
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/842075.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Homestuck, MS_Paint_Adventures
  Relationship:
      Dave_Strider/Dirk_Strider
  Character:
      Dave_Strider, Dirk_Strider, assorted_hs_universe_characters
  Additional Tags:
      tw:_second_person, Alpha/Beta, Sibling_Incest, Eventual_Porn
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-06-14 Chapters: 2/? Words: 1469
****** we could be an accident ******
by bluesy
Summary
     He's your brother, Dave. Your brother.
     post sburb outcome non-specific au in which the striders live
     together.
     multiple perspectives in later chapters. shameless self-indulgent
     angsty porn written in second person.
     does not end happy.
Notes
     the chapters get longer/better, i promise.
***** Chapter 1 *****
You've been living with Dirk for almost three months, and you're still not sure
what you think of him.
Dirk is a good housemate – he keeps to himself for the most part, showers twice
a day at least and cleans up after himself. He challenges you to sword fights
you almost always lose at least once a week and it's good. It brings you back
home and you miss Bro a little less every day. There's no shame in losing with
Dirk. You're allowed to improve and he isn't afraid to tell you when you have.
Dirk doesn't like himself very much. It takes you a while to see it but it's
there, just beneath the surface, evident in the way he slashes his shitty
swords at thin air until he's limp and taking heaving breaths and in the way he
smokes four packs a day and the way his eyes hollow out when he thinks you
aren't looking, like he's barely there, like whatever spark he had in his life
is gone, like it left a long time ago and he can't figure out how to get it
back.
Dirk is all angles. He reminds you of the other him, with the sharp jaw and
collarbones that could kill and eyes that might as well be looking right into
you. You don't like it when Dirk takes his glasses off, when you can see the
intensity of the amber of his eyes, the same intensity that took you off guard
during those rooftop excursions with your brother. Your other brother.
You only notice on those occasions when he saunters from the bathroom down the
hallway, towel hung loose around his waist, momentarily liberated from his
glasses and his dumb hair. He was only concerned with privacy for the first few
weeks; after that his image seemed to dissolve in front of you, faded away as
the boundary lines did.
Every time he pads into the kitchen with that towel and his sopping hair and
shoulder blades and freckles dotting down to the small of his back that might
as well match yours you try not to look. You try to avert your eyes and tell
yourself that he's your brother, and even if that isn't technically true all
you can see is your brother standing in your kitchen and drinking your apple
juice out of the bottle. You just can't help the way your eyes fall on the lean
muscle of his torso, the light dimples where his towel begins to slip.
He's your brother, Dave. Your brother.
***** Chapter 2 *****
Chapter Summary
     dirk breaks down more boundaries. so does dave.
Chapter Notes
     will there be porn??
     spoiler alert: no
     tw for anxiety/panic disorders in this and the coming chapters.
Jade is giving you a hug goodbye at the door and Dirk is pretending not to be
watching from the kitchen. You can practically feel his eyes on you, intense as
ever, and you're on your guard. Jade ruffles your hair and waves and disappears
and you're left in that cloud of Jade-was-just-here confusion that she always
leaves behind. She has a thing for you, Dirk likes to remind you, but he keeps
his mouth shut this time. He smokes. He taps the ashes to the floor. Dirk is
clean in every other sense of the word but this is one of those things he does.
The ashtray is on the counter right next to him, but he still flicks them to
the ground, almost like he knows it's going to drive you insane.
For a moment you're locked in this stare with him and you wish you had the guts
to say what you want to, but you're not good with feelings. He is, sometimes,
but you're a different brand of Strider.
He backs his ass against the counter and slides up onto the edge. He says “I'll
give it a week before you and Jade are together.” And there's a knot in your
stomach because you don't want that. She's a friend the same way Rose is and
the person you want is sitting ten feet away from you with a cigarette in his
mouth. He won't drop the girlfriend thing, like he's baffled by the fact that
you aren't getting any, like he feels guilty about having regular sex while
you're alone in your room mixing tracks or watching bad movies with John. He
asks about John once and you flush because he's your best friend and you never
even considered anything outside of friendship and neither of you are gay, you
think, despite John's raging man-crush on Matthew Mcconaughey and your own
blooming crush on your own brother.
Dirk is gay. Really, honestly, properly gay. He tells you one night about Jake,
about that whole mess, about how Jake avoided him and wouldn't speak to him for
what felt like a decade. He tells you that he never wants that again and you
don't know how to respond, especially because he still has Jake in his bedroom
at least once a week.
You've been trying not to think about everything, like the fact that Dirk's
hipbones haunt your dreams and that sometimes you can hear him moaning through
the walls and there's forever a part of you that wishes you were on the other
side with him.
---
One afternoon Dirk pads into the kitchen, fresh out of the shower with no towel
on, sopping wet and sans glasses and you almost choke. He snags an orange off
the counter, flashes a grin your way, and walks back down the hall, as if
there's nothing out of the ordinary. You shout after him, “What the ever living
fuck are you doing?” but the only response you get is the soft thud of a door
being closed behind him.
You get it, though – he becomes less constructed with every passing day but you
still retain everything from before – the mask of 'cool' and the glasses and
the air of casual disinterest you've always maintained. They won't leave you.
You're still a walking lie.
You wonder whether he can see through it. You wonder if that's why he's
breaking down these boundaries.
---
You're crouching low to the ground, behind an a/c unit, your breathing heavy
and your hands curled tightly around a sword handle. Fractions of a second
later, the air is filled with the sound of metal dashing off each other and
you're trying to tear into him and he's reacting with fluidity and ease which
only makes you wonder how the hell did he manage get this good at swordsmanship
with no one to practice with?
You make a mistake and take a half step in the wrong direction and he has you
against the wall in a second. You lock eyes with him through your shades. The
corner of his lips rise in amusement and all it would take is one movement
forward, just a few inches and you'd be touching him and probably injuring
yourself in the process, but before you can make any decisions, he's withdrawn,
swinging his sword in his hand with dexterity and calling back, “Better be more
careful next time, bro.”
You slash at the air.
You curse your delayed reaction.
You wish he'd stop teasing you, if that's even what he's doing.
---
Dirk crawls into bed with you on a Sunday night. His breath is shaky and he's
next to you but doesn't touch – you just feel the buckle of the bed and watch
as he curls in on himself. You pretend to be asleep and listen to his breathing
as it steadies against your mattress and this is just bizarre, isn't it?
He's been awake for hours since you went to bed, on the phone with someone. He
gets too loud and wakes you up but the following murmurs lull you back to
sleep. It's usually Jake, and the thought twists your stomach into a bitter
knot.
The two of you lay in silence for several minutes. You've peeled your eyes open
to watch him. His fists are balled in the sheets and his eyes are squeezed shut
but he's back to breathing normally. Finally, his eyes crack open and you make
eye contact and it takes him half a second to move to get out of your bed, but
you've been waiting for this – you catch him by the wrist and tug him close to
you, and your other finds its way around his neck as you drag him down.
You kiss him for the first time and it's like a grand event, lips brushing and
then tongues colliding, and lord, this feels like something you've been waiting
decades to do. His fingers wind momentarily into your hair and his mouth leaves
yours to trail a few light kisses down your neck and then he's gone, just like
that. The door shuts behind him and you're left to handle the twisted mess he's
left your psyche in.
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