Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/6101777.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage, Major_Character
      Death
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Homestuck
  Relationship:
      Bro/Dave_Strider
  Character:
      Dave_Strider, Bro_Strider, Lil_Cal
  Additional Tags:
      welcome_to_my_first_fic_guys, sorry_it_had_to_be_this_lmao, Violence,
      domestic_abuse, Swords, Strife_-_Freeform, dave_the_sad_little_muffin,
      Blood, scrape, Rape/Non-con_Elements, Attempted_Rape/Non-Con, Choking,
      Alcohol_Abuse/Alcoholism, Sadstuck, Terezi_Pyrope_implied, Abuse, SBURB
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-02-25 Completed: 2016-10-04 Chapters: 4/4 Words: 5141
****** A Not Fun Time™ ******
by StriderBabe
Summary
     Bro is a total asshole, but that isn't big news for Dave. But he
     never expected him to drop down to this level.
Notes
     Hey guys! I'm new to archiveofourown, so I thought I might as well
     start off with the saddest thing I could think of first. Dave is
     special to me, and yet, I must throw him in to the shittiest of
     situations /: Enjoy! Or don't ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
     Update (6/7/16): I've been really busy lately, but I'll try to add
     another chapter soon!
***** It Begins *****
It happened later in the night.
Dave would follow through with is regular routine before going to bed, which
didn’t really consist of doing much. He would finish whatever homework he had
collected throughout the school day, and depending on whether or not Bro
actually strifed him afterward, he’d would end up doing it later in the
evening. After that, he’d take a shower and crawl in to bed, his phone held
closely to his face as he talked to his friends or played a couple games before
dozing off.
Usually things would be tense between him and Bro after they strifed. Dave was
always on edge when he was around the older, but it was never the same as after
they battled it out on the roof. Bro always won, of course. He took off before
Dave could even get to his feet half of the time. They never spoke to one
another after a skirmish, and the rest of the night Dave would creep around the
apartment as if he was afraid the monster in the living room would spring at
him again.
But today was different. The young Strider got home from school, kicking his
shoes off and shedding his bag as he stepped into the kitchen. There was always
that underlying hope that there wouldn’t be a note on the fridge when he
checked, but every few days that hope was shot down when he read over the small
message.
bro. roof. now.
At least he wasn’t asking him to bring that stupid puppet. He wouldn’t have
doubted if Bro took Cal to the roof with him already. Dave stared at the letter
for a moment, all of the energy draining from his body was he scooped up a
katana that was laying nearby. Somebody really should pick up all of the
weapons around here before they got evicted. That somebody wasn’t going to be
him though.
Making it quick, the blonde hurried up to the roof. He didn’t want to keep Bro
waiting for too long, else he might blow this shit out of proportion. Not that
it hadn’t already been exaggerated to the point Dave didn’t even want to come
home anymore. These strifes every other day were wearing the poor kid down. It
was hard enough to keep up with school and sleep without having to worry about
Bro’s shenanigans. At least hiding the bruises and cuts from previous battles
were becoming easier for him.
When he finally stepped onto the concrete surface of the roof, Dave stopped in
the doorway, holding his katana at his side. On any other occasion, he probably
would have enjoyed watching the sunset. The different shades of red and orange
bled together and created a canvas along the horizon, the warm glow casting a
light over the tops of the buildings surrounding them. It made pretty sweet
conditions for being outside. It wasn’t too hot, but it wasn’t too cold. But
that was about the only thing he was grateful for when he had to come up onto
the roof.
It was silent. (Too silent.) He watched as the velvet in the sky painted his
signature red and white shirt the same radiant colors, the long shadow that was
cast behind him the dark, ashy color of the apartment building. The light
reflected off of his shades as he glanced around, his muscles tense with
anticipation. All of his times fighting on the roof never prepared him for when
Bro finally made the first strike.
He caught Bro’s shadow out of the corner of his eye just in time to turn and
block the blade swinging toward his chest. Determination quickly settled onto
his expression as he was caught on the defensive, blocking Bro’s katana with
his own as he tried to get some space between them. The only problem with that
is it left more room for the older to maneuver his sword in to unwanted places.
The once calm aura that the roof had filled with the sounds of metal against
metal, feet pattering against the concrete and the two brother’s trying to
catch their breaths as both struggled to get the upper hand. As the small
battle drew on, noises became more frequent. The small grunts off effort as
each of them batted each other’s blades away, the huffs and short breaths that
escaped their lips as they dodged sharp edges, the curses that passed
underneath the youngest Strider’s breath when Bro snickered quietly to himself.
It was only as the strife drew on that Dave noticed that something was
different. Usually Bro would make subtle shifts between defense and offense.
Whenever the older was sure that he could get a few moves in on him and most
likely win the battle, he would go for it. But Dave had been on the defense the
entire time, dodging close encounters with Bro’s blade and continuing to ward
off the other with his katana.
But it was no use. Bro kept coming and coming, not letting up for one second as
he assaulted Dave’s technique with his own. The younger could barely keep up
with him as his strength slowly depleted. Each swing of Bro’s sword against his
own sent a teeth-chattering ring through his already stiff muscles, the force
pushing him backwards until he was sure he’d eventually fall off of the roof.
Beads of sweat collected on his forehead, rolling down his neck and making his
shirt stick to the skin. He wanted this to stop, but he couldn’t let up, else
he’d get hurt. Whether it was by Bro’s sword or his fists.
It was one particular swing to his right side that threw Dave off. He shifted
to block it, already panting heavily as he kept a close eye on Bro’s blade,
when he left his entire body open for a split second. Bro took the opportunity
to rush him, hitting his katana to the side before using most of his body
weight to push against the younger. Dave toppled backwards with a gasp, wincing
as he landed against his side and scraped his elbow against the concrete. His
shades slid against the surface of the rooftop, the harsh clang of his katana
dropping against the grey ringing in his ears. He wasted no time recovering,
reaching for his sword in a flash. But Bro was faster. Before he could even
grab onto the hilt of the blade, Bro had the pointed tip placed dangerously
against Dave’s neck.
“Don’t even think about it, li’l man.”
The younger looked toward Bro as his southern drawl rang triumphantly through
the air, the sun’s dying rays illuminating his pointed shades. Dave locked eyes
with him for a moment, or tried to, a frown crossing his face as the tip of
Bro’s sword came uncomfortably close to his jugular.
“What’s with the long face?”
Dave hated the cockiness in his voice, but it wasn’t like he’d be able to do
anything about it. That didn’t mean that he wasn’t salty over the fact that Bro
didn’t cut him any slack throughout their entire strife.
“What the fuck was with that?” The younger questioned furiously, reaching up
and carefully batting Bro’s sword away. He climbed to his feet, hissing quietly
through his teeth as he examined his bloody elbow.
“Don’t get all sour ‘cause ya got yer ass kicked, kid.” Bro studied Dave
without much sentiment in his expression, an irritatingly indifferent tone
laced in his words as he brought his katana closer. “Maybe if ya actually
learned how to fight better, ya wouldn’t get yer ass handed to ya every time we
came up here.”
If being beaten for the hundredth time didn’t piss Dave off, than that sure
did. “Are you kidding me? You’re the one supposedly teaching me how to fight!!
But each time we come up here, all you do is step all over me like I’m your
fucking punching bag! Some great fucking teacher you are!”
That was when he realized he had stepped over the line. Bro’s face darkened,
his grip on his katana tightening as he glared at the younger Strider. Dave had
trouble holding Bro’s glare, his cherry colored irises wavering for a moment as
his shoulders sagged. The tense moment of silence drew on between them for what
seemed like years, and Dave contemplated dodging around Bro before he could
swing at him. But, to his surprise, Bro turned around, walking stiffly toward
the entrance to the apartment building before stepping inside, leaving Dave to
stand there stunned and full of regret as the sun finally finished its descent
in the sky.
***** Welcome to Hell™ *****
Chapter Summary
     Dave thought he'd be able to sleep for the night, but oh boy, was he
     wrong.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
When Dave finally came back inside, Bro was in the living room. He didn’t think
much of it. That was where he usually found the older; cans of beer or whatever
inexpensive alcohol he could afford placed around him. Dave wasn’t going to
bother him. He felt gross, and he just wanted to rinse off and go to bed.
Luckily for him, his teachers hadn’t assigned any homework, so he didn’t have
to worry about doing it before he went to sleep.
Dave stepped in to the bathroom after putting his katana away, pulling his
shirt off and over his head before tossing it on the floor at his feet. He
examined his elbow once more, a sigh escaping him as he ran his fingers around
the new wound. It didn’t hurt much anymore, but he still had to take care of
it. Next thing to come off were his shades. He studied his flushed face in the
mirror for a moment, reaching up and rubbing at his heated cheeks as he stared
tiredly at his reflection. The shower would help him cool off, or so he hoped.
The young Strider usually didn’t spend a lot of time in the shower, but that
night was different. His elbow stung a little as the hot water beat against it,
but the pain slowly subsided into a dull ache as he began to clean up a bit.
Soap suds washed down the drain as he listened to the water beat against his
skin and the tiles of the shower walls. For the most part he just stood there,
taking in the sound and the feeling of the water, letting it soothe him and
help him relax. It was a nice way to wind down after a strife.
By the time he was out with a towel around his waist and his things in hand, it
was getting pretty late. He stepped into his room, tossing the clothes in a
pile and setting the rest of his belongings on his desk. The only thing he wore
to bed was a pair of boxers. If he ever did end up wearing anything else to
bed, Dave would end up taking it off by the end of the night anyways.
He tried not to let his elbow touch the mattress as he climbed under the
covers, letting out a soft sigh and tucking his pillow beneath his head. The
sound of Bro setting his beer on the couch table every so often or flipping
through channels on the TV are what lulled him to sleep, and soon enough the
mixture of the day’s events and his overall exhaustion caused the young Strider
to drift into the dream world.
But his dream was rudely interrupted.
It took him a moment to comprehend what was happening. He was on the thin line
between the waking world and his sanctuary of sleep, realizing that his bed was
sinking in one place but unable to explain why, trying to figure out if the
hands on his wait were his own but confused as to why they were so big. Why did
it smell so strongly of alcohol and sweat, and why did his elbow hurt so much?
But as his grip on consciousness became stronger, the pieces started falling
into place, his eyes flying open as he tried to sit up, only to be met with
Bro’s hand on his chest to weigh him down.
“Make this easier for the both of us.” Dread washed over the younger, surprised
he was able to hear his brother over the blood pounding in his ears. Even with
the underlying warning in Bro’s words, Dave struggled against his weight,
trying to kick Bro out from between his legs and wrapping his hands around his
arm in an attempt to pry him off. But Bro was having none of it.
In a flash, the older’s fingers were wrapped around Dave’s throat, fear
flashing through his eyes as Bro leaned in closely to his face. He let Dave
struggle for air for a few moments, letting him thrash and listening to the
small, choked noises that escaped him, taking pleasure in the control he had
over the smaller boy. It was only when his struggles were beginning to die down
a bit that he spoke, his voice low and commanding, and to Dave, unforgettable.
“Don’t.”
It was only one word, but it painted the picture for Dave. He gasped, air
filling his lungs as Bro finally let go of his throat. It burned, and he
coughed a bit, his breathing reduced to quick, short breaths as he felt hands
on his waist once more. The boy’s eyes were already watering from the battle to
get air in his lungs, his face radiating heat as he looked at his brother.
“P-Please don’t.” He sounded weak, his voice scratchy as he pleaded. But Bro
didn’t seem to be paying any attention to him. Or to the parts of himself that
he would’ve preferred he pay attention to.
Dave’s entire body went rigid as the older ran his hands along his sides,
realizing that his gloves were off for what seemed like the first time in ages.
He shifted, obviously uncomfortable with the way Bro’s fingers brushed against
his sides, traveling down to tug at the elastic of his boxers.
“I ain’t gonna hurt you.” Bro said this slowly, pulling the only article of
clothing off of the younger and enjoying the way they just seemed to glide down
his thighs. Once they were off, he tossed them onto the floor, glancing at
Dave. He looked away once he met his honey colored eyes. “Unless ya want it to,
that is.”
Dave felt like he was going to be sick, his stomach churning and his muscles
wound tight. He couldn’t even look at Bro, knowing that all he would find would
be that predatory look in his eyes. His words only made the entire situation
worse, but he couldn’t do anything unless he wanted to get hurt, and Bro had
already given him an example of what he was willing to do to him.
Dave jumped when he suddenly felt Bro’s hand at the base of his member,
reaching up and covering his face as tears slid down his cheeks. He didn’t want
to be exposed like this, or touched like this, and he absolutely hated the way
his body responded to the way he stroked his fingers along his shaft. Every one
of his nerves were on end as his attention was drawn to Bro’s hand, knowing
that the other would be able to feel the way he was growing harder just by his
touch.
A very soft noise slipped past his lips as the pad of his thumb ran over the
head of his cock, his entire being freezing up. His body and his mind were at
war, arguing with each other over whether he should enjoy the sensation of the
older’s hand, get lost in his light touches and relax a bit, or scream and
fight his way out of this, because nothing was worse than letting Bro have his
way with him. He didn’t want Bro to get the wrong idea, even if his conflicting
emotions presented themselves to the other on a silver platter. There was no
way he could ever enjoy this. But he didn’t think Bro would care regardless of
the way he felt.
“Ya like this, don’t you Dave?” The younger tried to block out his words,
choking down a sob as he felt Bro move closer. “Take yer hands off yer face,
boy.” Dave did what he was told, lowering his hands but still looking off to
the side. The older’s next action was so chaste compared to everything else he
was putting him through. He didn’t expect Bro’s lips to press to the sensitive
skin of his neck, for him to kiss the same place that his fingers were wrapped
around only a few minutes before, and it was so unexpected that he gasped,
causing the sobs caught in his throat to finally spill out of his mouth.
Bro pulled away when Dave began to cry, and it wasn’t a pretty sight. He hadn’t
seen the kid cry like this ever since he was a toddler, and it was obvious that
he didn’t know how to deal with it. He sat back, watching Dave break down,
realizing how small he was compared to him, how weak and broken he looked
beneath him.
What was he doing?
Without a word, he pulled away from Dave, getting to his feet and stepping
toward Dave’s door. He left the younger, sobbing and naked in his bed, and
utterly confused about his brother’s intentions. But when he calmed down a bit,
he realized Bro wasn’t going to mess with him anymore.
He rolled onto his side, letting his cries die down into a somber silence. He
didn’t understand why this happened to him, his brain going a million miles per
hour with explanations and reasons and ways he could try to sort out the way he
was feeling. Dave wouldn’t get any sleep for the rest of the night.
Chapter End Notes
     What will happen next? WHo knoWs.
***** Don't Think *****
Chapter Summary
     Dave has a lot of pent up emotion, and so does Bro. How long can a
     couple of Striders go before their façade fails?
Chapter Notes
     Here's another chapter. I'm not sure when I'll be able to update this
     again, but it should be soon!
Have you ever heard of a game called Sburb?
It's horrible, don't play it.
Dave and his friends obviously didn't get the memo though. But they were on a
path of destiny that was beyond their wildest dreams. Who would have thought
that a bunch of silly, angsty teenagers would be able to become the gods of a
new universe? It would take a lot of isolation and bonding, traveling but
feeling like your destination was forever out of reach, and splinters. Lots and
lots of splinters. But it was always worth it in the end.
Dave had a lot more on his mind than the expansion of the void and everything
it held, though. It had been weeks since Bro had even tried to interact with
him, and vice versa. Even the rare moments when Bro would come out of his room
to watch TV and Dave so happened to be in the kitchen looking for something
edible were tense. Both of them felt like they were walking on eggshells, but
for different reasons.
The younger Strider knew that he could get Bro in trouble. But that was how it
always had been. He was afraid of the turn out, and didn't want to face the
consequences of turning Bro into authorities. He had grown up in a world where
getting thrown around wasn't anything to go running to the police for. Plus,
even if he did go to the cops for a few cuts and bruises, he didn't doubt for a
second that Bro would take a deadly swipe at him before they were separated.
That thought made the scrawny, aviator-wearing blonde feel... guilty.
He had heard countless times before that victims don't owe their abusers
anything. But he couldn't help but feel as though he owed Bro enough not to
throw him into the hands of the police. He was his guardian after all, and
although he did it in his totally cool and ironic way of not showing any
affection toward him once so ever, he knew it was there. It had to be.
Bro had to care about him in some way, shape, or form.
These thoughts kept the boy up at night, even when he knew that school was only
a few hours away. He couldn't help but think as to why Bro would touch him, but
turn around and leave as soon as he started sobbing. The older's motive was
almost as unclear as his emotions, and as the weeks drew on, it began fucking
with Dave. He didn't know if this was some tactic Bro was using to break him
down or the drunk shenanigans of a man obsessed with smuppets and porn AIs, but
he didn't think he could deal with this kind of torment. Bro had gone a lot
farther than tossing him around on the roof, and he knew that Bro understood
that.
Dave needed to get away in the case that Bro did decide trying to get in his
pants was a good idea again.
That's where Sburb came in. His copy was bound to get here soon, and if Bro
didn't tamper with his shit, which he was sure he wouldn't after the weeks of
silence that they had been enveloped in, Dave was home free. Literally.
It was only a couple days before his disc was supposed to arrive that Dave was
tossed into a whirling pit of despair. It all started when he came home from
school (yet another thing he'd thankfully be leaving behind). The young blonde
had taken a liking to coming back from an entire seven hours worth of craming
information into his brain and not having to worry about strifing Bro. It was
one of the only upsides to the situation he was in, but he had counted his eggs
before they had hatched.
The note was in the same place he had always found it. The piece of paper was
held onto the fridge with a ninja star, the metal around it dappled with holes
of previous weapons holding things into place. Dave stared at the piece of
paper, but he couldn't read it. Not that he had to, he already knew what it
said. He felt something constricting his breathing, keeping his lungs from
rising and falling as they normally did. His chest heaved with a struggling
breath, before it fell into a quick, unsteady rhythm. The walls of the kitchen
felt like they were closing in around him. The weapons in the sink, on the
counter, randomly scattered about the room, flashed and blurred along with the
rest of his vision. His entire body turned into Jell-O, his stomach flipping
and threatening to get rid of everything he ate that day. He couldn't identify
the noise that was pouring into the room and filling his ears until he
realized... that noise was him.
It was horrible hearing himself cry and choke up because it was exactly like
that night that Bro was in his room. Bro was on his bed. Bro straight up
fucking touched him.
Bro didn't care about him.
That sudden realization threw Dave off. He gasped, holding in what pitiful
sounds were tying to push past his flushed lips.
Bro didn't love him.
Dave lowered his gaze, looking off to the side as he wiped tears from his
cheeks. Why was he crying? Only babies cried.
Bro didn't give two shits about him.
The Strider reached for his katana, turning to head up to the roof. He made
sure to leave Cal downstairs this time.
***** This is Goodbye *****
Chapter Summary
     Dave has finally come to a conclusion: he needs to get away from Bro.
     But, who knew it would take a lot longer than he expected?
Chapter Notes
     FiNalLY. Here's the last chapter of my first fic! I hope it was
     enjoyable, and I'm really thankful to everyone who supported it. I
     can't wait to write something new for y'all. <3
Dave stepped out onto the roof, his face still puffy and red from crying. His
shades hid most of the aftermath of his breakdown, but he knew that Bro would
still be able to tell what had happened. He was always able to tell.
The young Strider stared at his brother, who, oddly enough, decided not to run
off and hide before making the first move. His figure was silhouetted by the
descending sun, and though it would have been memorizing to anyone else, Dave
saw it more as a disadvantage. He was blinded by rays, even through the lenses
of his shades. But, he refrained from raising his hand to shield his eyes,
keeping his fingers squeezed tightly around the hilt of his katana.
“Ya didn’t bring Cal.” Something about Bro’s voice caused his heart to race as
soon as it hit his ears, his throat aching as he swallowed down his emotion. If
Bro could stay this casual and stoic after everything he did to him, he needed
to be able to get on the same level as the older. Dave drained his brain of any
thoughts, shutting down emotions as he kept his eyes silently on Bro. He didn’t
speak, since he didn’t have anything to say. Not that Bro was asking where his
evil puppet was.
Dave focused on his breathing, the way his feet were planted to the ground, how
the shadows around them were getting longer with each passing second; anything
to keep his focus on the strife rather than what had happened before.
They were in the now. The present. Not the past.
Dave wasn’t planning on winning. He was planning on getting this over with so
he could get away from Bro faster.
He saw something he would have never expected from his brother. The slight
movement of his feet as he shifted his weight from side to side, almost as
though he was nervous or he felt awkward. Dave made the decision in a split
second before he darted forward, being the first to strike. He saw Bro’s
reluctance as an advantage, but he found that he might have made a mistake as
soon as his brother blocked his swing.
Jumping back, Dave kept the same emotionless expression on his face as he swung
his blade relentlessly at the older. Bro, predictably, was able to keep up,
blocking each blow with the blunt edge of his sword.
After a few moments, Dave took a few steps back, expecting to switch to defense
since he was sure Bro would take the opportunity.
But the fighting ceased. They both stood there, catching their breaths as they
stared at one another, Dave daring Bro to take a swing at him. Why wasn’t he
trying to hit him? Any other day, Bro would have ended the fight already. The
young Strider quickly realized something.
Bro had been on the defense this entire time.
“Fight me!” Dave snapped, face heating up. He was losing control over his
emotion, knowing that at any given minute it was going to boil over. “What the
fuck is wrong with you?? Why won’t you just fight me, god dammit!!”
When Bro still refused to move, Dave lowered his sword as tears welled up in
his eyes. He made a mistake by doing so, because he wasn’t ready for when the
older rushed forward, blade flashing through the air. Dave gasped and squeezed
his eyes shut, tensing as he waited for the blade to chop through his neck. He
always heard about how swords don’t leave a clean cut like they do in movies.
Skin is hard to get through, and there’s always the possibility of the blade
getting caught on bone or something.
His body shook at the thought as he stood there with bated breath, dropping his
katana out of pure fear. He had no idea how long he had been standing there
before he finally opened his eyes. Bro’s blade was dangerously close to his
neck, his brother’s muscles stiff with the way he was holding his katana.
Dave let out a shaky breath, every bone in his body melting until they felt
like the same consistency of tapioca pudding. He knew he was falling, but he
didn’t do anything to stop himself from hitting the concrete. His tailbone hit
the surface of the roof as he fell right on his ass, still looking up at his
brother as he put his hands out to stop gravity from doing the rest of it’s
job.
They stared quietly at one another, the only sound being the noise going on in
the streets below.
Then, Bro left. Dave didn’t say anything to make him stay, because he didn’t
want him to. He was glad when he was gone and he had the roof to himself and he
could cry as loud or as quietly as he wanted to, the only other presence being
the black, ruffled, feathery birds around him.
 
 
There was something weird about standing in front of the corpse of someone who
physically abused you for years and touched you to top it all off.
First off, you couldn’t help but wonder what their last thoughts were. Did they
have any remorse for what they put you through? Dave thought about this as he
stared at the katana in Bro’s chest, blood no longer soaking into his shirt.
He’d been here for a while now, but he could still smell the blood in the air
around him.
Did Bro feel bad about anything he put him through? He guess he would never
know. Even if Bro confessed his motives and guilt to the feathery orange douche
he fought alongside with, Dave was sure that the alternate version of himself’s
information wouldn’t even be enough to satisfy him. An apology from Bro was
never going to take back the years of abuse he put him through.
Another reason it was so weird was because it was so… sudden. So unexpected,
especially coming from a guy like Bro. He thought about it, and how difficult
it would be to slay the thing that had killed Bro when he wasn’t even as good
as his brother at fighting. It was disconcerting, to say in the least. It put a
lot of doubt in his mind about the game, although he knew it was better than
going back to the hell hole he was in before.
Dave couldn’t help but feel numb. Everything was telling him that he shouldn’t
feel bad that Bro was gone, because he was what he was trying to get away from
all along. But at the same time, he couldn’t help but feel that prickling
feeling that he owed Bro something. It was tearing him apart from the inside,
making him want to scream and cry, although he knew he’d never be able to do
either. It wasn’t because there was some fucked up Trollian girl watching him,
or that he didn’t want to. But he felt so empty and disorientated with a jumble
of emotions all at once that he was incapable of crying.
He knew he would eventually, probably when the shock of it all wore off, but
now wasn’t the time.
He needed to figure out an ironic way to get the sword out of Bro’s chest… or
just leave it there.
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