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Bro had never been exactly... comfortable with the idea of incest, especially not with his baby bro. Normally he wouldn't let such stupid things as morality or societal expectations get in the way of something he wanted, but there was something to be said about the hurdle that was the huge taboo of incest, especially with the kid he'd raised from infancy. Sure, they hadn't had the most typical guardian/charge relationship, and yeah, Dave had eventually got him to mostly get over the guilt and shame of it, but that didn't mean he thought about it. It certainly didn't mean he relished the taboo center of their twisted relationship. Bro just tried to think of Dave as the cool, sometimes disgustingly dorky kid he lived with and occasionally fucked. It was simple, and a frame of mind that didn't leave him hyperventilating and avoiding Dave like the plague. Sometimes, though, his fragile illusion was shattered, and he was forced to remember that, yeah, Dave was his weird bro/kid, and yeah, he was the worst god damn guardian on the face of the planet because he was having sex with him.
The first time Dave called him Daddy was one of those illusion shattering moments.
They had been going at it on the floor of the living room, inches from the futon- Dave's idea of irony; kid had a long way to go- when among the stream of "oh fuck yes please god" constantly emitting from Dave's mouth (he couldn't ever shut up. It was a problem that Bro would have weaned him from years ago if he didn't like it so much. God damn but he was sentimental sometimes), a single "Daddy" had slipped out and made both of them stop cold.
Dave's eyes had widened immediately and he'd tripped over his words trying to take it back, but Bro had shut down, had just silently disentangled from his little brother and flashstepped to his room.
And that's where he stands now, having a complete mental breakdown behind his poker face, willing composure upon himself even as he falls apart inside.
It was bad enough he was fucking his little brother.
It was somehow infinitely worse that his bro apparently wanted to up the incest ante to the max.
How terribly did Bro raise him if he was into that kinda kinky shit?
Bro had thought he was over all this guilt, at least enough to function around Dave normally. Now though... Now he is hiding in his room and avoiding Dave just like when this messed up, kind-of-relationship had all started.
The first time Dave had made a move on him was on his eighteenth birthday, as though waiting till he was legal was all that important when the goal was incest anyway. Bro had been ironically ignoring him all day, pretending he didn't remember it was his birthday and that he didn't have a totally bitchin' present for him that he'd toss at Dave's face nonchalantly at 11:59 that night. Typical Strider behavior.
Something was different in the way Dave was acting, though. He was overcompensating for something, acting normal in a forced way, but Bro couldn't tell exactly what he was hiding behind his cool kid veneer.
Every time Bro moved into Dave's line of vision- even if he was walking at a normal speed, not even sneaking up on the kid- Dave would tense. Not enough to be noticeable to the untrained eye of course, but Bro was used to watching his little brother for tells, and there was definitely something going on with Dave. It wasn't until the end of the day that he finally figured out what was bothering him.
Dave had walked into the living room, where Bro was sprawled on the futon watching some shitty show on some shitty channel. He didn't seem to notice him, so Bro threw out a disaffected "hey" without looking up from the tv.
Another microscopic flicker of tenseness before Dave replied with a "sup" and came around to perch on the edge of the futon, right next to Bro. Closer than he'd dared to get all day, to be sure, but far enough that Bro didn't suspect anything totally unusual.
"Hey Bro," Dave ventured, and when he fell silent Bro looked up from the tv with an eyebrow raised over his shades.
"So, like, I'm eighteen now, right?"
Bro waited a few seconds for him to continue, but it soon became clear he wasn't going to. "Yeah little man, guess you're legal now. Got any plans?" He smirked, but Dave didn't seem amused. He actually seemed kind of... nervous. Or as nervous as a Strider can look. Holy shit, did his baby bro actually have a date with some hot older chick or dude? The thought made Bro smirk even harder. His little kid was all grown up and gettin' it on with strangers. The apple didn't fall far from the tree, he supposed.
Dave was still staring at him, tense as all get out now. His poker face was slipping, hard, and he swallowed visibly. "Um," was all he could apparently say.
"Hey, what's up dude? Ya know I don't give a fuck what you do, as long as you're safe an shit."
Dave wouldn't look at him, and Bro started to get a little worried. Had he not been safe? Shit, what if he had AIDS? Fuck, Bro was not prepared for this.
All those thoughts went completely out of his mind when his little brother started kissing him.
For once, something Dave did actually managed to surprise him. Bro would have been proud if he wasn't freaking out so much.
Dave pulled back when he finally realised Bro wasn't moving, wasn't going to respond in any way. His face was bright red and he immediately stood to abscond, but Bro grabbed the back of his t shirt before he could take more than two steps toward his room. "Dave," Bro began, in the blankest tone he could manage as he panicked internally, "What the fuck was that."
Dave didn't reply, so Bro yanked on his shirt to rattle him into response.
After a few tense moments, Dave let out a small, mocking laugh. "Nothin', Bro. Just a joke." Bro could tell he was upset, that his words were false. He let him go anyway.
That night Dave stayed in his room and Bro stayed in his, losing himself in his puppets and only emerging once to flash into Dave's room, throw the present at him, and flash the fuck out, faster than he had ever done before. He didn't want to think, he didn't want to face his brother, and he really didn't want to contemplate that kiss or what it meant.
He especially wasn't going near the thought that maybe he liked it.
Maybe he was hot for his little kid brother, who he had raised from infancy.
He worked on his puppets until the he passed the fuck out from exhaustion, and he didn't dream. Even if he did, it would not have been about Dave, or about how soft his lips were when they were briefly on his.
The next day Dave stayed in his room, and the day after that too. Bro started to grow concerned, because seriously, was the kid peeing in a bottle or something? Jesus.
He decided this avoidance thing had to stop, so he flashed into Dave's room and flashed out with him in hand, dumping him on his ass in the kitchen and standing over him with his arms crossed and face blank.
"What the fuck, Bro?!" Dave sputtered from the floor, scrambling up. Bro just spoke over his protests.
"Alright dude, what the hell's going on." As if he didn't already know.
"Nothing is going on, jesus, can't a guy spend some time alone in his room? For fuck's sake, invasion of privacy much?" Dave looked angry and put upon, poker face completely gone, but Bro guessed him being angry was better than him moping.
"What're you doin' in there? You really need two days to jack off?" The joke fell really flat in the tense atmosphere, and Dave just glared harder.
"Fuck off and get out of the way. I'm not in the mood." Dave tried to push past his guardian, but he refused to budge.
"Alright," Bro sighed and pinched his nose, "We're talking about this. Fuckin' hell Dave. What was really up with that kiss?" Dave just looked down.
"I thought Striders didn't talk about feelings," Dave mumbled bitterly.
"Well they fuckin' do when one of them is hiding out in their room after kissing their brother. Special circumstances man." Jesus fuck but Bro was uncomfortable and he wanted to abscond the fuck outta there and just let the kid mope while he very carefully didn't think any of the guilt ridden thoughts of "this is my fault" and "fuck why did I like that," but he couldn't exactly back off now. Striders don't show weakness, even when the possibility of incest comes up.
Fuck, was that really what they were discussing now?
When Dave wouldn't respond, wouldn't even look at him, Bro took it as a sign that the kiss had meant something, as if that hadn’t already been obvious enough. No irony, not even fake, was beneath it.
"Shit kid, you realize how illegal that is right?" Bro took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair and tried very hard not to think about his own feelings on the matter, or the horrible black hole of guilt that was eating at him from deep within his stomach because of them. It was wrong, and it couldn't happen, and that was the end of it.
"My entire upbringing was illegal, you asshole. If CPS had even stepped a foot in the door you'd be in jail and I'd be with some lame fuckers who play checkers or some shit." Leaning against the counter, arms crossed and looking away from Bro, Dave exuded the perfect air of vaguely angry nonchalance. Bro wasn't fooled at all.
"Not this kind of fucked up illegal."
"Whatever."
They were silent for some time. Bro was fine with it. He could hold out against silence, was comfortable with it. Dave wasn't. He couldn't go two minutes without speaking, so Bro just waited until he cracked. It didn't take long.
"I mean what's the big deal. You fucking fight me. With swords. How the fuck is that even allowed? You've kicked my ass and made my entire fucking life a big game and this is where you draw the line? Fucking weak bro. Weak and lame and stupid as fuck and just, fucking..." Dave paused and Bro stepped in before he could continue.
"Dave. Are you serious?" He just looked back at him. Stared behind his shades in defiance.
"Fuck you," he mumbled, and, fast as lightning, kissed his older brother a second time.
Fuck, but Dave surprised Bro again, and he really needed to step up his game because he responded to that kiss briefly before he caught himself and flashed the fuck out of there in the least cool way possible.
Bro heard Dave slowly shuffle from the kitchen to the hall, stopping for a moment outside of Bro's door before thinking better of it and returning to his room. Bro waited until he heard his brother's- his kid's- door click softly closed before letting out his breath. Fuck. Fuck.
What kind of shit guardian was he? Had he seriously just kissed his little bro back? Fuck, but he couldn't do this. He couldn't, or he'd break, and once he did he was so sure there would be no fixing it or putting himself back together like he had so many times before. He was supposed to be the stoic hero figure Dave looked up to, not the dude he wanted to make out with.
He certainly was not supposed to want to make out with his little fuckin' brother right back.
Over the next week or so, Bro barely left his room. He only left when he knew Dave was asleep or lost in music, and even then it was only to grab something to eat or take a piss. He threw himself into his work, and tried very very hard not to think about his brother or the fact that he thought he was beautiful and wanted to feel his lips on his again and maybe run his hands through his soft blond hair and fuck. Stop, rewind, sew another smuppet, work till he dropped, rinse, repeat.
The second week of this tense avoidance rolled around, and Bro knew something had to change. Dave wasn't even going to school, and Bro could only say he was sick when the school secretary called for so long before truancy officers came knocking.
The next time Dave cautiously emerged from his room, Bro was sprawled on the futon, almost normal, staring at the tv and very carefully not thinking. (He had gotten really good at not thinking.) Dave froze when he saw his brother and tried to scurry back, but it was way too late and he knew it when Bro just blankly told him to "Get dressed. Now."
Dave expected the ass kicking to end all ass kickings, but when he re-emerged with an ironic t shirt and his shittiest pair of jeans his bro just winged his backpack at his head and told him to go to the car.
The car ride to Dave's school was short but tense as all hell. Dave stared out the window the whole time, and even if he had felt like talking, Bro had turned the radio up too loud to allow for any conversation.
When they finally pulled up to school, Dave all but threw himself out of the car, and Bro yelled a monotone, "Quit skippin' school kid. You're almost to winter break."
This routine continued for all of three days- Dave never quite getting to school on time and the car rides being the most uncomfortable things he'd ever experienced in his short life- before Dave finally snapped. He couldn't take it anymore, and he told Bro so during the fourth car ride after he turned that god awful music down to a level that allowed for fucking thinking.
"Just, fuck. I get it. I fucked up. You don't want this. Can we please just fucking go back to the way things were and pretend like this never happened?"
Bro just glanced at him with a raised eyebrow, and turned the music back up.
Dave turned it back down and glared.
Bro's mouth twitched down minutely, and when he reached over to the volume knob Dave slapped his hand away.
That's when things turned to shit.
Bro pulled into a not-so-nice looking alleyway and stopped the car. He took a deep, controlled breath, and turned to Dave with anger clearly visible on his face. He didn't fucking care about maintaining his image anymore; he didn't fucking care about anything because he wanted his little brother and Dave just kept bringing it up.
"Shit, Bro, listen, I didn't mean-" Dave held his hands up in reconciliation, starting to get scared because Bro was never angry, not at him, but what he did did nothing to stop his brother's explosion.
"You want me to fucking pretend nothing happened? You want me to just fucking pretend that my fucking little brother, who raised from infancy, didn't kiss me? Twice? You want me to pretend that you didn't fucking kiss me and that I didn't like it? How the FUCK am I supposed to do that?! I’m supposed to be the adult here, I am supposed to be looking out for you, not doing whatever the fuck this is!" By the end of this Bro was full on yelling between ragged gasps for breath, and he looked so fucking broken.
Dave was fucking terrified.
That had to be the most Bro had ever said to him at once outside of their epic rap battles, and he had never seen his brother show anywhere near that much emotion. Even the time he dislocated two ribs when Dave dared him to jump over the railing at the top of their apartment's stairs to the bottom, he had just grimaced a little and joked on the way to the hospital (which Dave had insisted he go to). This was different. Bro looked entirely wrecked.
Dave’s hero was cracking and shattering right in front of him, and it was all his fault.
Dave started to reach toward his brother, but when Bro slid his face into his hands and rested them against the steering wheel he thought better of it and let his hand drop into his lap with a light plop. "Bro... Are... Are you okay man?" He spoke quietly, but his words fell loudly in the car, where the only sound was Bro's way-too-fast breathing.
"Fuck," Bro's voice was barely a whisper, a slight exhalation from between his hands. "Fuck. No, Dave. No I am not."
This time, against his better judgement, Dave let his hand complete its mission and rest on his Bro's shoulder. Bro actually, full on flinched at his touch, but he didn't move away.
Fuck. Dave broke Bro. This wasn't what was supposed to happen with that kiss. This wasn't even close to what he had wanted.
"Bro, shit, I'm sorry, I didn't mean... I didn't want..." Dave trailed off. What could he even say?
"What do you want from me Dave." The question was spoken flatly and unexpectedly against the stifling silence, and Dave didn't know how to respond.
"I just. Want whatever you'll give me," he finally replied. He wanted everything from his bro, but shit, Dave would take whatever he got, even if that was just the ability to put his hand on Bro's shoulder without losing parts of it.
The elder Strider breathed out and scrubbed his hands on his face beneath his shades, then turned to Dave. "Why." He sounded so weak, ridiculously fragile and completely at odds with his large, muscular body.
"Shit man, I dunno. Because you're my Bro? Fuck wait that sounds really bad. Uh. I don't have some kind of incest kink or anything I swear I just. Like. You," he finished lamely. Damn but if Bro wasn’t gonna make fun of him for that. Ya know. Once they actually started acting normal again. If they started acting normal again.
Bro was looking at him like he was an idiot. Well, that was certainly more in character for him.
Dave really wanted to hug him, to hold him and comfort him and jesus, what was he, a girl? He bit his lip lightly and stared up at his Bro, unsure of where this was going to go. If Bro was already this messed up over the idea, what the fuck would he do with what he had just said? Probably whoop his ass then kick him out on the street. Or, even worse, cry like the look on his face suggested he wanted to. Dave didn't think he could handle that without breaking down right along side him.
Bro stared right back at him, his face slipping jaggedly back into his mask despite how red and kind of puffy it was as he turned his body toward Dave slowly. His arms opened in a silent invitation, and Dave took that invite and RSVPed the fuck out of it before Bro could change his mind. He wrapped his arms around his brother's waist and buried his face in his chest, soaking in the sensation before Bro inevitably pushed him away and reinstituted the strict "no girly shit" rule.
When his arms came up around Dave, he thought for sure that moment had come. But then, it didn't.
It slowly dawned on Dave that he was actually hugging his brother, for the first time since... probably when he was five.
And his brother was hugging him back.
A smile fought to break out across his face, but Dave held it back. No need to be super sappy.
The elder Strider rested his face in the younger's hair, and let out an oh-so-slightly shaky breath. "What the hell did I do to you, little man?"
At that, Dave pulled back and looked up at his brother. "Fuckin' nothin', you asshole."
And he softly touched his lips to his brother's for the third time, just the whisper of a kiss.
And Bro let him, because damn, when has he ever really been able to say no to the kid? Maybe Dave deserved, needed love, especially after his shitty upbringing. Maybe Bro liked being the one chosen to give it to him.
Maybe he liked being needed.
After that moment, things got easier, or at the very least less tense. Stuff started returning to normal in the Strider household, with the addition of occasional kisses and plenty of freakouts by Bro that very well might have been anxiety- and occasionally panic- attacks except for the fact that he was Bro Motherfuckin' Strider and Striders don't HAVE anxiety attacks.
Dave never seemed to have a problem with their relationship like Bro did, never seemed even a little bit hesitant at the idea of fucking around with his brother. Maybe he had made peace with his demons before he ever approached Bro, maybe his not-exactly-traditional upbringing made him less susceptible to societal taboos, maybe he just didn't fucking care, who knew. Dave just didn't seem to be affected by the sheer feeling of wrongness that hit Bro so hard. Then again, Dave was used to being strange; he was raised to embrace it, to revel in it. Bro hadn't had that privilege. He was told all his life that he was a freak, that he should hide himself from the world to keep from being lynched- and that was for shit that was tame compared to this. He had learned to ostracize himself before others could do so for him, and had it beat into him that certain things were wrong and unacceptable. He had fought back against that upbringing the moment he was away from it- mostly by having sex with random guys, honestly- but shit like that was persistent. It stuck with him, and hell, incest was as wrong as it came, for good reason. It was a big thing to have to get over, but he wanted to. He was a terrible person, a terrible guardian for wanting to do so, but he did, for both his own selfish reasons and the fact that Dave wanted it. So he worked on it. And it got easier.
In a few months, the freakouts and week long, self imposed ostracization had mostly stopped. Bro got to the point where he wasn't consciously feeling guilty about it most of the time, even though he never stopped blaming himself for Dave's wanting this in the first place, and the brothers started getting more intimate. Dave had no fucking idea what he was doing, but Bro wasn't too hard on him for it.
Okay, he made fun of him a lot. But it was in a teasing way, and he always made sure he was comfortable. Things were great for another couple of months. Dave graduated high school, started figuring out college shit.
Then Dave called him daddy.
And that's where they are now. Bro leaning against his door, having one of those freakouts that definitely isn't a panic attack because he only feels like he can't breathe, god damn it, it doesn’t count, isn’t even a real issue; and Dave pacing in his room, cursing himself and his stupid, stupid boner for liking shit even MORE taboo than what his relationship with his brother already entailed.
All that guilt, all that shame, everything came right on back to Bro and hit him straight up, like a freight train smashing into a cow and spraying guts everywhere.
The fact that thinking about Dave crying out that word made him feel both ashamed and vaguely aroused isn't helping his delicate mental state. (Fuck, how far had he fallen, if his mental state can now be called "delicate?")
Bro knows he's fucked up in the head, has always known. His emotions never have made sense, he’s raised his kid brother like he was training a fucking assassin rather than rearing a little kid, and he always avoided human contact at all costs- and those were just some of the lesser problems he had going on.
He didn't want Dave to grow up fucked up like he was. He tried his hardest, in his own way, to keep that from happening.
He knew it hadn’t exactly worked when it became clear that Dave wanted him.
Now, though, he knows it with the kind of clarity that makes him want to shut down and go on working binges.
So he does.
Bro and Dave don’t see each other for a while. Things are just as tense as they were those first few weeks after Dave’s eighteenth birthday, though this time Dave wants to see Bro. He wants to reconcile and maybe even talk about this, because honestly, it doesn’t have to be a federal fucking issue. But every time he makes his way over to his brother’s room, he can’t find it in himself to knock. Can’t even speak a word through the door.
So the avoidance continues, and Bro gets a lot of work done. He knows this can’t keep happening, he can’t keep running away from their issues and stop thinking when it all becomes too much. He’s supposed to be an adult; he’s supposed to be watching out for the kid. But that line of thought leads right back around to the source of the problem, and he’s never been what most would deem responsible. It’s so much easier to just let his brain shut down and his body take over. He falls into his age -old pattern of work for three days straight, sleep for one, flip tape to side b, press play.
Dave gets worried when he starts noticing the pattern, gets even more worried when he realizes that almost no food is disappearing besides what he himself eats, even though his brother certainly hasn’t left the house in a week and definitely doesn't keep anything edible in his room. He's worried enough to walk to Bro’s door and knock. Not worried enough to open it and step inside when there’s no answer.
There’s an unwritten Strider law that you don’t step into Bro’s room without consequences, and though he aches, Dave can’t bring himself to break it. (It feels as though that would somehow be admitting defeat, as though time has gone backwards to when Dave was just a snotty preteen and their every interaction was still a competition.)
Finally, after two and a half weeks of idiocy and ill treatment, Bro’s body begins to really protest, and he knows it’s time to stop being a little bitch and think shit through before his meatsuit finally mimics his mind and falls to pieces. He leaves his room for the first time in a while (and to think he had once made fun of Dave’s moping, wondered if he had been pissing in a bottle) and takes a shower while Dave is asleep.
(Bro’s not sure what time it is. Time tends to stop having any meaning around the third day of mental anguish and avoidance.)
He stands under the stream for a long time, until the hot water is all but a memory of better days and he’s shivering. Bro thinks. He finally, fully lets himself fall apart under the water, and begins to piece himself back together.
Yes, he is having sex with his brother, his charge, the kid he’s raised from infancy. His meteor baby.
Yes, he likes it, and yes, Dave is as fucked up as he is in that respect.
But Dave is also so much better than him in so many ways, and maybe Bro can forgive himself this one mistake, big though it is.
He thinks he can let himself go back to loving his brother, because although he knows it’s so wrong, he also knows they both think it’s right.
And who the fuck can argue with that?
(He pushes down the voice in his mind that whispers an endless litany of all of those who can and would, given the chance. He pardons off the area and stuffs that voice in a box set for incineration, and he leaves it to die.)
(He knows it will, without a doubt, be resurrected one day soon to prey upon him again.)
Bro finally gets out of the shower, water gone ice cold long ago and skin wrinkly as all fuck, and he dresses.
He goes out to the kitchen, sits down, and really eats for the first time in a while. He can’t remember how long exactly.
He’s no longer afraid of seeing Dave again (he is afraid, but Striders don’t show weakness. Can’t show weakness), so he doesn’t flash back to his room like he kind of wants to when he hears his kid brother’s bedroom door creak open.
He doesn’t move a bit as he hears the cautious swish swish of socks across the hard floor, and he doesn’t flinch when Dave pokes his head into the dull light of the kitchen. Bro just looks up and keeps on chewing his cereal.
“Hey,” Dave ventures after a moment, voice quiet and questioning as if Bro's a horse he's afraid to spook. Bro supposes his caution is understandable, given the events- or lack thereof- of the past few weeks.
“Sup,” Bro’s voice is blank, neutral as it’s ever been. Dave visibly relaxes, his shoulders falling into a more neutral position as he takes a few more slow steps into the room.
As he realizes Bro isn’t about to bolt, Dave grows more confident, and finally sits at the chair across from him. “What’s up?”
“Apple jacks,” Bro mumbles around a mouthful of said delicious confection, and it’s like a spell is broken. The tenseness in the room evaporates and Dave gives his brother a small smile.
“Give me some.”
“Get your own god damn bowl, jesus.” Though he growls, Bro can’t help the slight upturn of his lips.
“Fine, fuck, worst brother ever,” Dave mumbles while getting up, then freezes and stares at Bro with a hilariously accurate impression of a deer in headlights. He knows he fucked up, shouldn’t have said something like that so soon after such a huge freakout (he'd learned that after the first few slip ups), but Bro just lets the callously chosen words wash over him and smirks.
“Not what you were saying last time I had you under me, little man.”
“Jesus, Bro,” Dave lets out a huff of a laugh in shock, and stands. He walks behind his brother to get a bowl, but aborts that mission halfway through and instead wraps his arms around Bro’s neck from behind. “Are we good?” He has to check. He can’t make his brother uncomfortable, but he can’t keep walking on eggshells either. This shit is getting worked out, and it’s happening now.
Bro doesn’t say anything, but Dave recognizes the yes in the soft kiss he sets on his mouth, recognizes the apology in the unusual sweetness. He responds with the same sweetness, an apology of his own that says both “I’m sorry for doing this to you” and “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” They don’t need to say it aloud.
They get it.
That night they sleep curled together on the neutral territory of the futon, doing nothing but existing together and trading unhurried kisses that go nowhere.
They’re happy for the first time in weeks, and they don’t let anything break that, especially not reality.
They both know this won’t work in the long run. Something mundane will happen or they’ll be found out or one of them will simply lose interest, and things will grow awkward at best, turbulent at worst. They both know this isn't healthy either, Bro much more so than Dave. Bro knows the damage he's doing to himself, knows that with each breakdown and subsequent cordoning off of his mind he has less and less space to maneuver, but he can't stop. Dave wants it, needs it, and Bro is slowly realizing that, though it ruins him so completely, he might just need to feel wanted and loved too.
Despite it all, or more likely because of it, they take the time they have and cherish it while they can- though they never say that’s what they’re doing, because, honestly. They’re Striders, not Egberts.