Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/403006.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Homestuck
  Relationship:
      John_Egbert/Dave_Strider
  Character:
      John_Egbert, Dave_Strider, Bro_(Homestuck)
  Additional Tags:
      Exhibitionism, Voyeurism, Masturbation
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-05-12 Words: 3288
****** Coming Out ******
by feistymuffin
Summary
     When Dave tries to remedy his household's lack of food, John sees a
     good prank opportunity. It doesn't go the way he originally planned.
Notes
     What is summary? sigh. I can't summarize.
     Enjoy! c:
See the end of the work for more notes
“Oh, hey, no that does not count!” you complain loudly. “You fucking cheated!”
Dave smirks at you, leaning back next to you. He is evidently basking in his
victory. “Hey, I didn’t say I played fair.”
You glower back. “I demand a rematch, and no cheating this time.”
Your best friend stands from the couch, stretching languidly before tossing his
controller onto the cushion he just vacated. “There are no rules in the Marvel
and Capcom universes. Also, I’m hungry.”
“You’re always hungry,” you retort, but stand up to join him anyways. You’ll
beat him in Call of Duty later like you always do. “Do you guys have anything
to eat?”
“If the Strider household is at its usual capacity of actual shit that passes
for food, I’m thinking no. Probably just Cheetos, orange soda and apple juice.”
Dave leads the way to the kitchen and you both gravitate towards the cupboards
without so much as a glance at the fridge. You learned your lesson years ago
when you went to get a drink and an errant shitty sword almost cut your left
hand clean off. Quick steps from Dave thankfully saved you and you only had a
deep gash in your arm that took seven stitches to close up. He still
occasionally ribs you on your then-shitty reflexes.
Who are you kidding? Your reflexes still suck butts.
“Yup,” you concur, “Cheetos, a fuckton of Betty Crocker cake mix, and some
soda. Wow, Dave, what the hell? Crocker?”
He shrugs, taking in your thoroughly affronted expression with no change in
his. “Bro likes that instant cake stuff, I have no idea why.”
You grunt, losing some of your substantial respect for the elder Strider. You
leave your house to rid yourself of the batterwitch’s presence, but she always
finds you. “Well I’m not eating any of it.”
Dave sighs, almost imperceptibly. “Yeah, I know. I’m gonna go talk to Bro about
the whereabouts of Egbert-quality foodstuffs.” He leaves the room without much
more preamble, turning down the hall and disappearing into the part of the
house that you’ve never been. Bro’s section of the house. His room and private
bathroom.
You try to wait patiently, but you’ve never been one for waiting. Instead, your
prankster’s gambit comes to life in the blink of an eye. You couldn’t pass up
this opportunity to prank Dave. You cannot. It is not a thing that you can do.
Silent as the grave, you tiptoe to Dave’s room after a few stealthy glances
down the hall to see that yes, he is indeed talking to Bro in his room. The
door’s open, so you can pick up the conversation as you slink towards the
opposite direction.
“… don’t see why I have to stock up for your little friend. Is he too good for
Cheetos?” you hear Bro say. He sounds slightly peeved, but that could be for
irony’s sake to try and get a rise from Dave, or to play up the hardship of him
feeding you. You never do understand him, or anything he does. Strange man.
“John loves Cheetos as good as the next derp, but he happens to run on real
food because his dad actually happens to feed him once in a while,” Dave
replies. There’s a bite in his voice, you think. Maybe he actually is upset
that Bro never has much food. It doesn’t make sense, since he is literally
wealthy from his smuppet business online. He has the money. Could he honestly
be too ironic for proper food?
You hover in Dave’s bedroom’s doorway to listen in on them. You barely hear Bro
say, “Well I apologize for damaging your dainty fucking appetite,” before the
bedroom door down the hall slams shut and you jump.
Lingering half in Dave’s room, you hesitate. You didn’t want Dave to fight with
his Bro over you. You should’ve just taken the stupid Cheetos. And if Dave was
actually upset, pranking him directly after an argument was probably not a good
idea.
Yeah, no, fuck it, you’re doing this.
You slink into his room and open his closet as silently as you can.
Surprisingly, the space is sparsely packed with shoeboxes labeled with dates.
You debate for a moment before taking a peek in one. Oh, they’re photographs.
You stack a few boxes into a loose square and sit yourself on them, taking out
your phone and turning the volume down to silent before pulling up your
contacts and selecting Dave.
To: Dave Strider
hey listen, im really sorry but i have to go! my dad just called me and he
needs me at home for some stupid thing. i just left your place, im sorry! he
said it was urgent. ill text you when im done whatever hes gonna get me to do
ok?
You send the text and wait excitedly, with an underlying sense of guilt. You
hope Dave’s not too mad that you left after basically making him talk to his
Bro to get you food. You also hope he won’t punch you in the face for pranking
him directly after making him think you left after making him talk to his Bro
to get you food. This is a tangled web you’re weaving, but damn if it isn’t a
little fun.
The muffled, raised voices down the hall stop, then pick up again much softer.
You hear the door open and shut, and you check to make sure there’s only a
sliver of the closet door open just before Dave walks into his room, shuts his
door and flops onto his bed with a whuff. He has his phone out, and is texting
someone. He sets it down with a long sigh and sort of reclines himself on his
pillows. A moment later your phone lights up.
From: Dave Strider
yeah yeah whatever no big deal. text me when daddy lets you loose.
You can’t contain your glee that, at least on the surface, he doesn’t seem mad.
Hurriedly you type back a response.
To: Dave Strider
well it turns out he just wanted me to help him bake for some huge thing hes
doing the dessert for so i can text you while we do this god awful task of
bringing crocker to life in these hideously disgusting cakes! can you tell im
really excited, because i totally am
After a few seconds you hear his phone buzz, and he instantly reaches for it.
You think you see the ghost of a smile on his face as he reads your response.
His thumbs work on the touch screen as he replies.
From: Dave Strider
wow yeah that sounds like the best past time for someone such as you. youre a
big cocker fan as i recall
You almost burst out in screaming laughter at his horrible typo, but somehow
contain yourself to a few silent giggles.
To: Dave Strider
oh yeah im a big fan of those. this is torture dave, lets talk about something
completely unrelated to bc
You watch him shift on his bed, and your eyes widen only slightly when he slips
his shirt off over his head and lays back down. What the hell was the point of
that? You phone lights up before you can really dwell on it.
From: Dave Strider
yeah alright. so you were saying something earlier about that game coming out,
whats it even about
Moving yourself slightly on the boxes, you wonder how long you can drag this
out before it gets too boring to just sit here and wait for him to get totally
mellow before you jump out and scare the crap out of him. You’re just trying to
figure out a refractory period of the hilarity to time ratio highlighted in
Colonel Sassacre’s text when your phone blips again.
what are you wearing egbert
You glance up at Dave through the closet doors and expect to see a grin on his
face at his joke, but instead you find yourself staring at Dave as he fondles
his own chest with one hand and holds his phone in the other.
What.
You try and pass it off. He’s just itchy. It’s kind of humid today so maybe
he’s sweaty and is rubbing something off his chest. He took off his shirt to
cool off. That’s it.
Your hands are not shaking as you type your reply.
To: Dave Strider
oh ha ha, youre so funny. well im wearing an apron because crocker will not
touch me any more than necessary, but other than that just the clothes i left
your house in. and the game is called mass effect 3 and wow its so good the
trailers look great
Wiping your sweating palms on your jeans, you attempt and imminently fail to
not look at Dave as he continues to rub himself. The handful of times you’ve
seen Dave without his shirt have been when he changed into his sleepwear on
sleepovers, or the few times that you guys actually went outside and visited a
public pool on days that were just way too hot to sit inside and do nothing but
slowly bake. Each time, you tried really hard not to ogle his toned chest in
envious admiration. You had to admit it, those rooftop strifes with his Bro
really paid off. He was perfect.
Whoa. Whoa whoa whoa. That is not a thing that you just thought.
No, you think as Dave’s lips form into a small smile as he reads your text,
that is a thing that you definitely just thought.
This is getting really weird. You have to stop this before it gets any more out
of hand.
From: Dave Strider
aprons are sexy man, good call
You smother a smile despite yourself. Praise, even fake or humourous praise,
from Dave was always nice. You like it when he likes something you did or said.
He is the cool kid after all.
A small noise from Dave makes you look up, and your jaw hits the floor.
Dave is undoing his pants.
Dave is fucking undoing his pants what is he doing.
You cannot look away as he slowly shimmies himself out of his jeans and kicks
those onto the floor next to his discarded shirt. His hand, previously occupied
with being tantalizing all over his chest, now goes to work slowly stroking
himself through his boxers.
What the fuck are you doing, stop looking.
You can’t. You can’t stop. Dave is doing this to himself while he’s talking to
you. Is he doing this because of you, or because he’s bored? Because he’s
horny, and you’re completely unrelated but he wouldn’t leave a bro hanging in a
Cocker crisis?
Shit, you mean Crocker. CROCKER.
Holy god you are the sickest bastard in the world.
To: Dave Strider
haha oh yeah, working the apron. i could be a fashionista or whatever they are.
sell apron designs to clothes designers and bring aprons back into style like a
super coolkid would do
You don’t know why you’re doing this. How can you keep this thing going? You
have to stop. You have to diffuse this situation before it gets really awkward
when you try and prank him while he mas—oh your god, he is masturbating and
texting you and you are watching him you sick freak.
You hear his phone beep with your message. A couple moments later his low laugh
reaches your ears, and you shiver. You actually shiver. What is wrong with you?
It’s at least twenty degrees Celsius outside today, not at all cold.
Shakily, you shift on the boxes and almost jump out of your skin when you
identify the problem.
You’re hard.
It is official, you are creepy and sick and wrong and your prankster’s gambit
is hereby forever rescinded because this is just disgusting. How can you do
this?
Honestly, you need to stop asking that question because you don’t know, so shut
up about it already.
From: Dave Strider
id even go one farther from that. totally make an apron franchise, knock down
the batterwitch from that high pedestal of hers by making the best cooking
aprons and everything aprons that crocker becomes obsolete and she just goes
under due to apron overload
A flurry of movement drags your attention back to Dave, and you swallow a
shriek before it can crawl out of your throat.
His boxers are gone, on the floor with his other clothes.
Dave is leaning back on his bed, his head shoved back hard into the pillows,
and you watch his legs jerk slightly, his completely naked legs, as he drags
his fingers lightly up his cock.
You feel yourself strain against your jeans, and there’s no getting around it.
You’re turned on by this, to an unreal degree. Dave turns you on.
Uneasily, silently, you get off the boxes and kneel right in front of the
sliver in the closet doors. Your hands fumble to open the clasp on your pants,
but once that’s taken care of you shimmy them down your hips enough to shuck
your boxers down as well and achingly pull yourself out.
To: Dave Strider
haha, thatll teach her not to fuck with us! apron inc ahoy, were making this
happen
You wrap a hand around yourself, and your hips twitch just slightly into the
touch. It’s been… a while since you’ve touched yourself. You think the last
time was after Dave sent you a porn link and guilt tripped you into watching
it. It had been a foursome, two women and two men, and there was plenty of
heterosexuality and homosexuality to make you question your own as you got rock
hard within the first few minutes.
You cautiously lean yourself forward on the doors, dropping your phone on the
floor with a barely audible thump as you see that Dave has forgotten his
entirely. The doors hold you with next to no movement, so you press your eye as
close to the opening as you can. This grants you a perfect view as Dave’s
second hand, now free from texting you, disappears between his legs and cups
his balls. His shuddering sigh is enough to make you keen, but you don’t. You
stay shut up and watch him as you slowly stroke yourself in time with his hand.
Dave shakes his head jerkily a few times, and you think that it is quite
impossible for him to be done already, but you understand once his shades slide
off his face to land next to his pillows.
The sight of his red eyes clouded with his lust and need makes your body warm
noticeably, and your hand gets a little tighter, a little faster.
You feel like you’ve stepped out of time, like this isn’t real, but it’s
happening, and it’s definitely a thing, but time doesn’t exist here.
Realistically, it’s probably been five minutes since your last text, but you
feel like you’ve been staring at him for a month, a year, ten years, forever.
It also feels like you just started a moment ago, but you know that’s not true
because your breathing, carefully kept silent, is noticeably heavier.
Dave starts writhing on the bed, gasping slightly as his hand at his balls goes
a bit lower, and you think the thought of him fingering himself is possibly the
hottest thing ever. His pale legs spread wide, knees bent, and you have a prime
view as he indeed slips a finger into himself and whines.
Your breath gasps out before you can stop it, and it sounds impossibly loud to
your ears, but Dave doesn’t seem to hear it over his own breathing, which is
getting faster by the minute. His hips lift as you see his hand shift, his
finger go deeper until it’s at the knuckle, and you brush your hand over the
tip of your cock to smear some of the dripping precum over your dick. By now
you’re thoroughly fucking your hand, hips and fist moving to merge in slightly
erratic pattern but it’s working well and you know you’re getting pretty close.
Dave’s hands are working himself like he’s a record on his turntables, and his
body thrums to some unheard beat that only he can feel. You watch as his
fingers wrapped around his cock start to shake, and his penetrating hand gets
dangerously fast as he pumps in and out of himself. You see it coming as his
whole body arches into a smooth curve, his fist working fast to milk himself
dry as he explodes all over his own chest with a strangled cry, “John!”
You’re surprised when you feel yourself there, all of a sudden, and your
supporting hand trembles hard against the closet door. You bite your lip hard
and thrust into your hand as you come, your seed splattering onto the door and
on your hand. It drips down onto the floor as your brain boots back up, and you
process what you just did.
You just masturbated to Dave, your male best friend, while you both texted each
other and he was unaware that you watched him from his closet as he masturbated
to you (of which you’re now sure because that cry could not be anything else).
You can’t find it in you to feel bad about it, even a little. You do feel a
little bad that you want to do it again.
You wipe your hand on the carpet where there’s already a pool forming from your
cum, and shove yourself back into your clothes. You get to your feet
unsteadily, grabbing your phone and watching as Dave texts.
From: Dave Strider
you can come out of the closet now
Your heart stops cold, and you feel your knees jerk as you nearly crash back
onto your previously made seat of photo boxes. He knew, this whole time, that
you were here. Somewhere in the back of your mind you make a note to praise him
for his double entendre but right now, you’re struck dumb.
What the fuck just happened?
You eventually open the closet door to see a full-spread view of a very naked
and sexually sated Dave lounging casually on his bed like Adonis himself.
“Sup,” he says coolly, and you just stand there. Eventually you have the grace
to look away and stare at your feet instead.
The silence is unbearably long, and you feel your nerves reaching breaking
point the longer neither of you say anything. You don’t really regret doing
what you did, but at the same time, you’re both pretty fucked up for doing
nothing to at least try and stop it. This is a pretty huge case of voyeurism
and exhibitionism if you’ve ever seen it.
Dave finally sighs and sits up, reaching onto his floor and grabbing a random
article of clothing to wipe off his chest. “Egbert, seriously, stop having an
inner conniption and come snuggle already.”
“But we—what?” you balk, slowly coming forward. “Snuggle?”
Red eyes roll. “Well, yeah, we basically just fucked. I want to snuggle.”
You flush several unsightly colours of pink as he stretches out on the bed,
scooching over enough to make room for you next to him.
“Oh, but I have a strict no-clothes policy,” he warns you, his face impossibly
serious. “Since you just sullied my closet, I’m pretty sure you owe me at least
a strip tease.”
You grin despite yourself, the situation, everything. You grin because he’s
still just Dave, and you’re still just you, and this is still just the two of
you.
This is definitely a thing you can do, indefinitely.
End Notes
     Feel free to comment or con/crit if you think you can help me
     improve!
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!