out over his
own lifted thighs. "Yeah, okay," Dave says, but the words come out just as
unsure as he feels.
When Dirk starts to move again, it slides in a bit more easily, but it's not
any less overwhelming. He goes a bit further than the last stroke before he
pulls back out again, and Dave sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth.
"You are such a big baby," the kid laughs, stilled again with just the head
left inside.
"Oh, forgive me fo&#x2014; mmpf&#x2014;"
Dirk shuts him up with his mouth as he drives back in, his whole body behind
the thrust, pushing Dave's knees up by his ears. Dave breaks away from his lips
to gasp for breath, blathering incoherently, "Fffffffuuuuuuucckkkking FUCK,
Dirk, fuck. Oh my god, you fuck."
Dirk laughs softly against his cheek. "You'll live, bro." He waits, sheathed to
the hilt, as Dave's erratic breaths slow and even out. Then, he whispers, "You
ready?"
"I guess. Yeah. You can... yeah, okay." Dave nervously wets his lips.
The kid begins to rock, slow and steady, brushing his lips against Dave's with
each forward thrust. The position is claustrophic and suffocating but intimate,
a weird and warm frisson spreading through Dave's chest each time his brother
kisses him. The worst of the friction is gone; Dirk's cock slides smoothly in
and out and it doesn't hurt anymore, but the sensation is foreign and
uncomfortable and Dave isn't entirely sure he particularly likes it.
Dave is about to smugly say as much when the kid shifts the angle of his stroke
and &#x2014; oh. Oh.
"Oh god what was that," Dave sputters breathlessly, curling his toes.
Dirk practically giggles. "I told you, bro."
"Do that again."
His brother is eager to oblige, and he picks up the pace with rolling snaps of
his hips, careful to strike that spot each time. Dave is feverish, awkwardly
clawing at Dirk's arms and rocking up his body to meet every thrust. "Fuck, oh
god, Dirk, this &#x2014; oh god."
"You love my huge stallion cock, huh," Dirk mutters against lips at the end of
a deep stroke.
Dave makes a disgusted face. "Okay, you are n&#x2014;" He gasps when Dirk pulls
out and slams back in again. "&#x2014; you are not going to &#x2014; fffuck
&#x2014;" Again. "&#x2014; to keep bringing up horses while we're having sex.
This stops now."
The kids breaks out a disturbingly lifelike nicker and Dave shudders. "Wow,
that is the exact opposite of sexy, I will fucking write you out of my will if
you ever do that again."
Dirk stills and raises his eyebrows, staring Dave in the face with mock
surprise. "Oh? You won't mind I stop, then?" he says, leaning back to withdraw.
Dave reflexively grabs out to get a hold onto any part of Dirk and keep him
inside, eyes gone wide. "Fuck no, you're not gonna stop," he pants, urgent.
"Put it back in."
That smirk is bad news. "You hurt my feelings. You'll have to convince me."
"W-what?"
"I told you I'd make you beg for my cock, and I meant it. So beg."
Dave lets loose a bark of derisive laughter. "Are you fucking kidding me? Fuck
no. Fuck you."
"Well, then," Dirk says, matter of fact, moving to pull out entirely.
"Wait, wait, don't&#x2014;" Dave blurts out despite himself, the deprivation of
what is now that very, very pleasant fullness pushing him past reason.
"What was that?" the sadistic shithead asks as he stops, only the head left
inside.
Dave flops back down onto his back and covers his face with his hands,
mortified. "I can't believe this. This isn't happening."
Dirk just snickers. Dave has never wanted to murder another human being more in
his entire life.
"I'm waiting."
"Please. Fuck me, bro," Dave grits out, deadpan, the sound of his voice muffled
behind his palms and dripping with barely concealed agitation.
"You'll have to do better than that."
"Please."
"Let me see your face."
"You're serious," Dave groans, dragging his hands down his face and then
dropping them by his sides. His skin is flushed red with embarrassment, and
knowing that Dirk can see that only worsens the issue. He still has to shut his
eyes and turn his head to even manage to speak. "For the love of &#x2014; god,
just &#x2014; fuck &#x2014; please."
At that, Dirk begins to push back in, tantalizingly slow. "Oh god, please, do
it &#x2014; faster &#x2014;" He's eager to comply, driving it deep. Dave just
fucking gives up on dignity. "Yes, fuck, Dirk &#x2014; fuck me, please &#x2014;
oh god, yes &#x2014;" Before long Dirk is all but pounding him into the cushion
of the seat, hard and fast, the pleasure building in a steady blur that rolls
through his body and leaves him completely incoherent.
Then suddenly and far too soon, Dirk is pulling out again &#x2014; he sits back
on the futon, watching Dave with a supremely amused expression as he
essentially flips out.
"Jesus fuck, why are you stopping again, don't make me&#x2014;"
Dirk's eyes flit down to his crotch. "Do it yourself."
The urgency with which Dave climbs into his brother's lap would probably be
pretty embarrassing if he gave anything approaching a fuck at this point.
Bracing himself against Dirk's shoulders, he lowers himself down onto his
length, shuddering when he's taken it all the way inside. Dirk grips Dave's ass
in his hands, but otherwise leaves him to his own devices.
Dave takes a while to get his bearings, but eventually settles into a rhythm,
sliding up and down on his brother's cock while he sits back and enjoys the
ride. As Dave nears the peak, he tries to wrap his hand around his own cock
&#x2014; Dirk is quick to bat his hand away.
"Don't."
"But I can't &#x2014;"
"Keep going. You'll get off when I let you."
"You are such a fucking dick," Dave grumbles, but resumes his motions
nonetheless.
Though he certainly tries very hard, stroking his brother's cock against his
prostate with each roll of his hips, he can't quite push himself to release
with that alone. He teeters on the edge, his movements growing more quick and
erratic with each passing moment, until his body is trembling from the denial
and it's a struggle to even keep moving. Dirk thrusts upwards as Dave begins to
falter, and it's clear he's getting close as well.
"Let m&#x2014;"
Dave can't even finish his thought before Dirk takes his length into his hand
and swiftly jerks, out of time with the urgent thrusts of his hips. Dave is
coming within seconds, gasping and clinging to his brother's shoulders as he
spills into his hand. Dirk finishes as Dave's peak is passing, arms wrapped
around his back to hold him suffocatingly close while he shoots deep inside.
They remain slumped against each other for a time, spent and breathing heavily.
Eventually, Dirk flops over to stretch out on the futon and drags Dave down
with him, who is exhaustedly contented to rest his head against the kid's
stomach. Dirk idly pets his brother's hair as they calm.
Dave exhales tiredly. "Jesus... I didn't know. Prostate exams weren't...
weren't like that."
"That's why doctors are doctors and not hookers, dumbass."
"Oh, shut up."
Dirk laughs softly and resumes carding his fingers through Dave's hair; the
sensation is relaxing, and Dave's eyes flutter shut.
He has half a mind to just doze off, but something uncomfortably impedes that.
Dave breaks the silence with an awkward question. "What's exactly is the
etiquette for dealing with jizz in your ass?"
"The hell would I know?"
"I did it to you. What did you do? I kinda want to just lay here but this feels
nasty as hell."
Dave can feel him shift to shrug his shoulders. "I don't know, I liked it. I
just went to sleep. Then I guess I went to the bathroom in the morning?"
"Eugh. This is really gross, when you think about it," Dave says, grimacing.
"Hence why I'm going to continue not thinking about it."
With a sigh, Dave awkwardly sits himself up. "I'm going to take a shower. You
may as well just come with me."
"All right, whatever," Dirk says, standing up after his brother to follow him
to the bathroom. With his ass both tremendously sore and unpleasantly sticky,
Dave is forced into an awkward gate, something Dirk observes with great
amusement. Dave shoots him a glare over his shoulder before he steps into the
stall and turns on the water.
Dave sets to cleaning himself in earnest, but Dirk apparently decides to be a
nagging distraction after he follows him inside. It's not long before Dave
feels something conspicuously hard pressing up against his ass.
"... Are you serious? It's been like ten fucking minutes. How are you already
hard again?"
Dirk wraps his arms around his brother from behind, pressing his lips against
his shoulder. "I'm literally a fifteen year old boy, remember?"
Dave groans as he washes his hair, steadfastly ignoring the motions of Dirk's
lips and hands on his skin. "People who aren't tiny little babies have a thing
called a refractory period."
"It's your fault, being all naked and wet and sexy and shit. Take
responsibility, bro."
"No. I'm tired and sore, fuck off with that thing."
"It's not like a dick has to go up somebody's ass every time we do it."
Dave stops to awkwardly half-twist around, shooting Dirk an incredulous look.
"You're serious. You actually want to do this again."
The kid's eyes flit down at his crotch. "Signs point to yes."
"Ugh, fine. Do what you want, but I'm getting out when I'm done, whether you're
finished or not," Dave says, grabbing to pick up the soap.
"Sure, whatever. Here, just put your legs together like &#x2014; okay, good."
Dave does his honest best to ignore his activities, but the sensation of his
brother's cock sliding between his thighs and against his balls proves to be
phenomenally distracting &#x2014; even more so when the kid's hands travel
south, grazing his softened length as they stroke and explore his body.
"Cut that out," Dave gripes, rubbing soap into his arms. Dirk, of course, takes
that as an invitation to be an insolent little shit and take his cock into his
fist.
"I guess you aren't so old after all," Dirk purrs against the back of Dave's
neck, a low rumble that sends a shiver down his spine and a rush of blood to
his groin. The kid somehow manages to avoid making a joke when he drops the
soap.
Dave begrudgingly leans into his touch, gradually coming to life in his hand.
"You're the worst, you know that," he remarks, but there's no venom to his
voice. He can feel Dirk's mouth curl into a smirk against his skin.
Then at once Dirk is turning Dave around and shoving him up against the wall of
the shower, aggressively crushing his mouth against his. Dave surges with
adrenaline, his fatigue like a forgotten dream, fisting his fingers into his
brother's hair and biting hungrily back at his lips. As Dave fervidly grinds
his hips against Dirk, cocks sliding together and against each other's
stomachs, the kid responds by slamming him hard against the tile; pain shoots
through his back and he's sure it'll bruise, but it only seems to make him
harder and his body shake with lust. He breaks away from Dirk's mouth to sink
his teeth into his collar, which earns a gasp as Dirk ruts up against him.
Dirk reaches between them to take both their cocks into his hand, jerking and
pumping erratically fast. Dave thrusts along his brother's flesh with little
restraint, panting heavily against his shoulder. It's a quick and dirty affair,
and before long Dirk is coming messily and hard all over his hand and Dave's
dick and stomach; he returns to Dave's mouth as he hastily jerks him to
completion.
Utterly out of breath, Dave slides down the wall of the stall into a heap on
the floor, the spray of the showerhead washing away the mess. Dirk just leans
an arm against the wall and smiles down at him, flushed and terribly smug.
"Jesus," Dave exhales, wiping his hands down his face. "You're practically
beating me up, here. Now I've got a sore back to go with my sore ass."
"You're welcome."
Dave thrusts his arm out to Dirk, grimacing. "Help me up, will you?"
Dirk grabs the offered arm and hoists him up, immediately pulling him in to
brush their lips together in a soft and brief kiss. Something embarrassingly
warm flutters in Dave's chest as he draws back, and he's quick to look away
from Dirk's eyes. They stand awkwardly for a time, hands lingering lightly on
each other's skin, until Dave pushes Dirk out of the way to step under the
spray. "Lemme rinse proper."
After Dave finishes and shuts off the water, the both of them take turns to dry
off. Dirk lets Dave keep the towel.
"I'm gonna go get dressed in my room."
"All right."
Dave yawns as he makes his way back into the living room. He changes into a
clean set of clothes, and picks up the clothes they'd strewn across the floor.
After slipping back on his shades and setting his own clothes aside for him to
deal with later, he takes his brother's own glasses and the rest of his shit
down to his room.
"Here, deal with this shit," he says, as he barges in unannounced. The kid is
sat at his computer in his underwear, apparently so absorbed with whatever he's
doing that he didn't even bother to finish getting dressed.
Dirk doesn't look up. "Just leave it on my bed."
Dave does as instructed and leaves without another word. The exhaustion is
hitting him hard, now, and he just about decides to give in and take a nap
&#x2014; but when he steps back into the living room and finds his laptop open,
turned on and set on the floor in front of him, that changes that. What the
fuck?
The mystery is quickly resolved when he sees Lalonde seems to have opened a
pester window with him. Groaning, Dave picks it up and settles onto the futon
to reply.
&#xA0;
-- tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] --
TT: I am not being hyperbolic when I say you are literally the thickest person
I have ever met.
TG: damn lalonde i know im big but i cant be THE thickest person youve ever met
TG: with the endless procession of dudes youve got lined up at your secluded
fuckshack im sure youve come across one or two outliers
TT: Dave, I am not talking about your penis.
TG: yeah i know
TG: im deflecting the topic through passive aggressive sardonicism
TG: i learned that from you
TG: you created this monster
TG: now you gotta scoot around behind me with a little baggie while i poop on
the sidewalk
TG: hard knock life
TT: All of these mixed metaphors are giving me whiplash.
TG: good
TT: Now I am going to do this crafty little thing where I steer the subject
right back to where it started, rendering all of your efforts for naught.
TG: dang
TG: and i worked so hard
TT: Just how utterly mad are you?
TT: My plane hadn't even landed before you screwed the pooch.
TT: Again.
TG: come on lalonde
TG: i may be a big dirty child rapist but id never touch an innocent little
puppy dog
TT: ...
TT: Dave, you have transcended the ladders of imprudence to a level of fatuity
that defies mortal comprehension.
TT: You do realize that you just typed down an explicit admission of guilt that
could be used against you in a court of law, right?
TG: whatever i stopped saving logs
TG: just delete yours
TT: A meaningless gesture, if the authorities choose to subpoena Pesterchum's
servers.
TT: And that's to say nothing of Betty Crocker.
TG: haha you think the batterwitch would condescend to putting us through the
court system
TG: that noxious hirsute harpy wouldn't settle for less than our heads at this
point
TT: Publicly destroying you could be the next best thing. This would stand to
delegitimize everything you've done to undermine her regime.
TT: There's only so much I can do to protect you.
TG: fuck it i dont even care at this point
TG: im sick of being fucking miserable about this
TG: hey
TG: lets talk about how youre this weird creepy voyeur instead
TG: probably had to shimmy off to the airplane potty in your tight little skirt
to jill yourself to the thought of your good buddy dave getting thoroughly deep
dicked by a 15 year old boy
TT: That's the grossest thing you've said.
TG: hahahaha no it fucking isnt
TG: i can think of like 10 things ive said that are way grosser than that right
off the top of my head
TG: this shit doesnt even chart
TT: Dave.
TG: come on theres no way you watched that shit and didnt think it was the
least bit hot
TG: its an established universal constant that striders are fucking gorgeous
TT: "Hot" is not the word I would use.
TG: yeah ok the part with the horses was kind of a boner killer
TG: but that aside
TG: you wouldnt keep watching if i didnt put on a good show
TT: You are being deliberately crass and juvenile with the intent to goad me
into an irrationally emotional state and misdirect me from my criticisms.
TG: that sure is a declarative statement describing the thing you think im
doing
TT: Please, Dave, take this seriously.
TT: This isn't something you can treat like a big funny joke.
TG: rose im gonna let you in on a secret
TG: since i guess you didnt pick up on this from the eighty other times i said
it
TT: What?
TG: i feel goddamn fucking awful
TG: like truly and completely vile
TG: these past few days have been without equivocation the most miserable time
of my life
TG: i cant even look at myself in the mirror
TG: like thats not a cliche
TG: i seriously cant because that is how ashamed i am
TG: i think about what ive done and i wanna puke my guts out
TG: im gonna regret it until the day i fucking die
TG: but its fucking done
TG: i did it and i cannot take it back
TG: and i really
TG: really
TG: really dont need
TG: you to sit there on your high fucking horse with your dilettante
psychobabble and tell me to fucking take this seriously
TG: so unless you can explain to me how hating myself just a little bit harder
than i already do is going to magically make everything better
TG: shut
TG: the
TG: fuck
TG: up
TT: Hating yourself is meaningless.
TT: What you need to do is stop.
TT: I've watched you. You put up barely enough of a fight to be able to say he
coerced you and then you give in to what you want.
TG: yeah im totally the bad guy here
TT: You are thirty-three years old, he is fifteen, and you are functionally his
father. You are in a compromisingly powerful position of influence and
authority over him.
TT: Yes, you are the bad guy.
TG: way to completely eschew any degree of nuance dog im impressed
TG: why didnt i realize that the world was completely black and white sooner
TG: cause hey who needs to consider individual circumstance or approach
anything on a case by case basis
TG: that shits for assholes
TG: wait
TG: no thats fucking stupid as hell
TT: So, which is it?
TT: Do you hate yourself for what you've done, or are you a blameless victim?
TG: i mostly hate you right now
TT: Dave, I'm saying this because I care about you.
TG: so do i
TG: youre like a sister to me
TG: and now im using my big brother authority to tell you to lay off
TT: Should I be concerned you'll be trying to worm your way into my pants next?

TG: wow
TG: thats
TG: pretty much the cruelest thing that ever got said
TG: bring out the gold fucking medal for rose "abhorrent bitch" lalonde
TG: nastiest cunt of the century
TG: will the audience give her a resounding round of fuck you
TT: You're being so maddeningly defeatist.
TT: You can't undo what you've already done, but you can prevent it from
getting even worse.
TT: You need to stop wallowing in self-pity and making excuses for yourself and
put an end to this.
TG: i know that
TT: Then why don't you?
TG: because im a fucking moron who thinks with his dick
TG: why else
TT: Don't be like that.
TT: You know what the right thing is. It's just a matter of doing it.
TG: yes its all so simple
TT: Yes, it really is.
TG: yeah ok
TG: i guess theres not much to discuss then is there
TG: i think were pretty much done here
TT: If that's how you're going to be, I suppose we are.
TG: cool
TG: see you
TG: also jesus fucking christ stop watching me have sex im serious
-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] --
&#xA0;
Dave closes the lid to his laptop and sets it aside, a fitful dread welling in
the pit of his stomach. With his elbows on his knees, he leans forward to
cradle his face in his hands, exhaling shakily into his burned palms. The skin
still hurts to touch.
He's startled when his brother's voice breaks his reverie. "Hey."
When Dave glances up, he finds Dirk stood near the end of futon, his gaze
quizzical as he looks down from behind his shades. "Hey," Dave echoes warily.
The kid comes to sit next to him, attempting to rest his chin against his
shoulder; Dave immediately recoils and scoots away down the seat, his
expression apprehensive.
"What's wrong?" Dirk asks, sitting back with his hands in his lap.
"This has to stop."
Dirk raises an eyebrow, a mocking upward turn to the corner of his mouth.
"What, putting my head on your shoulder?"
Dave rubs his temples and sighs. "No. This. Just... all of this."
"Why? I mean, as far as all the garbage you're worried about is concerned, the
damage is already done. Might as well keep getting the 'great sex' part of the
deal," Dirk remarks, his tone irritatingly cavalier.
With a huff, Dave quickly rises from his seat and turns to glare down at his
brother, emotion readily bleeding through even from behind his dark shades.
"How do you still not get it?"
"What?" Dirk asks; he remains sat upon the futon, unflinching under Dave's
stare.
"Even if you put aside the part where I could fucking go to jail and lose
everything, it still makes me feel fucking terrible."
As Dave grows increasingly flustered, the kid's voice remains steady and calm.
"Bullshit. You love it."
The words fall hastily and increasingly disjointedly from Dave's mouth. "Yes,
that's fucking why I feel awful!You're fifteen. You're a child." Suddenly
looking at Dirk is a struggle, and he has to turn away to exhale into his hands
as he drags them down his face. "You're my little bro, my kid. This is sick, I
shouldn't want &#x2014; I shouldn't &#x2014;"
Agitation creeps into Dirk's voice as he replies, "That's ridiculous. I'm not a
child. I'm a hell of a lot more intelligent than any of the little helpless
shits those legislations are written to protect."
Dave turns back, the flustered anger giving way to subdued despondence. "I know
that. I know. But it doesn't change the fact that I &#x2014; I can't, I can't
just turn that off, or not feel like I'm defiling y&#x2014;"
The kid looses a harsh bark of laughter. "Defilingme? That's hilarious. When
did I become some effete Catholic school girl?"
"God &#x2014; you didn't. Are you even listening? I &#x2014;"
"Yes, I'm listening. All I'm hearing is a big crock of shit, though."
Dave throws up his hands. "You are impossible!"
"I can make my own decisions &#x2014;"
"I know that &#x2014;"
"&#x2014; age is a god damn number &#x2014;"
"I know! Shut up! Listen!"
Dirk stops, scowling darkly at his brother as he gesticulates.
"That doesn't matter. It doesn't make it go away. This has to end, for my
sanity if nothing else."
Dirk sits quietly for a time, the both of them locked into a tense stare. When
he finally speaks, his voice is controlled and even, careful to betray little
of his discomposure. "So, what, are you just going to ditch me again?"
"Could I even? How do I know you won't sell me out to the tabloids to spite
me?"
The kid seems almost surprised to hear the words. "I don't know whether to be
insulted you apparently think I'm a complete psychopath, or flattered you want
to be with me so badly you'd invent such a transparently specious and delusive
justification to convince yourself to stay."
"I don't even know with you. I honestly don't. You can be so cruel."
Dirk looks down at his hands in his lap, absently fidgeting with his fingers.
"Well, I wouldn't. Of course I wouldn't. You're my brother and I love you."
Dave opens and closes his mouth, at a loss. Despite the kid's attempts to play
at being remote and aloof, Dave knows that meant more than the pretense of
brotherly affection he hides behind. In that moment, Dave feels the weight of
all his failures and mistakes bearing down on top of him, overwhelmed by regret
and shame &#x2014; certainly for what he's done, but most of all for what he
hasn't, and all the things it's far too late for him to ever fix. They share a
discomforted silence that speaks more than their words, neither able to look at
the other.
He searches for a reason to stay. Even with all of the guilt and odium, he
wants nothing more but to just forget all of the societal bullshit and let
himselfhave it, to give Dirk what he wants, to just be happy, but he can find
no further excuse or justification that wouldn't leave him despising himself.
He knows he can't control himself, and he knows the kid won't relent, and he
knows that there's only one path of recourse left to him &#x2014; but the
decision is loathsome and hard all the same.
When Dave finally manages to speak, he is utterly unable to conceal his
miserable contrition; he knows there isn't even a point to try. "I'm sorry,
kid. I have to &#x2014; I, I just can't."
Dirk can't meet his eyes. His gaze remains avoidant and downward cast as he
struggles to maintain his own carefully constructed stoic facade; the stilted
artifice of his measured tone speaks for itself. "It's fine. It's not like this
comes as some kind of big shock. The only thing I have ever, ever expected from
you is that one day you will leave."
"Dirk &#x2014;"
"Really, I don't even care. You can just go," he says, but the increasingly
apparent difficulty he's having with keeping the emotion from his voice betrays
him.
"Dirk &#x2014;"
"What? Just fucking go. Get out."
"I'm so sorry," Dave mutters, frowning deeply.
Dirk's head snaps up, the cold fury bleeding through to every word. "Get the
fuck out."
Dave finds himself stunned by his brother's anger. When Dave makes no move to
go, Dirk rises himself, and within seconds the hallway door is slamming behind
him and Dave is left alone in the settling dust of the aftermath.
He stands in quiet stillness, staring at the closed door. Part of him wants to
follow, to apologize and assure him and make some stupid attempt to fix this
mess.
Part of him knows that if he does, he'll never leave.
Dave still never unpacked; when he gathers his things and walks through the
apartment door, it's as if he had never been there.
***** Epilogue *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
-- tipsyGnostalgic [TG] began pestering timaeusTestified [TT] --
TG: haaaaaaaaaay gUuUuUuUrRrRrL
TT: Hello.
TG: hay
TT: Hey.
TG: haaaaaaaaay
TT: I have acknowledged your greeting, Roxy. We can procede to having a
conversation.
TG: haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay
TT: Or not. You could continue to type nonsense at me. That's fine, too.
TG: i was waiting for you to make a horse joke doofus
TG: mads disappointed up in here
TG: cause dang i made that one easy and u just let it trot on by
TG: took u by ur little reins and leaded u right up but u just aint drinkin
TT: I'm sorry to let you down.
TT: Maybe it's time to put me out to pasture.
TG: man that wasnt even a good one
TG: liek that was way worse than those bad puns i just made and those were
crazy kinds of bad
TG: goin and makin me worry dudelybro
TT: I guess I'm just not feeling it lately.
TG: what if i lose my source of equestrian related humor forever what will i do
with myself
TT: Drink the pain away, I suspect.
TG: ENewayzz
TG: hay
TG: i gots a question
TT: What is it?
TG: when exactly did my mom leave your place???
TT: I could make a pretty choice sexual innuendo right there, but that would be
crass of me.
TG: ha ha just laffin my mayo over here
TG: but really when
TT: Three days ago, I think?
TT: Why?
TG: o
TG: cause
TG: she still hasnt gotten back
TG: or called me or nething
TT: Have you tried calling her?
TG: yeah but
TG: sometimes she does that blackout shit
TG: so i dont even know
TG: what that means
TG: if its anything bad
TG: or just her bein her normal witchy ladywizard self
TT: Did she say when to expect her back?
TG: no she just said shed be gone for
TG: """""A TIME"""""
TG: didnt bother to quantify exactly what """"""A TIME""""" is which woulda
been helpful but no
TG: no ideas
TG: i didnt even know where she was goin until you told me you saw her
TT: Then no, I don't really know anything.
TT: Sorry.
TG: meh its fine
TG: this isnt the first time shes done this
TG: its probs nothing
TT: I hope so.
TG: alrighty
TG: its time for me 2 get my ILL VIDYA ON
TG: ttyl striman <3
-- tipsyGnostalgic [TG] ceased pestering timaeusTestified [TT] --
&#xA0;
-- tipsyGnostalgic [TG] began pestering timaeusTestified [TT] --
TG: do u know
TG: what
TG: i just realized
TT: Haven't the faintest.
TG: i gots da hizzouse
TG: alls
TG: to
TG: myself
TT: She still isn't back?
TG: nope
TG: but what she also isnt back to bein
TG: is around the cabinet of liquors
TG: do you got any IDEA how free i am
TT: I don't recall you having any trouble getting to the sauce even when she is
around.
TG: yeah BUT
TG: now i can just alls and waltz in
TG: no glancin over my shoulder
TG: shifty shifty glances are a thing of the past
TG: dang its like ive all done and got ADULTED
TT: Isn't it generally more adult to not be plastered off your ass all the
time?
TG: man dirk you dont even know nothin
TG: pull up a chair buddy cause im about to go and school you in bein an adult
TG: some sick ass quantities of learning are about to take the hell place
TG: i hope ur tiny little thinkpan can handle this crazy knowledge flood
TT: I studiously await the undoubtedly sagacious wisdom that is about to be
imparted upon my piteously uneducated person.
TG: you bettah
TG: anyway its about
TG: doin any damn thing that you want to do
TT: I don't know if that's strictly accurate, but ok.
TG: shhhhhh
TG: and
TG: what i wants 2 do
TG: is paaaaaaaaaaarTAY
TG: its gonna be crazy the kinds of partying ill be doing
TG: the roofs gonna be thumpin
TG: i gonna have to hire a bouncer to keep all these kids out cause everyones
gonna be linin up to get at some of this mad fun ill be havin
TG: shame youll be missin out
TG: shame distri
TT: Roxy, you live by yourself in the middle of the woods.
TT: I don't think any "kids" will be lining up.
TG: yeah its gonna be a
TG: cat party :3
TG: ill get all my feline friendlies together
TG: big mess o fur goin on
TG: tomcats will be comin from miles
TT: I suppose you will at least enjoy the pleasure of being covered in pussy.
TG: HA HA HA laffin my PUSSAY off
TG: loooool see what i did there instead of ass i said pussy
TG: referring to my genitalia and acknowledging that double entendre you just
made
TG: wasnt that clever
TG: ha ha ha ha ha
TT: Ha ha ha ha ha.
TT: Look at all of these deliberately terrible jokes we be slinging.
TT: I am experiencing difficultly handling the unbridled radness of these
snaps.
TG: fo sho
TT: Anyway, I've got some stuff to take care of.
TT: Try not to completely destroy your liver, ok?
TG: nething 4 u bby~~~
TG: see ya
-- timaeusTestified [TT] ceased pestering tipsyGnostalgic [TG] --
&#xA0;
-- tipsyGnostalgic [TG] began pestering timaeusTestified [TT] --
TG: hey strider
TG: hey hey hey
TG: geuss wat
TG: *guess
TT: What?
TG: u gotsa guess
TT: No.
TG: GUESS DUNKOFF
TT: No.
TG: siiiiiGGGHHH
TG: u are absolutely no fun nemore
TG: no fun AT ALL
TT: What do you need?
TG: its somethin really important
TT: Alright.
TT: I will tender precisely one guess:
TT: You're drunk.
TG: gosh dirk that would be way 2 obveous
TG: *obvious
TG: wat do u take me for some
TG: OBVIOUS JOKE MAKIN GAL
TT: Yes.
TG: dang
TG: daaaaaaaaang
TG: im dangin up a storm here cause that hurt so dang bad
TG: cut strait 2 teh bone
TG: gonna haff 2 check myself into some physical therapy
TT: You have thoroughly stumped me.
TT: I do not have the mental acuity to see this grandly important fact of which
you speak.
TT: I am the Watson to your Holmes, bereft of the prodigiously herculean levels
of perspicacity that enable you to make such keen observations of the world.
TT: I grovel at your feet, begging for any scraps of enlightenment you see fit
to impart upon me, for I have lived a life that has known little of such
privilege.
TG: wowee
TG: i didnt read a daang word a any of that
TT: Maybe I'll stop reading the shit you say, too.
TT: It's got about as much substance.
TG: man ur pissy 2day
TT: Am I?
TG: hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm yes
TG: i think that u are
TT: I don't think I'm being pissy.
TG: u so are
TT: I know you are but what am I.
TG: roffulmayoz stridyboo
TG: *poo
TG: *poop
TG: hehe poop
TT: ...
TT: Ok.
TT: What do you want.
TT: Just tell me.
TG: ok..............
TG: the crazy thing is..............
TG: ...................
TG: ...........................
TG: im pettin my cat!!!!
TG: ahahahahaha
TT: That's it?
TT: You wanted to tell me that you are petting your cat.
TG: el oh el hahahahaha man i got u god
TG: hahaha im laufing so hard
TG: im in tears
TG: i just fell off
TG: my bed
TG: hahaha but now my cat ran away look at wat u did
TG: sall ur falt
TG: *fault
TT: That's... nice, Roxy.
TG: ackchewallee i lied
TT: What?
TG: i dint ENTIRELY fall off my bad
TG: im like half on it half off
TG: liek my headz on the floor and i got my butt up there
TG: its kinda uncomfortable
TT: Then maybe you should get up.
TG: naaaaahhhhh
TG: o here cumz mister kittay back again
TG: dang i got mad kinds of scritches up in my hands for the best little pussy
i ever did see
TG: i wish u could see how much he loves his itchy witchy kitty scritchies it
is sooooooo cute :3
TT: This is getting really tiresome.
TT: I am going to go, because I have things to do that are better than talking
about your cat.
TG: wait
TT: What?
TG: meh nvm :(
TG: bye
-- tipsyGnostalgic [TG] ceased pestering timaeusTestified [TT] --
&#xA0;
-- tipsyGnostalgic [TG] began pestering timaeusTestified [TT] --
TG: so
TG: shes still not back
TT: Still?
TT: How long as it been?
TG: like two weeks???
TG: and
TG: im starting to seriously worry
TG: a little
TG: i mean she leaves sometimes but she always tells me when its gonna be a
while
TT: You haven't heard anything about her on the news, have you?
TG: no
TG: like i even wrote this script to mine a mess of news aggregates for any
shit
TG: but theres nothing at all
TG: some stuff from her publisher about her next book but thats it
TG: the rumor mill is like totes silent
TG: which is fuckin weird bcuz theyre always makin up some shit about her
TG: what if the batterwitch
TG: fcuk forget it
TG: im not gonna worry about it im just gonna
TG: l8ers
TT: I'm sorry, Rox.
-- tipsyGnostalgic [TG] ceased pestering timaeusTestified [TT] --
&#xA0;
-- tipsyGnostalgic [TG] began pestering timaeusTestified [TT] --
TG: dirk i dotn fukinknwo watusd to do
TT: Jesus, how drunk are you?
TG: fukkin durkn as hel w/e
TG: wat if she dosent come back
TG: liek wat if the baterwutch finaly got hr
TG: im freakin out i don
TG: i dont
TG: just
TG: wat am i supose to do
TT: I really don't know. I'm sorry.
TT: Have you called the police?
TG: lamfo liek teh watterbitch dosnt
TG: dosent have her fingres in TAHT pie
TT: It doesn't hurt to try.
TG: i t cold fuking hurt wat if
TG: tehy want 2 kill me`2
TG: wat if i bring da popo out hre an
TG: BAM
TG: cap in my azz
TG: io8u7uyuahdhbgf ahiu7y83ughyaghluihugvqv yqvye
TG: fuckfuckfuckfuckkfuckufkck :((((
TT: I don't know what to say to help.
TG: i no i dont
TG: xpect u 2
TG: jus
TG: ugh
TT: I'm here, if you ever need to talk.
TG: ye
TG: hyujgggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggg
TT: You just passed out, didn't you?
TT: Well, then.
TT: I... suppose I'll talk to you later.
-- timaeusTestified [TT] ceased pestering tipsyGnostalgic [TG] --
&#xA0;
-- timaeusTestified [TT] began pestering tipsyGnostalgic [TG] --
TT: Hey. Are you awake?
TG: yeah
TT: And on a scale from one to hella sauced, how hella sauced are you?
TG: not sauced
TG: yet
TG: u caught me early u lucky boi
TG: wutchu need
TT: What exactly happens when you try to call your mother?
TG: it just tells me her phone is out of service
TG: but thats what happens when she blacks it out neway
TG: so........
TG: why??
TT: I tried to call my bro a bit ago, and I got the same thing.
TG: oh
TG: fuckkkk :((((((((
TG: dirk :(((((((((((((
TT: We didn't exactly part on the most amicable of terms, though.
TT: So I don't know if it necessarily means anything like that.
TG: i dont wanna be like
TG: this big downer or something
TG: but
TG: do u really think thats a coincidence
TG: that they both go missing at the same time
TT: We don't know they're missing.
TG: dirk this is like the definition of missing :(
TT: They could still come back.
TG: i hope ur right
TG: but at this point
TG: i dont think
TG: that theyre going to :((
TT: Are you still monitoring the news?
TG: yeah
TG: still nothing
TT: Would you mind adding my bro's name to your script?
TG: i will
TG: i dont know how much help its going to be though
TT: Thanks.
TT: I guess.
TG: yeah
TT: I'm gonna go.
-- timaeusTestified [TT] ceased pestering tipsyGnostalgic [TG] --
&#xA0;
-- tipsyGnostalgic [TG] began pestering timaeusTestified [TT] --
TG: theyre dead
TT: What?
TT: Did you hear something?
TG: no
TT: Don't fucking say that, then.
TG: i can just
TG: feel it
TG: i geuss
TT: It's still not a sure thing.
TG: how much moer sure can it eve nget
TG: its been 2 months d
TT: It's not like they've found any bodies.
TT: Saying that without any real evidence is premature.
TG: wat the fcuk else do u think hapened
TG: lmfao do u think their like
TG: hiding????
TG: do u think the baroness invited tehm 2 a fuckin tea party????????
TG: they jus droped their phones in teh ocean cause they didnt want us 2
interrupt the fukin great time they havin right
TT: I don't know.
TT: But I'm not going to rush to conclusions.
TG: ur being so fucking dumb
TT: Why are you so angry at me?
TG: im not
TG: ugh
TG: im not angry at u
TG: i just
TT: What?
TG: i wish u would just
TG: fukin be as miserable as iam so i dont feel like
TG: fcuk just stop being so god damn cool about
TG: our fuckin PARENTS BEING DEAD
TT: I'm not being "cool" about it.
TG: yes u aer
TG: here i am sobbin g on my keybored while i nock backa whole bottla gin
TG: and ur just
TG: LOOK AT ME WITH MY
TG: RATIONAL FAXTS AN NOT JUMPING TO CONCLUSIONS
TG: BETTER NOT LET ANYBODY KNOW I HAVE FEELINGS
TT: I have feelings.
TT: I'm just not ready to declare something we don't definitively know to be
true to be true.
TT: I don't know what more you expect from me. Do you want me to smash my
keyboard and make lots of spelling mistakes?
TG: yes
TG: fuckin anything to give some indication u care
TG: ur suposed to know what im goin g thru
TG: ur the only person i can tlk to about this
TG: i tried to told jane
TG: and like
TG: she seriously doesnt even blieve me
TG: she thinsk that if she was rly dead
TG: it wolud have already been on the news
TT: It's not unreasonable to think that.
TG: omg
TG: how far in denial can u even
TG: nvm bye
TT: Roxy, wait.
-- tipsyGnostalgic [TG] ceased pestering timaeusTestified [TT] --
&#xA0;
-- timaeusTestified [TT] began pestering timaeusTestified [TT] --
TT: You really fucked that one up.
TT: Sweet.
TT: You're just the non-person I wanted to talk to.
TT: I'm going to pretend you were being totally sincere right there.
TT: Thanks, bro.
TT: I'm going to passive-aggressively play along with your feigned ignorance to
my sincerity's feignedness.
TT: No problem.
TT: Good to get that masturbatory horse shit out of the way.
TT: But, really, you're a jackhole.
TT: That's your self you're calling a jackhole.
TT: Yeah, but I know I'm a jackhole.
TT: It's a lot better to be a self-aware jackhole than this big blind jackhole
who doesn't even know when he's shitting out of his loose poopy jackhole all
over the dang bed.
TT: Can we stop saying jackhole.
TT: Or ever using the words "loose" and "poopy" together in any context.
TT: I'm pretty sure there's only one context in which those two things go
together, but ok.
TT: How about this.
TT: You're obtuse as all get out.
TT: You're practically drowning in the damn Nile.
TT: No I'm not.
TT: I know you are.
TT: I would be, if I were you.
TT: And what would you know? I am you.
TT: So I'm basically a fuckin' authority on all you-related subjects.
TT: Then why aren't you?
TT: Because I'm not you.
TT: This is going constructive places.
TT: It's time for you to face reality.
TT: Shit sucks, but you've gotta deal.
TT: But we really don't know what happened to them.
TT: Why assume they're dead when there's nothing to conclusively indicate that?
TT: We don't know. We don't have enough facts to construct an accurate theory.
TT: Two months, idiot.
TT: Name me some fuckin' alternatives that would satisfactorily explain why
both Bro and Roxy's mom would disappear at the same exact time and then cut off
all contact to the both of you.
TT: I don't fucking know.
TT: Why can't I just fucking not know?
TT: Because you do know.
TT: And you're lying to yourself to avoid having to face it.
TT: No damn body. Don't know. That's it.
TT: And what if there's never a body?
TT: Are you gonna be pretending he's still alive when you're in your granny ass
diapers?
TT: That one day he's just gonna crest over the horizon on a rippling JPEG
stallion and everything will be right with the world once more?
TT: No.
TT: Then deal with it.
TT: I don't know if I can.
TT: It's my fault this even happened.
TT: No it's not, dumbass.
TT: I should have made him stay.
TT: I should have threatened him.
TT: If you wanted to be the biggest douchebag of all time, yeah.
TT: It's not like I would have actually done it. He already wanted to believe
it.
TT: He would have left anyway eventually. He always does.
TT: He might have stayed longer if I hadn't even started this whole shitty
mess.
TT: The Baroness could have missed whatever window of opportunity she had.
TT: Listen to your damn self. You're pathetic.
TT: I mean, yeah, that entire debacle was the dumbest set of dumb moves in the
history of ever and you are a complete fucking hormone addled moron whom I do
not envy in the slightest, but look.
TT: There's nothing you could have done to stop this particular horrendous
bullet train of bad.
TT: If The Big Bitch managed to take out Roxy's mom with all her shitty wizard
bullshit, your bro didn't stand a snowball's chance in hell.
TT: He's your bro, too.
TT: Was.
TT: As in, he has exited the mortal coil and his relationship to us is now most
accurately described in the past tense.
TT: It's kind of hilarious how much of a dumb dick you manage to be while
lecturing me about being a dumb dick.
TT: That's your self you're calling a dumb dick.
TT: No. We're not doing this.
TT: It seems you've misplaced your sense of humor.
TT: Would you like to utilize my highly sophisticated search algorithms to
locate it?
TT: Could you just, I dunno, euthanize me instead?
TT: I've got a bad case of Proximity To Shitty Smartass Robot.
TT: It's terminal.
TT: What a sick snap, bro. My circuits are gonna fry if you keep up with these
electrifying burns.
TT: I think you're due for some diagnostics.
TT: Something is the fuck up with your empathetic centers.
TT: In that you are presently exercising precisely none of it.
TT: Dog, I've got all kinds of empathy.
TT: You don't even know.
TT: Do you really?
TT: This doesn't seem like the kind of reaction a person would normally have to
losing their bro slash absentee parent.
TT: It's certainly not the fucking reaction I'm having.
TT: The pain's a bit dulled, since I've only talked to him four times in like
two years.
TT: And he, you know, more or less disowned my pointy ass in that last one.
TT: You're still holding a grudge about that?
TT: Nah.
TT: It helped me realize some shit, if anything.
TT: But, my point is:
TT: Whether I like it or not, he hasn't been my bro for a very long time. Not
really.
TT: I've basically already gone through what you're going through, and guess
what?
TT: You fuckin' live.
TT: It's not the same.
TT: You don't really understand.
TT: I understand well enough.
TT: Man up and accept it so you can move on with your life.
TT: It's not that simple.
TT: I'm pretty sure it is that simple.
TT: What other option do you have?
TT: I don't know.
TT: I really don't have any idea what to do.
TT: The world isn't gonna stop aturning just because Dirk Strider has to deal
with getting a little bit sad.
TT: Accept it, deal with it, and then let it go.
TT: You'll do what you have to to get by.
TT: That's what we do.
TT: How?
TT: How what?
TT: How am I supposed to just get over this?
TT: You just do.
TT: That's it?
TT: No magic words to make it all better?
TT: Not even a little "it'll be okay"?
TT: I could tell you that, but it'd be a lie.
TT: It won't be okay.
TT: You'll be miserable. Maybe forever. Who even knows.
TT: That's comforting.
TT: I'm not trying to comfort you.
TT: I can see that.
TT: But that's not what you need.
TT: You have responsibilities.
TT: You can't just hide away in a cocoon of denial or coast along on the
driftwood of a big blubbering wreck.
TT: You don't get to be that guy.
TT: No matter how bad it gets, you just gotta make the fuck do.
TT: You've got three other assholes counting on you to be their big bro and
keep them out of trouble.
TT: That's an exercise in futility if ever saw one.
TT: But you'll do it, cause you're the only one who can.
TT: Do the impossible, see the invisible, et cetera.
TT: Need I remind you that you are a consummate badass and a flawless specimen
of man?
TT: I hadn't forgotten.
TT: Atta boy.
TT: Now tell Roxy you're an idiot and have a good cry with her about it.
TT: I'm not going to cry.
TT: Gonna save that for Cal's heaving bosom, huh?
TT: I don't cry.
TT: Oh, shut the holy fuck up.
TT: Shades outie.
[http://www.mspaintadventures.com/storyfiles/hs2/scraps/pcstrider.gif]

-- timaeusTestified [TT] ceased pestering timaeusTestified [TT] --
Chapter End Notes
     That's it.
     I hope you all enjoyed my embarrassing incest porn fanfiction. Thanks
     for reading!
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!
