Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/387703.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Homestuck
  Relationship:
      Bro/John_Egbert
  Character:
      Bro_(Homestuck), John_Egbert
  Additional Tags:
      Age_Difference, Underage_Character
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-04-20 Updated: 2013-04-25 Chapters: 8/? Words: 22904
****** Nonaddictive ******
by Marty_(orphan_account)
Summary
     John is fourteen when he goes to visit Dave and his lame-as-shit
     brother. Things go smoothly and Dave's Bro actually isn't so bad to
     hang out with. He's not the coolest guy ever, but there are
     definitely ways that he could be lamer.
     There are very obvious ways he could be cooler, though.
     Not offering weed and anal sex to a fourteen year old boy is one of
     them.
***** Chapter 1 *****
Chapter Notes
     i'm just going to put chapter warnings at the beginning of each one
     so i don't totally spoil everything by tagging stuff that happens.
     yeah. okay? okay.
     warnings for this chapter: marijuana and high sex, which is
     apparently considered dubcon? i mean i think it's different but some
     people do consider it dubcon so that's. a thing. okay. i think that
     is all.
On your fourteenth birthday, two things happen: first, your dad gives you a
laptop he intended to give you for Christmas but forgot about. Second, your dad
gives you a plane ticket to see Dave in Texas.
You’re overexcited and overenthusiastic but it doesn’t matter too much because
you’ve known Dave since you were like ten and seeing him is gonna be great.
Your dad tells you that you can only go if you get 90s and over in all your
classes, which you really didn’t need any incentive to do in the first place,
so it isn’t that hard to manage it.
July third, your dad drops you off at the airport, reminds you that he’s proud
of your grades, and tells you that he’ll miss you and to have a good time with
Dave. You tell him you’ll miss him, too, because a month is a long time for you
to be away from home, and tell him that of course you’ll have fun with Dave
because it’s Dave and he’s your best friend.
You are about to spend a month at Dave’s apartment in Texas.
Between the airport in Seattle and the airport in Houston, nothing is all that
interesting—you read your book and don’t do much else. You do come close to
finishing your book and that sort of sucks because you’re not gonna have much
to do on your way back to Washington, but that’s fine.
When you meet Dave face-to-face for the first time, you give him a hug and a
fistbunp and then give a more polite hello to his brother, who laughs at you
when you call him ‘Mr. Bro’ and tells you to just call him Bro.
Bro seems different from other adults you know. Probably because he doesn’t act
like one in the least.
Like, at all. He speeds when he drives and he looks away from the road at least
five times in the twenty minute drive from the airport back to his and Dave’s
apartment, mostly to bother Dave.
It’s like he’s stuck in that sixteen-year-old-boy stage forever. It doesn’t
bother you that much, all things considered, because, hey. One more person who
acts like he’s around your age to hang out with.
Sort of.
Dave’s Bro is a bit weird, and you don’t have anything in common with him,
other than that you and him both like to play video games. Bro’s taste in games
is even worse than yours, though. A lot worse. That’s kinda saying something,
according to all your friends.
There are a few nights where you end up hanging out alone with Bro in the
living room because Dave’s gone to bed and you aren’t tired enough for sleep
yet. You get along with Bro pretty well, considering the age difference (and
you don’t actually know how old he is, anyway—old enough to have raised Dave,
at least) and you have an easy time acting the same around him as you would
around Dave.
It’s one of your last nights there before you’re supposed to be heading home
that Dave apologizes and heads to bed early. You and Bro both call him a big
baby (it’s only one!) and he flips you both off, heading down the short hallway
and into his bedroom.
Then, almost tentatively, Bro speaks.
“I know you’re like this ridiculously lame little nerd and stuff, but have you
ever tried pot?”
You pause the game you’re playing with him, put down your controller, look over
at him. “First of all,” you say, folding your arms over your chest, “I’m not
lame, and I’m not a nerd. Second of all,” you start to sound like a bit of a
concerned parent, “that’s illegal, and it’s addictive.”
He actually laughs at you, which makes you go a little red becuase you’re
pretty sure you messed up somehow with what you said. “It isn’t addictive, kid.
I swear it’s not. It’s just kind of a fun thing to do. Trust me. Try it. One
time.” You go quiet. “Peer pressure.” He’s laughing when he says this, so you
give him a rough shove and he snorts, shoving you back.
“It’s still illegal.”
“If we get caught.”
That’s the actual worst reason to agree to anything ever, but you shrug and
tell him you’ll try it and watch while he stands and goes to the side of his
computer desk, reaching down behind it and pulling out a little box.
You’re almost a little bit fascinated (you aren’t sure if that’s the right
word) as he rolls a joint and puts it between his lips, lighting it and taking
a long hit.
It’s surprising when, a moment later, the joint is being passed from his hand
to yours. You shake your head dismissively and he shakes his head right back at
you, still holding in his breath.
“N-no. I don’t… Um.” You turn red again because you literally just stuttered
and that was really dumb.
He laughs at you, then he leans forward on the couch. You lean back. He scoots
forward, you scoot back.
“Come here. Christ.”
You shuffle back closer to him and and he brings the joint to your lips, still
holding it for you, tells you to suck and then inhale and for the love of God,
kid, don’t cough, but it makes your eyes water and your throat burn and your
chest hurt so you don’t manage to hold it in for long but you breathe out
without coughing and last about a second after that before you’re pretty much
coughing up a lung. He grabs his glass of water off the table and pushes it
into your hands, telling you to drink it and then he’s taking another hit
before you even have a chance to start drinking. You drain the glass and he
laughs at you and asks if you feel anything yet.
Everything just sort of feels warm. You’re pretty sure that’s the room
temperature, and maybe the fact that Bro has been in here for who-the-fuck-
knows-how-long smoking weed without any windows or doors open. You aren’t sure
if the fuzzy feeling you’re starting to get is you forcing yourself to feel
that way (it’s such a movie cliche) or if it’s actually a thing.
You aren’t totally sure of anything right now. Everything just feels a little
bit strange but that might have to do with the fact that you just coughed until
you were a little bit lightheaded and then drained a big glass of water in the
space of a few minutes.
You rearrange yourself on the futon until you can lay down, feet in Bro’s lap,
and he laughs at you again.
“What?” Your voice is a little bit hoarse, probably from coughing, and he grins
at you.
“You’re high,” he tells you, leaning down so he’s almost laying down beside
you. You suddenly feel like you’re really close (too close) to him, and you
only stay still for a second before you’re squirming away from him. He laughs
again, then lays down completely, looking at you. “Really high.”
That actually makes you laugh, too. Probably a bit too hard, or maybe you only
laugh a little bit, but then you roll onto your side, facing away from him.
“What’m I supposed to do now?”
“I dunno,” he says, voice sounding slow, quiet, maybe a little lazy. “What d’ya
wanna do?”
“I dunno. What do you wanna do?”
“I’m too high for that shit, don’t start.” You laugh again, and you’re sort of
pleased when he laughs, too. “Just lay here and… Enjoy it.”
You do just that, shutting up and closing your eyes and mostly just letting
yourself get used to the feeling. It’s weird and you don’t know how to explain
it, and you don’t know if you totally like it but it isn’t all bad.
There are a few seconds where it feels like you’re moving when you aren’t, and
you hold onto the bedsheet Bro has on his futon. You don’t remember saying
anything but then Bro’s arms are around you and he’s telling you to shush and
that you’ll be fine so you roll over to face him, pressing your face against
his chest because you’re a little bit dizzy and it feels nice to be close to
someone, even if that someone is your best friend’s weird older brother.
Oh. You start to wonder when he took his shirt off. Or why. He doesn’t shove
you away, though, just settles his arms around your waist and leans his face
against your hair. He sort of smells nice. Different than you sort of expect an
older guy to smell, but the only older guy you’ve ever really smelled is your
dad and he just smells like pipe tobacco and aftershave and cake 24/7.
Bro smells like weed (duh) and cigarette smoke, which smells really different
from your dad’s pipe tobacco. It isn’t entirely unpleasant, but it’s probably
the first time you’ve ever smelled cigarette smoke on anybody. He smells like
body wash, too, very different from your own, but still really good.
You hear yourself moan against his skin, and it sounds almost like a mixture of
tired and aroused noises. You might’ve been embarrassed if you weren’t stoned.
He smiles against your hair, then asks if you wanna nap. You shake your head,
wrapping your arms around him so your hands are on his back.
“Do you usually just come right out and ask Dave’s friends if they wanna sleep
with you?”
“Obviously. Harley’s like an animal in bed.”
“Dude! Sick! That’s my cousin you’re talking about!”
He laughs again, then goes quiet, doesn’t say anything for a while. After it’s
been silent for maybe five minutes, he whispers against your hair, “How are you
doing?”
“I’m okay. I think? Maybe.” You look up at him, and you don’t know when he took
his shades off, either, but you smile at him and he smiles back. His eyes are
darker than Dave’s, but still red. They might be a little bit bloodshot, just a
bit, but it’s kind of dark in the room and you can’t tell.
“Maybe? What might be wrong?”
“Mmm. Dunno.”
He laughs at you and then rolls onto his back, pulling you so you’re tucked
under his arm.
“You’re fine,” he tells you, bringing a hand up to pet your hair. You are fine.
You feel totally fine. You do let out a little laugh, tangling your fingers
into his hair and stroking it.
Then he kisses you. It isn’t insistent and there isn’t any tongue and it’s
chaste if anything, but his lips are against yours and it feels nice, so you
hold him there, your arms wrapping around his neck and one hand on the back of
his head.
After a while, he pulls back for a breath and tucks your head under his chin.
“Wanna nap or somethin’,” he mumbles into your hair. You shake your head.
“No, dude, you’re not allowed to nap,” you gently smack his face and laugh.
“You gotta entertain me.” You can hear your heart beating in your ears and it
sounds weird, feels weird, and then you bury your face harder against his chest
and wait for it to go away. “‘M bored, Bro.”
“You’re stoned, findin’ shit to do is your problem.”
“You’re holding onto me.” Not that you want him to let go, especially.
He kisses the top of your head. “I’m sure you can find something to do.” Then
he changes the subject. “How’re you feelin’?”
You shrug again, because you’re feeling a little weird. Stoned, obviously, but
it’s a weird feeling and you aren’t sure how much you like it. You’ve got a
whole bunch of vague feelings and it’s weird and confusing. “Weird,” is the
only way to really describe it, so that’s what you say to him.
“I feel weird. Everything feels weird.” You giggle. “Kinda good. Weird good.
Good weird?”
“Shush.”
“Don’t tell me to shush. I wanna talk.” He laughs at you again and then kisses
you on the lips again to shut you up, succeeding easily because you’re too busy
wrapping your arms arouns his neck and leaning into the kiss and thinking about
how good it feels to be kissing him.
It does feel really really good. Being in his arms and kissing him and just
being close to him.
Maybe a bit too good because a second later he’s laughing into your mouth.
“Whoa there, tiger. I think you’re getting a little overexcited.” He finishes
his sentence by brushing a hand over the lump in your jeans.
You moan against his lips and buck your hips against him and he hums quietly.
There’s nothing but the sounds of your moans for a few moments as he palms you
through your jeans. Then he laughs. “Come on. A second ago you didn’t wanna
shut up, now you can’t be assed to tell me whether you’re enjoying yourself or
not?” You whine at him, and he snorts. “Use your words, John.”
“Feels good,” you say, leaning your forehead against his shoulder. “Don’t
stop.”
That seems to be enough for him because he pushes a gloved hand down your
pants, wrapping a hand around your dick and giving you a little squeeze, making
you cling to him.
He keeps going like that, jerking you with his hand at an awkward angle and his
other arm wrapped around you, until you start to wriggle out of your pants. You
kick your pants off the edge of the bed, then start laughing when he pulls your
boxers off, tossing them aside.
You’re sitting in Dave’s living room with your pants and boxers off, feeling
ridiculously stoned, about to be jerked off by Bro, who’s at least in his late
20s.
It almost makes you uncomfortable to think that, but that doesn’t really
matter. It doesn’t matter right now because he’s kissing you on the nose and
sitting up grabbing the ashtray again, sticking the joint between his lips and
laying back down. He lights it and takes another hit, then passes it to you.
You hold it on your own this time, and manage to hold the smoke in your lungs
and you don’t cough and when you finally breathe out you get a little bit
lightheaded.
“Bro,” you whisper, “Bro, it feels really good when you touch me and I want you
to touch me some more.” You hesitate, then add, “please?”
He laughs at you for the millionth time in the night and kisses you on the
cheek, wrapping his hand around your dick again.
“Oh,” you gasp and buck your hips forward because the awkward angle is gone now
and it feels a lot better and you can’t stop the words that tumble from your
mouth. “Wow this feels… So good, oh God. Please don’t stop. Please, please
don’t stop. Keep touching me. Please, I want you t—” He chuckles (his laugh is
slow and smooth and reminds you of something and you aren’t sure of what it is
and you want to tell him that later) and kisses you again, pressing a finger to
your lips when he pulls away.
“Shhhhh.” You listen to him and press your face against his chest, thrusting
into his hand. After a while, he holds your hips down. “C’mon, do you wanna
finish already?” You shake your head, burying your face harder against his
chest. “Then calm down a bit.”
“What if I wanna touch you?”
He doesn’t say anything, just backs off a little and then undoes his jeans and
shimmies out of them enough that he can pull his dick out through the fly of
his boxers.
It’s almost intimidating how big he is, but you grab him anyway, giving him a
few gentle squeezes just to test his reactions. He makes little noises in the
back of his throat, burying his face in your hair and whispering little
encouragements. “Just like that,” he says, tangling his fingers into your hair.
“Yes, fuck yes.” You smile against his neck and move forward a bit, pressing
your dick against his.
The size difference feels really obvious when you’re pressed against him like
this and it’s embarrassing but he doesn’t seem to mind because he presses back
as you grab his dick and yours in both hands.
“Shit,” he whispers and then he laces his fingers with yours around the dicks
in your hand.
“Your dick is way bigger than mine,” you whisper, bucking against him. “Like,
wow.”
He laughs. “Yeah, that’s hot,” his voice is sarcastic and you flush because
that really wasn’t a hot thing to say. “It doesn’t matter that much. Quit
worrying about it.” He leans in and kisses your ear, then whispers, “I kinda
like it.” You flush redder and then climb onto him, straddling his hips. “Whoa
there,” he gasps as you grind down against him. You moan and he grabs onto your
hips, holding you away from him. “Hey.”
“Mmm.” You press your face against his chest and try to move your hips some
more because you’ve gotten yourself worked up and you need friction and you
want to come.
“Stop,” he says, hitting your hip lightly. You listen, sitting up and looking
at him. “How far do you wanna go here?” He’s got a cautious (you think it’s
cautious) look in his eyes when he talks but you laugh at him, shrugging and
then leaning down and kissing him on the mouth. He looks uncomfortable until
you say something.
“I dunno, I just wanna touch you. I want you to touch me, c’mon.” You start to
rock your hips again and then he pulls you into his arms and sits up, letting
you fall onto your back on the couch.
“On your knees.” You give him a confused look but he just motions for you to do
as he says and you don’t want to argue because he knows what he’s doing so you
get up on your knees, facing him. He tells you to turn around, though, so you
do. You’ve got a knee on either side of his hips and he’s got his hands on your
hips and he tells you to bend over.
You’re not sure what he’s got planned and it sort of worries you but you do
what he says anyway, bending at the waist and holding yourself up with your
elbows.
Then he’s got his face pressed up against your ass, his tongue working at your
entrance and pushing into you a little bit, making you gasp and moan and squirm
underneath him. His tongue is stretching you out, just a bit, pushing all the
way in, then pulling out and pressing against you without actually moving.
“Come on, please,” you whine, not quite sure what you’re saying ‘please’ for.
He laughs against your skin, making you moan again, then puts both hands on
your hips, a thumb on each cheek of your ass, pulling gently.
“You have a nice ass,” he says, literally kissing your ass. You just chuckle at
first because he definitely just kissed your ass, and then think about it more,
starting to giggle. After a while you have to roll onto your side, curling up
and snorting with laughter.
“Oh man,” you say eventually, wiping an actual tear from your eye because
you’re laughing that hard. “Shit. You just kissed my ass.”
He rolls his eyes at you, looking far too happy for a guy who just stuck his
tongue into an ass. You laugh and wrap your arms around his neck, prompting him
to pull you back into his lap and grind up against you. You moan and lean in a
little, though you’re reluctant to actually kiss him. He did just have his
mouth right on your ass.
You kiss him anyway, rocking your hips forward against his until he stops you,
bending down and he’s obviously flexible because he starts to suck you off,
taking you all the way into his mouth (it seems like it’s really easy for him
and that’s kind of embarrassing).
He keeps sucking you and you keep making all sorts of noises, stupid noises,
little gasps and moans that you can’t help. Then he pulls back, only sucks on
the head of your cock, smirks when you start whining and bucking your hips.
“Have some patience, kid,” he says, giving your ass a little smack that isn’t
hard enough to hurt. “I’m just making sure you’re all worked up for me.”
“I’m worked up just fine! Please, please.” You need to be touched, need to
come, and it’s starting to be too much, combined with every other sensation
that’s happening all at once.
“Please what? I still don’t know what you want from me.”
Your mind blanks, your heart pounding, and you give up on holding yourself up,
pushing his head out from under you and letting yourself relax onto him,
pushing your face against his chest and feeling your eyes starting to well up
because you’re so overstimulated and you need to be touched and he’s being
difficult. “I— Mmmn. I don’t know either.” You press your face harder against
him and you’re completely sure that he knows you’re literally crying because
you want to come. “Do anything to me. Anything you want. Please.”
He smirks and picks you up, stands up, sets you back down on the couch and then
goes to dig through his computer desk, bringing back a little bottle and a box
of condoms, which you stare at for a second because did he really need to get a
whole box? He sets both on the coffee table, though, and settles back into his
spot next to you, then pulls you back into his lap.
He kisses you, then pulls away and reaches to the coffee table too grab the
joint (which is almost gone) again, lighting it up and taking a long hit and
then passing it to you and letting you do the same as he wipes at your tears
with his thumb. You force yourself to stop crying because that was a really
babyish thing to do in the first place, then exhale. He leans in, pushing his
lips up against yours in something that’s almost-but-not-quite a kiss,
breathing into your mouth. You almost shove him away for a second before you
realize what he’s doing, and then you lean into him, making a little noise into
the sort-of-kiss. He takes the joint from your fingers and then sets it back in
the ash tray, then reaches for the lube he grabbed.
His hands are behind you and you don’t see them but you hear the sound of the
bottle opening and then there are little wet sounds and you cling to him as he
pushes one finger into you slowly, gently. Your muscles tense up anyway despite
how gentle he’s being, so he brings a hand up to pet your hair. “Shh. Relax for
me, John.”
You do as he asks you to because he’s already up to one knuckle in your ass and
you can’t stop now because all you want is to make him come for you. You want
him to make you come, too. You’re turned way on and you need some friction on
your dick, you need to get off, but you’re gonna be patient and not rush him.
“Bro, when does it start to feel better?” Your words come out slow, like you’ve
got a mouthful of blanket. “I want it to feel good.”
“Mm. ‘Unno. Tell me to stop if it bothers you too much.” You nod and nuzzle
into him, closing your eyes tight and moaning against his shoulder. “Feel
good?” You nod again because it is starting to feel good.
When you nod, though, you can feel him starting to work a second finger into
you. You cling harder to him, digging your fingernails into his shoulder and
gritting your teeth until he puts his other hand on your back, rubbing in
little circles.
“C’mon, babe. Relax.” You force yourself into relaxing again, making a little
noise in the back of your throat and then kissing him hard on the lips.
After a while he adds a third finger, and eventually a fourth, both making you
tense up until he tells you to relax a third and fourth time. You’re
embarrassed because you’re acting like a little kid, and that’s probably the
opposite of attractive, but it doesn’t especially seem to bother him as he
pulls you up further in his lap, curling his fingers up against your prostate
and grinning at the sound you make.
“Please, no more teasing. I want you. Please.” He laughs at this but reaches
for the box of condoms, grabbing one and getting it open and starting to roll
it down over his dick before you stop him. “No,” you say, kissing him and
frowning. “Come on, I wanna feel youinside me, not—”
“John, I can’t just not use a condom.”
“Please!” Admittedly, you sound a little too whiny, but you roll your hips
forward and make another wordless noise, then say, “please,” again.
He’s reluctant, but he tosses the condom aside and lets you move at your own
pace.
Your own pace is slow, teasingly slow, even if you don’t intend for it to be.
You grab onto his dick and pump it a few times, then move forward and let your
body sink down a little bit.
The first few inches are fine. Great, even. “It feels so good, oh God,” you
take a sharp breath in through your teeth. “You’re so big, Bro, oh wow.” You
sink down further onto him, moaning out loud. “I love it. You feel so good.”
He laughs because you can’t seem to shut up and then puts his hands on your
hips, holding you up so you don’t let yourself go too far too fast.
“I—” You cut yourself off with a loud moan as you move the slightest bit. “This
is so perfect,” you gasp and push your hips down a little lower, whining
loudly. “You— It feels so good. Being… stretched.” It sounds kind of disgusting
when you put it that way but you can’t make yourself care as your hips meet his
and you make a noise that’s halfway between a moan and a whine.
“Yeah?”
You nod.
“Tell me all about how good it feels.”
“It’s so perfect. You’re so big and I— I feel so full.”
He laughs at you for the millionth time, then leans up and kisses your neck.
“Can I move?”
“Please,” you moan, gripping his shoulders hard. His hips start to move and you
keep moaning. Your throat’s going to be sore in the morning because you haven’t
actually been quiet for more than a few seconds since this started. When you
have been quiet, you’ve just been speaking constantly, streams of words that
you can’t think clearly enough to stop.
You focus on the feeling of having him inside you now, the way you’re so
stretched out and the way he doesn’t stop moving, regardless of the sounds
you’re making.
“Doin’ okay?”
“Faster,” is all you can say, and it’s more like you’re moaning it than saying
it, and then, a few seconds later you add, “harder.”
It isn’t hard to get him to comply (you don’t actually have to do anything, he
just does what you asked for) and then he’s pounding into you, holding your
hips to keep you still. When you start to move in time with his thrusts, it’s
like heaven and you don’t think you’ve ever enjoyed anything quite so much.
If you have, you’re incapable of remembering it as he starts getting a little
bit rougher in the gentlest possible way and that doesn’t even make sense but
you don’t care because everything is too much and—
You come too soon, mostly onto his stomach. He’s surprised, that much is
obvious, but he stops anyway, pulls out of you as gently as he can and then
wraps his arms around you, ignoring his boner in favor of kissing you on the
forehead and letting you settle onto the bed beside him.
You kiss his neck, feeling exhausted and unable to speak or move or do anything
but cuddle up to him and sleep. You wish you weren’t too tired to laugh when
you think, his dick is probably more addictive than the weed.
***** Chapter 2 *****
Chapter Notes
     okay i divided it into two chapters because this is gonna be a thing.
     a thing with multiple chapters.
     warnings for this chapter: i don't think there are any? somebody
     correct me if i'm wrong. ;w;
You aren’t the first one to wake up in the morning, but when you open your
eyes, Bro’s looking back at you with a contented little smile on his face. Your
face is just inches from his, and he closes the short distance and presses his
lips to yours, almost making you jump back until you remember that you’ve
already done a lot more than just kiss him.
His arms are around your waist already, and he shifts so he can pull you
against him, his thumb rubbing gentle little circles into your back.
“Morning, babe,” he whispers when he pulls away from the kiss, smile turning
into a grin. “Have fun last night?”
You laugh, no doubt sounding a little nervous, and pull back a little bit
because this is kind of awkward and you slept with a guy you’ve barely spoken
to. That guy is Dave’s brother, no less, and you’re in his bed and you don’t
know if Dave has seen you yet and you aren’t wearing any clothes and there’s
just his bedsheet covering you and him both.
“Um,” is all you can think to say.
He laughs, then imitates you, making his voice higher, a little whiny, moaning,
“faster, harder, oh god, Bro, fuck me, please,” and he starts laughing when you
smack him in the arm. “C’mon, though. Did you have fun?”
“…Yes.”
“Regret it?”
“Maybe.” He doesn’t say anything for a minute, and neither do you, then you
whisper, “no,” because you don’t, you just aren’t sure what Dave will say.
“I’m glad,” he says, kissing you again and tangling his fingers into your hair,
gently tugging out a knot and then smiling. He kisses you over and over, and
you try to keep up, then give him a shove when he starts grinding his hips
against yours. “If I had to guess, I’d say you won’t be able to walk right for
the next little while.” You feel your face get hot and he pulls you against him
again, then pulls you along with him until he’s on the edge of the futon. “You
gotta try at some point.”
He stands, not seeming to give a shit that he doesn’t have any clothes on, then
turns towards you and waits for you to follow. You’re shy, so you wrap the
sheet around yourself as you move over to the edge of the futon. Then you stand
up and almost immediately flop back down.
“Owww ow ow.”
“Aw,” he leans down and brushes your hair back, kissing your forehead. “I’m
sorry.” You make a really displeased noise and hide your face in your arms
because this is really embarrassing and you can’t even stand up. “It’ll get
better, okay?” You make the same noise again and he laughs, though you aren’t
sure if he’s laughing at you so much as at the situation. “What’s wrong? Cat
got your tongue?” You stay quiet a moment, then he lays back down beside you
and kisses you on the lips. You don’t kiss him back and he pulls away, looking
a little disappointed. “Are you okay? Really. Tell me the truth.”
“I’m fourteen,” you say, like it might be news to him. He just looks at you,
like it doesn’t matter. “I—” You try not to sound like a tool. “I was a
virgin.”
“Oh.” He does sound surprised, and then he pulls you against him and puts his
hand on the back of your head and you bury your face in his neck because you
feel kind of gross, if you’re being totally honest with yourself. You don’t
quite regret what happened—but you feel gross because you lost your virginity
to your best friend’s brother who you’ve barely spoken to before in your life.
“Look, hey,” he nudges you until you pull back and look at him. “It’s alright.
What’s wrong with that?”
“We’ve hardly spoken before,” you remind him, and he bumps his nose against
yours.
“Doesn’t mean we can’t start.”
“We’ve already—”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“It does to me! We aren’t even… together or anything. I’m fourteen, and you’re
how old? It’s kind of a big deal!” You raise your voice a little, then quiet
back down because you realize that Dave might be around. “I wanted my first
time to be… I don’t know. Special.”
He looks guilty, like he might actually feel bad, and he starts to pet your
hair. “I’m thirty-five,” he says, sounding every bit as guilty as he looks.
“And I’m sorry.”
The guilt on his face actually makes you feel bad for making him feel bad, so
you lean your forehead against his and stay quiet. You lost your virginity to a
man only a couple years younger than your dad.
After a while, he pulls away and stands up again, pulling on a pair of boxers
and a shirt, then digging through a pile of laundry (you aren’t sure whether
it’s dirty or clean and you don’t really want to know) and grabbing a pair of
jeans. “I’m gonna go get us some breakfast. Pancakes?” You nod silently, not
sure if you even know what to say to him right now.
He leaves the apartment and you slowly untangle yourself from his sheet,
finding your own boxers, which are hanging off his computer monitor. It hurts
to walk and you’re pretty sure you’re walking weird, but it’s not a big deal
because it’ll pass. There isn't any reason for it not to pass. You just hope
Dave doesn't notice later. You find your shirt and jeans in a heap on the
floor, and your glasses on the coffee table.
It isn’t so bad. You could totally just forget it even happened. You were
stoned and so was he and it wasn’t even that big a thing.
Except you don’t really want to forget it. He’s twenty-one years older than you
and he’s a total creep but you do sorta like him. He seems sweet. You don’t
want it to be a one-night-stand sort of deal. You really, really don't.
When he comes back with two McDonalds bags you’re in front of him before he
even says hi, wrapping your arms around him and pressing your face into his
chest. He laughs, kisses your forehead, then leads you over to the table,
sitting down and shoving one bag over to you. He hands you one of those tiny
cups of orange juice that come with breakfasts at McDonalds and a fork, then
smiles at you.
“Almost like you missed me,” he says, grabbing three of the little packages of
syrup. You look in your bag and find one. Fucker stole some of your syrup, so
you steal it back, and he laughs like he thought you wouldn’t notice. “I was
only out for 10 minutes.”
“Yeah, okay, well, I thought about it and I’m sorry for acting like it was some
huge awful thing that I lost my virginity to you.” It is sort of a huge thing
but it isn’t that awful. “I was just thinking maybe we could get to know each
other,” you pause a second, then add, “or something,” so you don’t sound
overenthusiastic about it.
“Get to know each other?” He shoves a forkful of pancake into his mouth and
continues talking anyway. “Like, date?”
“No! I- I mean, just, get to know each other. Chat and stuff.” You shrug. “I
mean, if we both want to, we can totally date. But, I dunno. Later. Maybe when
I’m older.” You are still only 14 and you highly doubt that your dad would
approve of you dating a thirty-five-year-old. In fact, you’re pretty sure your
dad would literally kill Bro. You’re pretty sure your dad’s gonna kill Bro as
it is, if he finds out what happened.
“Alright, we’ll get to know each other. Learn stuff about each other. I…
guess?” You nod. “Well, okay. Like what?”
“We could start with your actual name.”
***** Chapter 3 *****
Chapter Notes
     i don't think there are any warnings for this chapter either??? yeah
     i dunno. i am pretty sure there aren't.
He tells you that his name is Daniel Brooke Strider. He got 'Bro' from 'Brooke'
and if you ever call him Brooke, he will apparently end your life.
You aren't that scared of hollow threats, so you laugh at him.
"Yeah, laugh it up," he says, reaching across the table to give you a gentle
shove. "My parents called my Brooke until I was, like, 15." You snort. "I was
serious about ending your short life if you ever call me Brooke."
"Yeah, bring it," you laugh. "Why didn't they just make your first name
Brooke?"
"I think they wanted to. My grandparents probably convinced them out of it, I
dunno." He gets another forkful of pancake and shoves it in his mouth. "My
grandparents were the only family that ever called me Dan."
He talks with his mouth full, and you get the feeling that your dad would kick
him out of the kitchen and tell him to go eat in a barn if he wants to chew his
cud.
"So, you know my name. What's yours?"
"Classy. Bang him, then ask his name."
"You know what I mean. Your full name."
"Jonathan Eugene Egbert." He snorts. "Something funny, Brooke?" You ask,
smiling at him in a way that you'd probably call mischievous.
"Nothing at all, Eugene." He can barely get the name out without snickering.
You want to throw your fork at him, but he'd probably throw a whole pancake
back.
"Brooke is still a worse name."
"Worse than Eugene?"
Brooke might not be worse than Eugene. You aren't going to admit that, so you
just shove another bite of pancake in your mouth and glare at him.
"Does Dave know that 'Bro' is short for Brooke?"
"Do you think Dave cares that my middle name is Brooke? I think he'll care more
that your middle name is Eugene."
He has a point. You shrug your shoulders and go back to focusing on your
pancakes.
He's the one to break the silence.
"So, like... What do you even like to do?"
"I dunno," you say in response, even though it's a stupid answer and you
probably could have given a much better one. It's nine in the morning, he
should cut you some slack.
"That's informative."
"Shut up! I like video games. Yours suck, though. I like movies, too."
"Shitty ones," he says, picking up his orange juice and just peeling the foil
off the top. "I like movies, too. Good ones."
"Yeah? Like what?"
"Dude Where's My Car is like a prime example."
"Dude Where's My Car is shit."
He looks like he's personally offended by that. "Dude Where's My Car is
cinematic genius. Also, Ashton Kutcher and Sean William Scott make out. There
is no such thing as a better movie."
You scoff at him and he scoffs right back, but you can't keep the smile off of
your face. You think you might have the beginnings of a crush on him. You're
doing everything so out of order.
"Little Monsters is about a thousand times better," you inform him, forgetting
your pancakes for the moment and folding your arms over your chest. You mean
business, and business is movies.
"No way, kid. You don't actually think that. Please tell me you don't actually
think that." He puts his fork down too and leans across the table a little bit,
looking at you like he thinks you're bullshitting. "Little Monsters. Better
than Dude Where's My Car. You sure you never done any sorta drug before?"
"Tropic Thunder? District 9? Terminator? How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days? You
can't say it's better than Contact. Or Deep Impact. You also can't say it's
better than Reign of Fire."
"Lame, lame, pretty good, chick flick, stupid, really lame, the lamest. Wasn't
most of this shit released right before or right after you were born?" He takes
another drink of his orange juice and looks at you like you're too young to
know about any of these movies.
"No, shut it. All those movies are perfect and so what if they were released
around the time I was born? Doesn't mean I can't think they're awesome!" You
use your fork to flick a drop of syrup at him. It gets on his nose and he gives
you a look. A look that makes sure you know that you've made a mistake. Or, he
thinks you have, anyway.
He pulls off a bit of a pancake and tosses it at you, and you open your mouth
to try and catch it. He laughs at you when you miss, then tries again, this
time aiming for your mouth. You do catch the second piece. Then he mirrors what
you did, flicking syrup at you off of his fork. You toss a syrup-drenched bit
of pancake at him, missing completely, frowning as it hits the floor with a wet
little 'splat'.
"I hope you're cleaning that up," he says, sounding a little too much like your
dad.
"Yeah right," you say it but you're mostly joking. He flips you off and tells
you to clean it up. You get up and go over to the sink, grabbing a cloth and
ignoring the fact that there are fireworks in his garbage disposal. You also
casually open the freezer and reach into the ice maker while he isn't paying
attention. You bend to pick up the bit of pancake that landed on the floor,
then stand, dropping the ice cube down the back of his shirt.
He makes a surprised half-shout, half-scream noise and he's dropping his fork
and turning to stand up, shoving you back against the fridge and making you
snort with a laugh. He eventually manages to fumble around and get the ice cube
out of his shirt (seriously, who actually tucks their shirt into their pants),
and tosses it at you.
You're about to make fun of him when you realize that, at some point, Dave
decided to make his entrance.
You shove Bro back and drop your hands to your sides.
"Hey Dave," you say quickly, coming off as nervous without intending to.
"'Sup." You wonder if he doesn't know. No, that's ridiculous. He has to know.
You never went into his room last night, and you're pretty sure he would've
heard what was going on. He probably would have heard it even if he was three
or four apartments over.
If he did hear, he isn't really showing it. Or caring.
"Uh, not a lot, I guess." He looks exhausted, even though he went to bed
earlier and got up later than you.
"You guys got McDonalds without me?" He gestures to the table, half-finished
pancakes left forgotten for you and Bro screwing around.
You shrug. "You can have the rest of mine." You don't have much of an appetite
anymore. "I don't really want the rest."
Bro goes back to sit down at the table, and you follow, sitting across from
him. Dave sits at the spot next to bro, the one with your pancakes at it.
You wonder when he's gonna say something. If he's gonna say something. He's
just sitting there wolfing down the pancakes you gave him, not saying a word to
you or Bro.
You got yourself ready for what you expected to be, like, a shit storm.
You guess you were wrong.
He finishes his pancakes and asks if you want to go back to his room and play a
game with him on his computer. You shrug and agree, because you're starting to
get a little jittery with Bro and Dave both around. You just want Dave to give
you shit already. This 'silently ignoring what everyone knows happened' thing
is getting under your skin. You wonder if that was the point of it.
As soon as you shut the door to his bedroom behind you, he turns to you.
"Dude," is all he says, but there's so much disapproval in his tone that you
can't help but feel guilty.
"What?"
"Seriously, you know what." You stare at your feet. You know exactly what he's
talking about, you just don't want to admit it. "Why?"
"I don't know!" You look up at him and you can feel your face getting hot. "I
just- it was a mistake." He looks more disapproving than you've ever seen him
before, and you're starting to wonder if maybe it actually was a mistake.
"John." He even tilts his shades down a little bit to stare at you like you've
just... Well, like you've just fucked his brother. "Are you stupid?"
"No! Are you?" You give him a little shove. "I just— things got... Out of
hand?" You raise your hands in a silent question. You don't know what he wants
you to say.
"Dude you were basically screaming. That's, like, the top thing on the list of
things I never need to hear again. Please." You want to hide. Forever.
"Okay, dude, I promise I'll never have sex with your Bro ever again! It wasn't
even— I just—"
"Don't even bring it up," he says, shrugging it off. You think he's shrugging
it off. If it's still bothering him, he isn't showing it. "Ever again. Please."
Maybe he's showing it a little.
"Okay, yeah," you nod. "Never even happened."
You spend the rest of the day in Dave's room with him, and sucker him into
playing the Ghostbusters MMO with you. He complains the entire time (and gets
you and himself slimed about a million times in a row, because he thinks it's
funny) but he still does it. He quits when he gets hungry, then leaves to bug
Bro for food.
You aren't sure if you can face Bro. Not right now, anyway.
Getting to know him and talking to him (and crushing on him, that might have
been a thought you may have entertained) seemed like a good idea when you were
talking to just him. You aren't sure how Dave feels about it, though.
You wonder if crushing on your best friend's older brother is crossing some
invisible line, breaking some unwritten rule that you can't ask about because
it's invisible and unwritten for a reason. You wonder if he's trying really
hard not to be weird about this, but it's really bugging him.
You don't know how long you just lay there in Dave's bed.
Long enough for him to have gone and gotten you and himself Chinese food.
He threatens your life with peanut sauce and you drop the entire container of
sweet and sour sauce on his carpet. He just laughs at you, then tells you if
you don't grab paper towel he'll feed you peanut sauce in your sleep. You flip
him off as you leave the room, grabbing the whole roll of paper towel from the
kitchen.
"What'd you spill?" Bro calls from the living room without turning around.
"Nothing! It's fine," you call back, retreating to Dave's room faster than you
ever have before.
You toss the roll of paper towel at the back of Dave's head when you walk back
in.
"You made me spill it," you tell him. "You clean it up." He rolls his eyes and
shakes his head and resists, but you think he'd rather clean up the sweet and
sour sauce while it's still wet than leave it to dry and get in trouble with
Bro. He does clean it up in the end, tossing the paper towels back at you and
making you go throw them out.
You're almost reluctant to go back to the kitchen, but you do anyway.
It isn't like Bro's mad at you or something.
You're being stupid.
You need to get over it.
You walk out into the kitchen and throw the dirty paper towels into the
garbage, setting the half-used roll of clean ones back where you found them.
Bro is standing at the fridge, and he half turns to you.
"Seriously, what'd you spill?"
"Nothing." He looks at you, skeptical. "Okay," you give in, "Dave made me spill
the sweet and sour sauce."
He rolls his eyes. "I think you're just a klutz."
"Whatever," you say, rolling your eyes right back and trying (with little
success) to keep a little smile off your face.
He shrugs and leaves the kitchen with a piece of pizza he grabbed from the
fridge. You didn't know there was actually food in there. You thought it was
all shitty weapons.
You go back to Dave's room a little less hastily than before, sitting back down
on his bed and stuffing your face with fried rice until you're full.
Dave doesn't bring up the fact that you had sex with his older brother. Neither
do you.
You don't spend a lot of time around Bro for the next few days. Dave doesn't
ask if you want to play Bro's video games unless he knows that Bro isn't at
home, and Bro doesn't bother with asking either of you to play a round of Mario
Party with him (though, to be fair, the last time you all played Mario Party
together it ended in Dave pinching the back of your upper arm because you stole
his star).
After a while, it kind of feels like things (things being the fact that you had
Bro Strider's dick in your ass) have blown over. You don't talk about it. Dave
doesn't talk about it. Bro doesn't even speak to you, and you're pretty sure he
isn't about to bring up what happened.
When you do speak to Bro again, he acts just like he did before the "incident".
You like thinking of it as the incident because that makes it sound more like
something cool out of a movie and less like you let your best friend's brother
plow you into the mattress of his futon.
He teases you and you tease him right back and you tell him that his video
games are lame and he tells you that yours are worse. He beats you in Mad
Snacks, Yo. Or, he says he does. Really, he just got his character lodged in a
garbage can the fastest. You don't think that really counts as winning. He
apparently does. You get into a playful little argument with him about it, and
that ends in you shoving him off the edge of the futon using both feet.
He gets back up and grabs you by the arm, tugging you off the futon, too. Then
he sits back down in your spot.
"Way to add insult to injury!"
"That's just the kind of guy I am, kid. Get used to it."
You flip him off and shove him until he moves out of your spot on his own.
"God, you're fat," you say it with a grin on your face, hoping he takes your
tone as joking.
"You're one to talk," he grins back at you and pats your stomach. You smack his
hand away and flip him off.
"Whatever! I'm shorter than you, that's why i look bigger."
"Nice excuse." After a while of sitting in silence, just grinning at each
other, he speaks up. "Wanna watch a couple movies? Dave's just gonna be locked
up in his room for hours. There's nothing better to do."
You wonder if he'd even be speaking to you if Dave hadn't told you to go hang
out with Bro because he's busy working on a song.
"Only if we can watch good ones."
He scoffs.
"You watch Dude Where's my Car with me and I'll watch one of your lame-ass
movies with you."
You pretend to think about it for a long moment.
"On one condition." He rolls his eyes, and you take that as your cue to
continue with the condition. "You don't call my movies lame anymore. I won't
call Dude Where's my Car lame, and you won't call any of my movies lame. Ever
again."
"No way. How about I don't call any of your movies lame for the remainder of
your visit. You got a lot of lame movies, y'know. I dunno how long I can hold
out, not telling you that Little Monsters is awful."
"Okay, well, if you can only hold out for the rest of the month, same here.
I'll start letting you know that Dude Where's my Car sucks when I go back
home." You laugh.
"Oh, you're assuming we're gonna keep talking when you go back home?" You
aren't totally sure that his tone is joking. "Maybe I'm never ever gonna talk
to you ever again just because you keep saying my favorite movie sucks." Yeah,
okay, he's joking.
"Well same to you!"
He kisses you.
You don't know how he got so close so fast but he's kissing you and you've got
butterflies in your stomach as he wraps his arms around your waist. You shift
to face him a little better and wrap your arms around his neck.
He's the one who pulls away, and you laugh nervously when he does.
"Um..."
"Sorry," he says, ruffling your hair and making you feel a little too young.
"That was..."
"It's fine," you tell him quickly. "What about those movies?" He nods and
stands up, walks over to the DVD rack beside the TV, pulls out his dumb movie,
and sticks it into the DVD player.
You're thankful that you can't really speak to him during the movie. You don't
know what you'd say.
You spend the rest of the day watching movies with him. It doesn't even really
take long for the awkwardness to melt away, but he sits at the opposite end of
the couch and you don't make any moves. All you can think about is how you're
basically a little kid compared to him and he's a grown man and he's probably
gonna find someone better for him by the time you're actually old enough for
any of this to be legal.
You force yourself to stop thinking of it because you're just being kind of
stupid.
It gets easier to talk to Bro after that. Mostly because Dave is usually
around, and Dave fills the awkward moments in the conversation.
You think you'll miss both of them when you have to go home at the end of the
month.
Bro isn't any more of a responsible driver when he drives you back to the
airport so you can go home. He still fucks with Dave, but he fucks with you,
too, until you shout at him to keep his eyes on the road. He snorts at you, but
he listens anyway.
You give Dave a big hug when you have to go past the point where they can go
with you. You aren't sure if you should hug Bro, too, but he ends up deciding
for you when he pulls you into his arms. He gives you a squeeze and a sly
little kiss on the cheek, and you turn and practically run away when he pulls
back because your face feels hot and you're fucking blushing. How big a loser
can you be.
The plane ride is just as long and boring as it was the first time, but that's
no surprise. You end up playing your DS for most of it, but you were lucky
enough to get a window seat so you spend some of the flight staring out the
window.
When you land, you have to admit that you're just as excited to see your dad
again as you were to see Dave at the beginning of the month. You've never been
away from home that long before, so you've missed him kind of a lot. You grab
your luggage and rush out of the baggage claim and basically right into your
dad's arms, because he's waiting right there for you.
He helps you carry your things back to the car, and you're debating with
yourself on whether or not you should talk about Bro.
Logic says no. The fact that you tell your dad everything because he gives good
advice says maybe.
You think that, for now, you're going with logic. Trying to, at the very least.
***** Chapter 4 *****
Chapter Notes
     warnings for this chapter: a metric fuckton of pesterlogs, most of
     them aren't totally posted here because i linked them to a tumblr ahh
     i'm sorry. if you've ever spent any length of time coding pesterlogs
     on ao3 you know why i did this okay. it's like the biggest pain ever.
     but i think that's it??? yes? maybe??
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Your dad takes you out to breakfast, and, unsurprisingly, he convinces you into
ordering way more food than you'd usually even want.
You don't argue it, because you know that it's pretty much futile and you're
eating it whether you like it or not.
"How was your visit with Dave?" He's excited to hear about it, you can see it
in his face. Like the first time you went to an overnight summer camp, or your
first day of school. It's a look that just screams tell me every detail.
"It was great," you tell him, smiling around a mouthful of egg.
"Not with your mouth full, son," he says quietly. "Swallow your food before you
tell me about it."
You swallow your food quickly and then start in on telling your dad about
everything that happened, minus one night and one day, both spent with Bro. You
keep telling yourself that he doesn't need to know and, really, he doesn't, but
that doesn't mean you don't want to talk to him about it.
Talking to him about it wouldn't make anything good happen, though.
Realistically, you'd have to have a death wish to tell your overprotective dad
that the 35-year-old guardian of your best friend took your virginity while you
were both stoned.
You tell him about playing video games and about pulling pranks on Dave (he
snickers and says he's glad you have such a prankable friend) and you tell him
about watching movies with Bro and Dave and you tell him about how much fast
food you've eaten in the past month.
"I'm sure you miss home-cooked meals, hm?" He smiles in his fatherly way.
"For once, yeah!" You laugh. "That doesn't mean cake, though."
He chuckles. "I've got a welcome home cake for you."
"Dad, I'm so full. I don't think I could eat your dumb cake even if I wanted
to."
"You'll eat it," he tells you, reaching over the table to pat your shoulder.
You want to roll your eyes but you manage not to, instead settling for looking
as sad as you can possibly look. He's the one to roll his eyes. "At some point,
you will."
"Fine," you concede, finishing your third egg and starting on your fourth.
By the time you leave the restaurant with your dad, you've eaten four eggs,
four slices of bacon, and two pancakes. You don't think you'll be eating that
cake for quite a while.
The ride home passes in silence because your dad is the type to focus on the
road and need perfect concentration and no distractions, and when you pull into
the driveway your dad opens the trunk of the car for you.
He helps you bring your things up to your room, setting them on your bed.
"Make sure you get unpacked," he says, looking a little bit stern. "I don't
want to come up here later and have your things still packed up. You unpack
before you go on your computer, okay?"
You roll your eyes but agree to do as he asks.
When he's out of your room, you grab your laptop and log into Pesterchum.
-- titaniumTesticles [TT] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] --
TT: Hey kid.
EB: hey.
EB: nice chumhandle.
TT: Thanks, I worked hard on coming up with it.
EB: the sad part is that i actually believe that.
TT: You should. I wouldn't lie to you.
TT: Anyway what's up?
EB: not much i guess.
EB: unpacking mostly.
TT: Did you just get in?
Read_more_→
You wind up finishing your unpacking just as your dad calls you downstairs for
dinner. He made mashed potatoes and meatloaf, which you'd probably make faces
at if you hadn't been eating mostly fast food for the past month.
You spend dinner telling your dad in more detail about the dumb pranks Dave
totally fell for.
"He fell for the bucket of water over the door?" Your dad seems incredulous.
That's something you haven't fallen for since you were a kid.
You nod. "He totally did! He tried to act like he didn't afterwards, but he so
fell for it."
He laughs. "What about his older brother? Did you get him at all?"
You can't deny a little bit of nervousness in your little laugh. "I got him
pretty good a couple times," you say, struggling to come up with a specific
example. You should have just said you didn't get him. It takes you way too
long to say, "I got him to eat toothpaste cookies once."
"The Oreos?" Your dad seems like part of him thinks it's bad and part of him
thinks it's hilarious.
"Yeah! He totally fell for it."
"How much of your toothpaste did you wind up using, John?"
You laugh, then cough to hide it. "Um, all of it. But I promise that at least
half of it got used for my teeth."
Your dad just snorts and shakes his head at you, but he's got a smile on his
face so you're pretty sure he's not pissed off.
"So do I have to pick some up, then?"
"That would be nice."
"I'll go out after dinner."
You nod and smile. "Thanks for dinner, by the way. It's really good."
"You've never complimented my meatloaf in your life, John. Are you sick?"
You both laugh, and you do the dishes with your dad before he leaves, probably
planning to buy about a million more boxes of cake mix along with the
toothpaste you need. You're tempted to tell him how counterproductive that is.
The rest of the summer passes way too quickly, too, and you mostly spend your
time talking to your friends (which includes Bro) or hanging out with your dad.
You're admittedly nervous about starting high school, and it's apparently
obvious, because both Bro and your dad talk to you about it. Your dad just
tells you (about a million times) that high school will be the best four years
of your life, blah blah blah.
Bro is a little more persistent about it.
-- titaniumTesticles [TT] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] --
TT: Hey.
EB: 'sup?
TT: Just wondering if you're nervous.
TT: You said you're going into grade 9, right?
EB: yeah, i'm going into grade 9. no, i'm not nervous.
EB: that's dumb.
EB: why would i be nervous?
TT: Yeah, you're nervous.
TT: What you have to do is learn how to be cool.
EB: oh, and, let me guess.
EB: you're gonna teach me?
TT: You're damn right I am.
Read_more_→
You are pretty sure that his suggestions won't make you cool.
You're pretty sure that nothing Bro Strider could suggest would make you cool,
because you're pretty sure that to teach others how to be cool, you have to
actually be cool yourself.
Still, though, your dad drops you off at school on your first day and pats your
shoulder, wishing you luck. You get lost on your way to homeroom, but manage to
find it with the help of a friend from eighth grade, who happens to share
homeroom with you.
Homeroom and three other classes. You spend most of the day with him, and when
he asks what you did over the summer you tell him that you hung out with some
friends and then you tell him that you lost your virginity.
He seems unsurprised and not exactly impressed.
You're going to thank Bro for the useless, dumb advice.
Your dad picks you up and asks how your day went, and you tell him it went
pretty well. You tell him about your teachers and the people in your classes
and about how your science teacher has a plastic lobster glued to the ceiling
of his classroom just because new students ask about it every year without
fail.
You also tell him that you need money for a student card so you can take books
out of the library and stuff. He tells you that he'll pack it in your lunch
bag, and you pretend that you aren't embarrassed that your dad still packs your
lunch even though you're 14.
As soon as you get home, you head upstairs and get on Pesterchum. Everyone else
always ends up getting home from school before you do, thanks to time zones,
and your friends (or at least Jade) are probably expecting a play by play of
your day, from the time you got to school to the time you got home. You also
have to tell Bro that his advice is dumb.
-- ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering titaniumTesticles [TT] --
EB: your advice sucks, dude.
TT: That's no way to greet the guy who gave you the best advice ever.
EB: yeah whatever.
TT: Did something happen?
EB: haha, no.
EB: people just weren't all impressed or whatever they were supposed to be.
EB: i'm not cooler than i was before.
TT: Lies and slander.
TT: You're a million times cooler now that you've had a ride on the...
EB: don't.
Read_more_→
Neither you nor your dad say much during dinner. You think he can tell that
you're unhappy, but he's unwilling to say anything about it. So are you.
You spend the next couple of months being unsure of whether you should talk to
your dad or not. Bro says no, logic says no, but your curiosity gets the better
of you eventually.
"Dad," you start as you sit down at the dining room table for dinner. "What if
I... liked someone a lot older than me?"
Your dad stares at you for a while, as if trying to figure out who it is you've
got a crush on. "Who?"
"I don't— No one! There's no one. I'm just saying... what if." You shift
uncomfortably in your chair, shoving a spoonful of macaroni into your mouth to
shut yourself up.
"John, that's not just a random 'what if' question. Is it one of your
teachers?" He's prying and you wish you hadn't brought it up at all. Bro was
right, for once.
"Um, it's just— I mean— I don't know, dad, it's no one! I'm just... curious I
guess." You try to make it sound convincing. It kind of doesn't.
"Well, it all depends on how old this person is," he starts, looking like he
has to think carefully about his word choice. "It depends on a lot of things,
John. How old are we talking here?"
"U-um. Mid-thirties, let's say." You're being so obvious. How dumb can you get.
"Mid-thirties, John? She would be very nearly my age."
Your face feels hot and you stare at your food, unable to hold eye contact.
"Yeah, okay, that'd be way old, right?"
"You're 14, son. Why don't you find someone your own age? You'd have more in
common with them than you would with someone in their mid-thirties, goodness.
It would also be many times more legal." He's rambling. "If you got into a
relationship with someone that old, I can't guarantee that I wouldn't want to
report them to the police, John, and neither of us wants that. Trust me. Now,
hey, eat your green beans, I don't care if you don't like them, they're good
for you."
You feel like a child.
It isn't a feeling you like, even if you kind of are one.
You don't say much for the remainder of dinner, and your dad chooses to forget
your question, instead opting to ask about your day. You respond, only because
you don't want him to press you more about who you've got a crush on.
You shouldn't have a crush on him, anyway.
Your dad is right about him being too old for you.
Your dad is also right about pursuing someone your own age, so that's what you
decide to do. You're going to get a girlfriend, and you're going to get out of
your dumb infatuation with Bro.
This is a perfect plan.
You decide to ask a girl out. One that you talk to all the time. Her name is
Emily and while you don't think you have all that much in common with her
outside of enjoying science, she seems like she's fun to be around.
So you catch her at her locker in the morning and ask her if she wants to go
out with you sometime. "Like, to a movie or something."
She looks embarrassed at first, but smiles anyway, nodding. "I'd like that."
You smile back at her, asking if she wants to walk to homeroom together. She
accepts that, too, and even takes your hand in hers as you walk.
You're pretty sure your dad would be really proud that you've got your first
girlfriend.
You push thoughts of that out of your mind, because you're sure that your dad
is going to make sure you know how proud he is of you. All evening. Possibly
with a cake involved.
You meet Emily by her locker again after school, asking if maybe she wants to
go and see a movie on Friday. She nods, then shyly leans in to give you a peck
on the cheek and a quiet "goodbye," before she runs to catch her bus.
Getting over Bro might be easier than you thought it would.
Your dad does, in fact, bake a cake. He also makes you take one to Emily the
next day. She seems to enjoy it, and you tell her that there's a lot more where
that came from. Then you tell her about how ridiculous your dad can get with
the cake, and she laughs. She snorts when she laughs, and it gets you laughing,
too.
By the time Friday rolls around, you've given her a chaste little kiss on the
cheek every day to say goodbye. On Friday, though, you give her a tentative
little kiss on the lips. She lets you, then pulls back and laughs, obviously
embarrassed.
She catches her bus and you catch yours, and you walk over to her house (with
$30 in your pocket) after dinner.
As you're walking to the movie theater, hand-in-hand, she brings up something
you had totally forgotten about.
"Ethan was saying that you told him you lost your virginity over the summer,"
she says, and you can't figure out if she sounds worried or not.
To be totally honest, you had completely forgotten about telling him that. You
didn't think he'd tell anyone. Especially not your new girlfriend. You laugh.
"Haha, uh... Yeah."
"To who?" She tilts her head a little.
"No one you know," you say, shrugging. "It wasn't a big deal. It was kind of a
mistake."
She nods and gives your hand a squeeze. You squeeze back and continue the walk
without much to say. You still don't know if 'mistake' is the right word to
use.
The movie is good, and you think you enjoy it more than she does. You'll have
to let her pick next time. You do get your arm around her, though. When you
walk her back home, you get a kiss, too. You walk back to your own house with a
dumb grin on your face, and you're too hyped up to just go to sleep, so you log
in to Pesterchum again.
-- titaniumTesticles [TT] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] --
TT: Dude. Where have you been?
EB: dude. out.
TT: I was gettin' kinda worried.
TT: Seriously though I found a really good quality download of that movie I
told you about.
TT: The really shitty one.
Read_more_→
You have a feeling you've probably done something really, really wrong by
telling him about Emily.
You have an even greater feeling that no, you haven't done anything wrong,
because you've just told a friend about your day and he overreacted.
You log off pretty soon after Bro does, because he was the only one online
anyway, and then you go to bed.
It isn't any of his business whether or not you have a girlfriend anyway, and
he's being kind of a baby, in your opinion.
-- titaniumTesticles [TT] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] --
TT: Okay, I know you're in bed and stuff.
TT: But I just wanted to tell you I was sorry.
TT: About earlier.
TT: I just didn't expect that I guess.
TT: So yeah.
TT: Sorry.
-- titaniumTesticles [TT] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] --
You sigh at the messages when you wake up in the morning, feeling guilty that
you made Bro feel bad and feeling even more guilty that you got mad at him for
it.
-- ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering titaniumTesticles [TT] --
EB: i'm not mad at you.
EB: just so you know.
EB: even though you're probably still in bed, i guess.
EB: i dunno.
TT: Nah I'm here.
TT: I'm about to leave though.
TT: I didn't think you were mad at me.
TT: I'm still sorry though.
EB: okay well you don't have to be.
EB: i'll talk to you later.
TT: Yeah I'm about to be late for a thing, so.
TT: Yeah.
TT: Later.
TT: Have a good day.
-- titaniumTesticles [TT] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] --
You have the distinct feeling that he's at least a little bit unhappy with you.
Chapter End Notes
     in case anybody doesn't know what john meant by toothpaste cookies
     close to the beginning of this chapter: "Scrape off the filling of a
     few Oreo cookies. Then fill them with white toothpaste. Leave the
     cookies out where somebody can find them." john got bro to eat
     toothpaste cookies. that is all.
***** Chapter 5 *****
Chapter Notes
     wow could this have taken any longer??? probably not, that's the sad
     part. oops. sorry for the long wait! this definitely isn't abandoned
     like at all i just started a new job and it's hard but wow yeah here.
     this thing is. yeah. no warnings for this chapter but if anybody
     wants me to add a warning for a certain things just go ahead and
     ask?? yeah!!! also i did the lazy thing with the pesterlog again.
     live w/ it.
Your communication with Bro is, for the most part, highly awkward.
You think he's jealous but he's unwilling to admit it, and you have no real
reason to ask him or want to know. He has no reason to be jealous, anyway! He's
thirty five, and you're fourteen. You're just starting to like the idea of
dating and people and stuff. He can't fault you for that, it would be unfair!
You do feel kind of bad for the guy, though.
Deep down.
He seems like he actually likes you, at least a little.
You're pretty happy with Emily, though, because she's sweet and pretty and you
have a lot in common with her. She laughs at your jokes and makes jokes of her
own. You have fun with her.
You don't bring her up with Bro again at all. He doesn't, either. You don't
tell him when you're going on dates, even though he knows, and he doesn't ask
you how it went when you get home. That's probably most of the reason why it's
awkward—it's like this big unspoken thing and he knows when you go on dates but
neither of you are willing to say anything about it.
You both manage to ignore it, though, when there's movies to watch.
He shows you Death Factory. Part of it, anyway—he skips the parts that aren't
either porn or people dying, and there is a lot of porn. Sometimes mixed with
people dying. It's gruesome and a little gorey in the way that only a B movie
can be. You almost want to hope that it's intentionally bad, but you have a
sneaking feeling that it isn't.
The best part of the movie is Ron Jeremy. You're pissing yourself laughing
because he's the main credited actor, but he's only shown for five minutes as a
homeless dude in the beginning, and then for about ten seconds as a dead guy
near the end.
It's one of the dumbest movies you've seen in a long time, but you have fun
watching it anyway. Bro tries to pretend he genuinely likes it, and tries to
convince you that it's good ("Better than anything with McConaughey in it. That
sounds like the noise a horse would make. Dumb.") and you try to tell him he's
stupid and has no taste in movies (both true).
Your dad calls you down for dinner before you can really argue your point, so
you try to give Bro an ominous-sounding reply (dad's calling me for dinner.
i'll finish with YOU later.) and head downstairs as quickly as you can because
your dad has this tendency to get impatient quickly and shout for you a million
times and then he starts in with your full name and nobody wants that.
Especially not you.
As you sit down at the dinner table, your dad asks how your day was.
"Boring," you say, shrugging. It's always boring. It's school. If it weren't
boring as hell you'd be a little bit worried.
"Did you learn anything?" You shrug, shake your head. Sure, you probably
learned stuff, but you didn't learn anything hugely important. Otherwise it'd
be something you'd tell your dad about. "You have to have learned something."
Every night with this guy. "I dunno, we didn't really learn that much! It's
almost exam time, we're just doing review and stuff."
"Oh, right, when is your first exam?"
"Um..." You think about it, but you can't remember being given that information
yet. "I dunno. Sometime soon, I guess."
He laughs softly and passes your plate, fork, and knife to you.
"How was your day at work?" You say it while you're sort of stuffing your face,
and you're genuinely surprised when he doesn't give you trouble for talking
with your mouth full.
"It was alright. Uneventful." He has some idea of what good manners are, and
waits until he's finished talking before he starts stuffing his face.
Dinner passes mostly in silence, not because of any tension or anything, but
because it always does.
Your dad speaks up eventually. "Have you thought about your birthday this year
at all?"
"Well, no," you say, entirely confused. "It's February. Why would I?"
"I was thinking about seeing if you'd like to go visit Dave again." This is a
little sudden, you think, because your dad really isn't big on having presents
given early or late. He's also not big on having people know what he's getting
them before he does it.
"It's... still just February, isn't that kinda early?"
"I was thinking about setting it up for March break," he says. "I just need to
know if it's what you want or not."
"Of course I want it," you say quickly, "but that's really early! I mean, my
birthday isn't until April, and—"
"If you'd rather, I wont send you at all," he says, but he's laughing and
you're pretty sure he's joking.
"Rude, dad."
"It's how I am." He smiles and takes another bite of his food. "So, would you
like that, or no?"
"I would," you nod and smile back at him because suddenly you're a lot more
excited about March break. Instead of spending a week playing video games by
yourself, you'll get to spend a week playing video games in the same room as
Dave. What an awesome use of your limited time together.
After you eat dinner, you go back upstairs to tell Dave the awesome news.
-- ectoBiologist [TG] began pestering turntechGodhead [EB] --
EB: dave hey guess what.
TG: you and my bro decided to be in love and bonk forever
EB: what dude ew no.
Read_more_→
You're actually a little bit overexcited because wow going to see Dave again is
really exciting. Bro, too, but mostly Dave. You like Bro and all but Dave's
your best friend. Besides, you've hardly talked to Bro lately. He said he'd be
busy with work for a while.
Regardless, you're excited enough to tell Emily and everything. You sit down
with her at lunch, pulling your sandwich from your backpack and asking her what
she's up to for March break.
"My parents and I are going camping, I guess, even though it's totally gonna be
too cold." You open your mouth to start bragging about how you're going to see
one of your best friends, but she speaks up first. "...Do you maybe wanna come?
They said I could invite someone."
Oh. You hadn't expected that.
"Oh, uh, I'd really love to and all but I'm actually going to visit a friend
who lives kinda far away. Maybe next time?" You can see the disappointment on
her face. Shit, you feel bad.
"Oh, yeah, sure. Next time." She smiles but you actually feel pretty guilty.
It's not like you can put off your visit to Dave, though. That's kind of a
once-a-year-if-you're-really-lucky kind of thing. You can't just blow it off to
go camping with your girlfriend. "Who're you gonna go see?"
"My friend Dave," you say, and you sound really ridiculously excited for it.
"He thinks he's cool but he's not. He's fun to be around, though. I went to see
him last summer, too."
"Well I hope you have fun," she says, and she doesn't seem quite as upset about
you not going camping anymore. Her smile seems more genuine, anyway. "Where'd
you guys meet? If he lives so far away."
"Internet," you take a bite out of your sandwich and swallow before you
continue. "A few years ago, actually. Some forum for a video game he pretends
he doesn't like."
She laughs, doesn't pursue the subject further, just goes back to eating her
food in silence. You glance at the clock and then back at Emily, smiling.
"Wanna walk around for a bit?" You're both finished eating, and that's what you
usually end up doing for most of the lunch break. It's not like there's
anything else to do at school.
She nods and you shove your stuff back into your backpack then slip it onto
your shoulders, taking her hand in yours and smiling at her as she gives yours
a squeeze. The class you have after lunch is one of the few you don't have with
her, so you walk her to her class and kiss her on the cheek before you head
(quickly) to your own.
After that you have a class with her, and then you walk her to her locker, and
then to her bus. You talk about movies that are coming out and about schoolwork
and about video games and you tell her a dumb joke you heard the other day from
Jade, and then kiss her on the cheek again when you have to catch your bus.
The next month or so passes pretty much the same way. You and Emily go out
every Friday night (and you feel like you owe your dad big time for that—he
pays for you and for her almost every time). You talk to your friends whenever
you see them online, and to Bro whenever you see him online. That's sorta
becoming less frequent. It sucks.
You're way too excited on your last day of school before March break. Like,
squirming in your seat sort of excited. Checking your phone for the time and
then looking up at the clock immediately afterwards kind of excited. Texting
Dave a time update every five minutes kind of excited.
When school lets out, you meet Emily at her locker and hug her tight, tell her
you'll miss her, then head out the main doors of your school where your dad is
waiting to pick you up. Your bags are packed and in the backseat of the car,
your dad's got your plane ticket, and you are so out of Washington for a week.
Well. You will be in an hour or two.
Your dad says "I'll miss you, son," about a million times on the way to the
airport, and walks as far as he can with you when you get there and then gives
you a rib-crushing sort of hug. What a big baby. It's only for a week.
When you're in the actual terminal and about to board the plane, you text Dave
again, and tell him you're literally about to get on the plane. Then you tell
him that you're gonna have to turn off your phone for a while. You don't wait
for a reply, just wait for your messages to both send, then turn your phone
off. You think you're just as excited as you were last summer when you got to
go see Dave.
You end up falling asleep on the plane, which is probably better for your
sanity. You have no patience when it comes to travelling, so it's probably a
good thing that travelling usually puts you right to sleep. When you wake up
it's because of the little 'ding' signalling everybody to get their asses back
in their seats and their seatbelts back on, and you hear the pilot say "we're
landing in Houston" and then you're excited again.
When you've landed and you're well off the plane, you turn your phone back on.
This time, you call Dave instead of texting him, because it's not even a long
distance call anymore.
"Hey," he says, and he sounds like he's barely holding his excitement in. That
is to say, he's speaking in his dumb deadpan tone that he always speaks in
because he thinks it makes him cool.
"Wow, you sound so excited," you say, and you roll your eyes at him even though
he can't see you. Not yet, anyway.
"I know. There are all these barely-restrained emotions. I'm literally about to
scream."
"Literally?"
"Literally."
"Okay, well, you being dumb aside, I'm actually here! Like, in Houston and off
the plane and stuff. I'm just waiting at the stupid baggage claim. Are you at
the airport?"
"Yeah, we're here. Me and Bro are outside the gate or whatever. That place they
make people wait for other people. Y'know what I'm talking about."
"Yes. I know what you're talking about. I'll be there in a bit!" You're almost
too excited. "I'll talk to you then."
You hang up your phone and look for your luggage. It's not really that hard to
spot, considering it's this ugly blue thing with a big green slime ghost
keychain hanging off of the handle. You grab it when it passes you, almost drop
it on your foot, and then catch yourself before you fall over, then turn
quickly and speedwalk all the way to the gate.
Dave and Bro are standing there together when you get there, both looking
equally bored and equally cool. That is to say that they both look bored and
not cool at all.
You throw your arms around Dave's shoulders in a tight hug, and he actually
hugs you back and looks genuinely excited when he pulls back.
When you glance at Bro's face he's sort of just looking at you. Awkwardly. You
aren't sure if you should hug him or ignore him. You go for hugging him, and he
seems really surprised, but hugs you back, tight. Squeezes you a little before
you pull away. You shouldn't feel guilty for having a girlfriend. This is
stupid and awkward. Why does he even like you this much? He's just a creepy old
pornographer who's all obsessive over a teenager.
Except he's not because he's actually a pretty sweet guy and you think he just
genuinely really likes you and maybe feels bad that he took your virginity.
If you ever make things this complicated for anybody else, you are going to go
out of your way to build a time machine and you are going to fuck with things
until there's a paradox and things are un-complicated for that person.
Once you're done with your awkward hug, you smile, though you feel like you
might look nervous. It's probably in your head.
"C'mon, I'm done with airports for today."
Dave nods, and so does Bro, so you grab your bag again and let them lead you
out to wherever Bro parked the truck.
He drives just like you remember. Too fast, spends more time messing with Dave
than watching the road, runs red lights and stop signs and stops at green
lights sometimes. You're still pretty sure that your dad would have a heart
attack if he knew how Bro drove with you (and Dave) in the truck, but your dad
will probably never find out. That's probably a really, really good thing.
When you get to their apartment, you're almost a little disappointed to find
the elevator actually working. From the way Dave talks, a working elevator is
an unusual thing, and you'd just managed to convince him into carrying your bag
up the stairs. Whatever, though. The elevator makes things easier for
everybody.
Dave still carries your bag, as if it even matters.
Once you're in their actual apartment, Dave takes your bag right to his bedroom
and then comes back out to flop down on the futon. You join him after a second,
and Bro asks you what you want for dinner. Dave speaks up first, "Chinese
food," and you make a face. The Chinese food places in Dave's area all suck.
Bro shrugs. "Guest's choice."
Yessss.
"Can we get pizza?" Your dad never orders pizza. Literally never. You don't
think you'd ever ordered pizza before you visited Dave. Your dad made homemade
pizza, sure, but he totally refused to order food.
Bro just nods, then grabs the phone. "What kind?"
You feel like you spend forever thinking about it, but eventually make up your
mind and just get pepperoni and extra cheese.
Bro ends up ordering three large pizzas, one for each of you.
Bro and Dave each eat an entire pizza.
Bro and Dave are fucking insane.
You're full after three pieces, and you end up having to maneuver your pizza
into the fridge, jammed between swords and week-old Chinese food containers.
Gross.
After you've all eaten, Dave asks if you want to play some lame game he just
got for Bro's PS3.
Bro cuts in with, "why, yes, Dave, you can use my PS3, thank you for asking,"
and you have to hold back a little snicker.
"Okay, jeez, Bro, can we use your PS3?"
"I said yes."
"Okay, so, John, do you wanna play that game?"
"It's probably stupid," you say, but you grab a controller off the coffee table
anyway. All Dave's games are stupid, unless you picked the game in the first
place. You're used to it by now.
He gets pouty for a second. "It's not stupid, you're stupid."
"Wow, fantastic comeback. Didn't see that one coming at all ever."
"Shut up!" He shoves you gently, and you shove him back, then pin him on the
couch under your full weight. "Christ dude I can't even breathe you're so fat."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah!"
You move to sit right on top of him, his ribs digging into your butt. You are
not fat. There's just more of you to love. And less of Dave. Which doesn't make
sense, considering he just downed a whole pizza and probably still had room for
more.
You play Dave's stupid game with him until late, and Bro alternates between
sitting at his computer desk and doing whatever Bro stuff he does and sitting
next to you on the couch and watching you and Dave play. Eventually, Bro does
have to sleep, so he takes over the futon.
"You guys should go to bed, too," he says, "or be quiet. Your choice."
So you and Dave head back to his bedroom, and you get changed into your pajamas
while Dave brushes his teeth, and then you go brush your teeth while Dave gets
into his pajamas.
When you're both back in his bedroom, he lays down and snuggles under the
covers. You don't get how. It's hot as hell, especially for March, but you
guess that's just Texas weather for you. You make a little bed on the floor out
of blankets and pillows and stuff, and then roll onto your side to face Dave.
"Are we actually sleeping?" You aren't really tired. You did sleep on the
plane, after all. Plus you're just the tiniest bit jet lagged.
"Well, yeah," he says, like it should've been obvious. "The walls are really
thin, he'll hear us talking no matter how quiet we are."
That's probably true. "Lame," you say anyway, "goodnight, I guess." You roll
over onto your other side and reach into your bag for your DS, deciding you'll
just play Pokemon until you're tired. You've got Gastlys to hatch. You'll check
them in the morning. It's only your 20th stupid batch so far. If you don't get
a timid one with at least perfect special attack, HP, and speed IVs and
everything else (except attack, because who really cares about attack on a
Gengar) above 25, you're going to shit. You need the perfect Gengar.
You're actually about ready to give up.
Hatching a hundred Gastlys and having nothing to show for it is tiring.
(You will never actually give up. Only the weak give up.)
The rest of your week passes mostly the same as the first day. You and Dave
don't get up until late afternoon and when you do you just sort of sit around
in his room or in the living room, playing video games and talking about stupid
stuff, pushing each other around and calling each other stupid. You figured Bro
would actually hang out with you, but he doesn't. He kind of goes off and does
his own stuff, and doesn't talk to you much.
Whatever, you guess.
It takes him until almost the end of the week to warm up to you, and he only
even really speaks to you when Dave's gone out to pick up Chinese food (ugh).
"Hey," he says, and he sounds as awkward as you feel.
"Hi." You sound awkward, too. If you were to look up 'awkward' in the
dictionary, the definition would probably be this exact situation.
"How's it goin'?" He leans back on the futon, draping his arms over the back of
it.
"It's, uh. It's goin'. Good, I guess."
"How's school?"
"I'm getting good marks so far," you say, "y'know. In my second semester
classes."
"Yeah," he says, "that's good."
This is the most awkward conversation you've ever had. Maybe. Okay, one of the
most awkward conversations you've ever had.
You nudge him in the stomach with your elbow, maybe trying a little too hard to
make things feel normal again. He laughs, forced, and nudges you back, so you
hit his elbow with yours.
After you've spent a few minutes hitting your elbows together he grabs yours,
pinning your arm behind your back.
"I bet you're ticklish," he says, and you try to keep any sort of expression
off your face because you're actually really ticklish but you don't want him to
know that.
"I am not!"
"Really?" His fingers hover dangerously close to your side. "Because Dave told
me you were." And then he starts tickling you. One hand pins your arms above
your head and the other works on your sides as he moves, pinning you further,
and you're laughing so hard you think you might pee yourself. You try to kick
him but you just sort of kick your legs in the air a few times before giving up
and trying to get your arms free.
God, you hate Bro sometimes. What an ass. Doesn't talk to you all week then
pins you down and tickles you to the point where you're in physical pain from
laughter.
It takes you way too long to get your arms from his grip, but when you do, you
grab him, grabbing at his sides and trying to tickle him right back.
"Good luck," he says, and he's laughing, but it's not because of you. "I'm not
even a little bit ticklish."
"Nowhere?"
"Nowhere."
You don't believe it. There's no way. Nobody's completely unticklish. Besides,
that wouldn't even be fair.
So you move from his sides to his neck, disappointed when all you get is an
eyeroll. You try the backs of his knees, because even Dave gets ticklish there.
Nothing.
"You've gotta be kidding me." You fold your arms over your chest and glare at
him. "You have to be ticklish somewhere."
He shrugs, then starts tickling you again. The noise you make is something you
might call a verbal keysmash, and he just laughs at you as he pins you to the
futon again.
"You're such an ass!" You say it between fits of laughter. "I'm gonna pee oh my
God stop!" You slap at him and kick at him but he's pretty much refusing to let
up. "You think I'm kidding but I'm actually gonna piss my pants and then you're
gonna have to clean it up and— uh." He's stopped tickling you. He's kind of
just looking at you.
You feel your stomach flutter and you watch him lean in and you should really
do something about it but you don't, you just sit there with him almost on top
of you and let him lean in further, watch his eyes close.
Your eyes slip shut and the rational part of your brain is telling you over and
over that you're about to make a big mistake but that is entirely unimportant
right now.
His lips are on yours and they feel just like you remember.
You missed him.
***** Chapter 6 *****
Chapter Notes
     no warnings for this chapter!! i don't think so anyway. ahh just let
     me know if there are warnings you want me to add and stuff as always.
     also i know that the pesterlogs don't work past the first line for
     the same person i've spent literally around 2 and a half hours trying
     to fix it i just can't be bothered anymore gomen.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
You feel a whole lot worse about the whole kissing Bro thing than you want to.
Dave didn't even walk in or anything. You could totally just keep it a secret
between you and Bro, and you're definitely considering it.
But then you think about Emily. You like her a lot, and you really wouldn't
want to see her hurt by your stupid mistake. And then you're beginning to
wonder if it really was a mistake—according to logic, yeah, kissing a 36-year-
old man when you have a really wonderful girlfriend is a mistake, but you don't
know if logic still applies when that same 36-year-old man took your virginity
just under a year ago. Logic probably should have kicked in before you bent
over.
You wish things could just be easy, and you tell Bro that after he's pulled
away, and he makes a face. He tells you he shouldn't have done that, and that
you should just be happy with your girlfriend.
You just aren't sure if that's what you want, either. Well, it's what you want,
of course—you want to be happy, you want Emily to be happy, you want Bro to be
happy. It's just that you're starting to feel like you have to decide between
making Emily happy and making Bro happy, and it's not a decision you wanted to
make. You're a little worried. You could make one of them happy, or you could
try too hard and end up making neither of them happy. If you try too hard
you'll probably end up making them both unhappy, and that's the exact opposite
of what you want.
The choice should be really obvious, though. Bro is 36 years old. You've got
things in common with him, sure, but he's 21 years older than you. When you
were born he was raising a child. He's got a whole lot more experience in the
world than you do. Having a relationship with him (especially considering
you've already had sex with him) would probably be considered really illegal.
Your dad would kill him.
You should just stay with Emily, because you do care about her. You like being
with her.
Problem solved.
Sorta.
You still feel really guilty and you avoid making eye contact with Bro for the
rest of your last day and a half at the apartment, and you don't even really
say goodbye to him when you leave to get on your plane.
Maybe things will be better when you talk to him later on Pesterchum. If you
talk to him later.
You need to stop stressing over this. March break wasn't supposed to stress you
out more.
You wind up sleeping from the moment you get on the plane to the moment you
land in Washington. Nothing like totally messing up your sleep pattern.
When the plane is landing, the lady next to you nudges you and tells you to put
your seat belt on, and you suppose you'd rather have a bit to wake up than
stumble out of the plane half-asleep.
You go to get your luggage once the plane's landed and you're sort of trudging
but if you don't put on a happy face before you see your dad, he'll know
something's up. So you do. You hug your dad and you tell him you had a
wonderful time and he asks if you'd like to go out for dinner and you say yes,
of course you do.
Dinner is good, and your dad doesn't spoil you nearly as badly as he did the
first time you came back from visiting Dave. Mostly because you go out for
pizza, and he just gets a large and tells you you'll take home what you don't
eat and have it for lunch at school.
He asks you the same questions as he did last time, though. How was the plane
down, how was the plane back, how was your visit, was Bro still just as
childish. You must flinch a little at the mention of Bro, because your dad then
asks what's wrong.
"I think... I kinda wanna ask your advice on something, dad. But not here."
He looks a little confused, but ever supportive anyway. He just nods. "I'll
give you advice whenever you need it, son," he says, "all you need to do is
ask."
"I don't really feel hungry anymore," you say. There's no going back now. You
have to ask for advice. You have to tell your dad about you and Bro, and
there's no way to avoid it because you've already told him you need advice and
you're the worst at making things up.
You feel a little sick.
Your dad calls the waiter over and asks him to box up the rest of your pizza
and all you can feel is nervousness, this constant weight pressing down on you.
You feel like you might throw up. Your dad's gonna kill you. Or Bro. Or both of
you.
When you get in the car, pizza box in your lap, your dad asks if you'd like to
talk about it on the way home. All you can really do is shake your head. If you
open your mouth you're just going to scream.
You stay silent through the ride home and immediately retreat to your room to
unpack your bag. Well. Unpack your bag and also log into pesterchum. It feels
so nostalgic. Coming home from Dave's place to immediately talk to Bro.
You feel sicker.
-- ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering titaniumTesticles [TT] --
EB: please be here.
EB: please oh my GOD why aren't you here.
EB: i have never hated a person so much in my life.
EB: i need to talk to you.
EB: i'm gonna die.
EB: bro.
EB: bro bro bro bro bro bro.
EB: bro please.
TT: Can't a guy take a shit around here?
Read_more_→
You have tears in your eyes as you slam your laptop shut, tossing it onto your
bed with maybe just a little too much force. You sniffle and try to rub the
tears away, try to pretend like you aren't crying, but you're pretty sure that
your face is already red. Your dad is going to know, and that's going to make
this about a million times worse.
"John," you hear him call you from downstairs, "didn't you want to speak with
me? I assumed you meant as soon as we got home. Is something the matter?"
You hate your dad's attitude towards everything.
Okay, no, you don't.
You just hate pretty much everything right now and he's not helping. You
sniffle and hiccup and sob while you try to wipe at your eyes and pretend like
you haven't been crying in your room for twenty minutes.
You can do this.
You're just gonna tell your dad the truth.
...Most of the truth.
You aren't going to tell him about the pot you smoked. At all. Ever. Regardless
of how things had went, you'd never ever tell your dad that you had smoked pot.
You're going to tell him that you were fully aware of your actions and fully
consenting and all that good stuff. He can't get mad at Bro then. He can get
mad at you, just not at Bro.
"I'm coming, dad," you call down the stairs and then cross the hall to the
washroom where you grab a washcloth and rub your face with cold water. Then you
put the wash cloth on the side of the sink and head downstairs to talk to your
dad.
"Son," he says, and he sounds absolutely concerned, "are you alright? You look
like you've been crying."
Shit. Shit, shit, shit. He's got this stupid fatherly instinct. No matter how
hard you try to make it look like you didn't just bawl your eyes out, it always
looks like you just bawled your eyes out.
"Um... Dad. I have to tell you something."
This is going to be coming out as gay (bisexual? You have no fucking clue.
Sexual identity is hard. It's hard and nobody understands.) combined with
telling your dad you slept with a 35-year-old.
This is going to be the most difficult conversation of your life.
"Anything, John. I want to help you."
"I like guys." It's the first thing that comes to mind and you just spit it out
before you have a chance to rethink it at all.
He smiles, wide, meaningful. One of his best smiles.
"Is that all?" He seems unsurprised. You aren't sure whether or not you should
be a little offended by that.
"I— Y—yes. Yes. That's all. I'm— I like boys that's all I wanted to tell you do
you still love me dad."
"John," he says, and he's the one who sounds offended. "Of course I love you.
How can I not? Who you love has no bearing on my life, son. I'm so, so proud of
you."
You hate everything right now, but you hate nothing more than you hate
yourself.
You are an idiot.
You go back upstairs after giving your dad a big hug and trying not to start
crying again, and open your laptop to pester Bro, finding his offline messages.
Those start you crying again—he was starting to like you? You wrecked it, but
he was actually starting to like you. You sniffle and wipe your face on your
sleeve and choke out a sob while you try to send him a message.
-- ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering titaniumTesticles [TT] --
EB: i didn't tell him.
EB: so, rest easy and keep hating me or whatever.
-- ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering titaniumTesticles [TT] --
You wait a day for him to say anything else to you.
You go back to school and try to cover up how puffy your eyes are with make up.
(You just get asked why you're wearing make up, and take it off at lunch—then,
after lunch, you get asked why your eyes are so puffy.)
You hang out with Emily a lot and don't tell her about how you kissed Bro. You
want to. The entire thing makes you feel so guilty.
A week passes, and Bro still hasn't said anything to you. You give Emily a kiss
on the lips for the first time, after you take her home after your usual date
on Friday night. It might be partially because you want to make up for kissing
Bro, and only partially because you really want to, but she doesn't really have
to know that.
You're becoming a regular little liar.
Even if you're only lying by omission, it still totally counts. You're such a
jerk. That's all you feel like these days—you're just a jerk and a liar,
nothing else.
Two weeks pass and Bro still hasn't said a word to you.
Dave has kept relatively quiet too, and you can only assume you've pissed them
both off by getting in a fight with Bro and now Dave won't speak to you either.
Three weeks, and it's starting to get really upsetting. People are starting to
notice that you're a little bit off. You're sadder lately, says your dad.
You're quiet lately, says Emily.
It's three days before your birthday when you tell Emily you dont think you and
her should see each other anymore. You feel like shit about it, but you think
you feel shittier about staying with her knowing what you did on your March
break.
You end up making her cry, because you fumble around for a real reason, one
that isn't 'I kissed my best friend's brother'. You almost stutter out 'it's
not you, it's me,' but realize that's a highly insensitive way of breaking up
with somebody. Then, you hesitate for a long time.
She asks you if you're just breaking up with her because you don't like her.
You say no.
She asks you if you're breaking up with her because you found a better
girlfriend.
You say no again.
She asks you if you're leaving her for the lady you lost your virginity to.
You say maybe, and she smacks you, then walks away.
You think you've lost a few friends in the past month, and it's starting to get
tiring.
Emily doesn't speak to you for the remainder of the week. Doesn't even look at
you. Gets her locker moved across the school, even though it's entirely
inconvenient for her. She doesn't even wish you a happy birthday on Facebook.
Bro doesn't wish you a happy birthday, either. Rose does, and Jade does, and a
bunch of people on Facebook do even though you haven't spoken in years. Your
dad makes three separate cakes for the occasion. Dave leaves a few (rather
unenthused) messages.
But no Bro.
It's not until after midnight when he finally speaks to you—it's been exactly
four weeks since you've spoken to or of him.
-- titaniumtesticles [TT] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] --
TT: I miss you.
EB: oh.
EB: i...
EB: thought you kind of
EB: hated me?
Read_more_→
You try not to focus on the fact that bro has an admitted crush on you or
whatever. He's an old man. Can you even call what he gets crushes? You have no
idea how old people work.
You watch his stupid movie with him. It's some B movie with zombies and a
priest and some girl who wants to sleep with him, and at some point a couple of
zombies tear open somebody's stomach, except the gore just makes you laugh
because it's totally just a plastic bag full of fruit punch or something.
After the movie's over, he wishes you a happy birthday, and tells you he's
sorry for disappearing for so long, and reminds you again that he missed you,
and tells you that he won't disappear like that again. You tell him that he
better not, and that you're tired and on your way to bed. He tells you to sleep
well and you tell him to do the same, then close your laptop.
You've had kind of a long day, so you just set your laptop on your bedside
table and roll over to sleep.
You feel kind of bad that you don't like Bro. That you spent a month trying
your best to get over him. You want to like him—but you feel guilty over a
million different things and that's not really helping. You feel bad that you
broke up with Emily, and that you kissed Bro on March break, and that you lied
to your dad about what you wanted to tell him.
You start talking to Bro again after that, though, and Dave, too. Dave doesn't
say anything about how he's barely spoken to you for the past month, but you
don't think you really want to talk about it. You don't want to talk about
anything, you just want things to go back to normal.
You're pretty sure Bro tries to hold back on the flirting because he knows how
you feel about all of it. Not that you'd probably be able to tell flirting from
anything else anyway—you've never really been good at it. It makes you feel
even worse when it seems like he's stopping himself from saying certain things.
Wow, romance is tiring. It's the most tiring thing you've ever experienced. You
want to take a vow of celibacy and never ever speak to anybody cute again. That
would solve every single one of your problems.
Instead, you just try to talk to Bro like nothing has changed, and you keep
talking to Dave like nothing has changed, and you don't even bring any of this
up to Rose or Jade. Emily doesn't speak to you, and it seems like a couple of
your friends from school are avoiding you when you go back on Monday, probably
because of the break-up.
The only person who mentions the whole thing to you is Ethan, and he asks if
you're really going to date some older lady rather than Emily.
"No," you say, frowning. "I was wrong, I'm not gonna date anybody. Dating
sucks."
"Do you mind if I go for Emily?" What a jerk. He knows you and her just broke
up.
"Do what you want," you say, and you come off as being more pissed off than you
actually are, but you don't care too much. Why would he go after Emily now?
That's not fair to her. Or you. He's a douche. You're a douche too. Everybody
is kind of douchey in their own way, but Ethan is like a superdouche.
By the end of the week, Ethan and Emily are actually dating. You guess it
didn't take her long to get over you, but you did break up with her in a really
awful way. You guess you can't really blame her. You still think Ethan is a
douche.
You've also been talking to Bro for most of the week about the possibility of
telling your dad what happened, because you feel really bad that you've been
lying to him for almost a year now.
-- ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering titaniumTesticles [TT] --
EB: i know we got in a huge fight last time we talked about this.
EB: but like... i feel bad lying to my dad, bro.
TT: John, what do you want me to do about it?
Read_more_→
You shut your laptop and decide that yes, you are going to casually approach
your dad about this topic and it's going to go just fine and maybe you won't
have to tell your dad exactly who it was that you lost your virginity to and
maybe Bro won't be in any trouble.
Yes.
This plan will definitely work.
You go downstairs, peeking slowly into the kitchen and eventually walking in,
making a face at your dad as he puts a Betty Crocker box in the recycling bin.
"Now, son," he says, sounding a little stern. "Don't make that face. These
aren't for you, they're for the potluck lunch later this week at work."
"Okay, okay," you say, laughing. "Jeez. Couldn't make stuff from scratch for
them?"
"I haven't got the time for that." He laughs, too, though. You're just glad you
don't have to eat any of the cupcakes he's got in the oven.
"Dad, could I talk to you about something?" Now or never, you suppose.
"Sure you can, son. Anything." He pulls a chair out from the dining table and
sits, gestures for you to do the same. You don't, only because you feel better
when you're standing up and pacing a little than you would if you were sitting
down.
"Okay, well... what if I wasn't a virgin?"
Chapter End Notes
     this is what john was talking about when he was talking about bro
     like-liking him and stealing his shield and stuff.
***** Chapter 7 *****
Your dad looks at you like he doesn't believe that you could possibly be
anything but a virgin. Then he looks, for a moment, like he may be trying to
figure out who you could have lost your virginity to.
"Son, if you aren't a virgin, er... were you at least safe?"
You want to tell him the truth. You really, really do, but you know for a fact
that he will be about a million times more disappointed in you than he already
is if he knows what happened with the condom Bro wanted to use. You've been
thinking about it so much lately that everything seems like it happened just
yesterday, and you remember all sorts of stupid little details. Ugh. You
thought smoking pot was supposed to make you forget things, not remember them.
"Y-yes," you say, but you're a little bit shaky and you feel a little bit
nauseous.
"Was it with Dave?" Oh. Oh god, your dad has assumed the complete wrong thing.
"Because that's perfectly alright! You two are great friends, and you have been
for years—I'm sure that being with him, if you are with him, will only bring
the two of you closer." He's still going. No. No, this is the worst thing ever.
"Am I correct in my assumption, son?"
"N-no, dad, ew," your face feels hot. "It was not Dave, that's so gross."
Your dad laughs at you, then stands and puts a hand on your shoulder. "I
assumed because of your timing in telling me you're attracted to men. Do you
feel comfortable telling me who it was?"
You stare at the floor for a long time. You know that your dad would be so
disappointed in you if you told him the whole story. He'd be disappointed and
probably angry and upset and you really don't want that—but you think he'd be
more disappointed if you avoided telling him than if you just told him now.
"Well, um... it was somebody... older." Maybe you can hint at it and he won't
get exactly who it is. Maybe you can lie.
...No you can't. You're shitty at lying anyway, and even worse at lying to your
dad.
"So it wasn't Dave or Emily. I can't think of who else it could be, son. You've
got me a little stumped. How old?" You stare at your feet.
"A lot old."
When you look up from your feet, you catch your dad's lips twitching into a
frown. "Older than me, son?" He sounds so concerned. You feel like an ass.
"No, not that old, oh my god." Whoops. That was kind of rude, probably. Your
dad just laughs, though.
"Alright, how old, then? You're going to need to help me out here."
"U-um... In their thirties, maybe."
"Johnathan Egbert, who did you sleep with?" He's starting to sound kind of mad.
Oh no. Abort mission. This is not worth it. You need to run away and hide and
never speak of this again.
"Does... does it really matter who?" You chew on your lip and look down at the
floor again.
"Yes," he says, turning away from you and raising his arms. You aren't sure if
that's anger or what. "Yes, it matters, John, because that is highly illegal!
You're fifteen years old! Tell me who it was."
"Why? What're you gonna do?" You're getting kind of scared now. Scared for Bro,
mostly. If your dad grounds you, you'll get over it, but if your dad is
freaking out this badly over it, you're worried for what he'll do to Bro. You
should've just listened to him when he told you not to tell your dad.
"It depends on who this person is," he says, "and how willing they are to stay
far, far away from you."
"Dad, I like him!" Wait. Shit. You hadn't told him it was a man you slept
with—so, now he knows that. "Just— drop it, dad. Please. It doesn't matter who
it was. I don't want him in trouble."
When you look at your dad, you swear you've never seen him look quite so
disappointed in you, and that makes you feel like total shit. He's disappointed
in you. Genuinely disappointed in you. You can't remember the last time he gave
you a look like that—you think it might have been in eighth grade when you
punched a kid in the face. Then, even, he at least knew it was an accident.
Now, you've done something on purpose and disappointed your father and he's
giving you that look, and...
You don't think you can handle this.
You turn and leave the kitchen, grabbing your phone from your bedroom and
locking yourself in the bathroom. You want to talk to bro.
-- ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering titaniumTesticles [TT] --
EB: you were right.
TT: So, I should expect the van in, what, ten minutes?
EB: bro.
TT: What? It's a distinct possibility.
Read_more_→
After taking many deep breaths, trying to make yourself stop crying, you open
the door and look up at your dad.
"John," he says gently, putting his hand on your shoulder. "I love you, and I
will never stop loving you, no matter who you yourself love. You're my son.
That also means that I'm going to do all I can to protect you from people you
shouldn't be around. Whoever took your virginity—he is someone you shouldn't be
around. You're fifteen, and he's in his thirties? And he thought it was okay to
take something as serious and important as your virginity?"
When he puts it like that, Bro sounds like a total creep. You feel guilty for
thinking like that, though.
You want to tell him that it's okay. It's okay, what Bro did. You want to make
excuses, like, it only happened because I was high, and, we were both stoned,
that's why it happened—but you realize that those things aren't excuses. Not at
all. The fact that Bro got you high and then took your virginity actually
probably makes it worse, and even if you don't totally see it that way, you
know your dad well enough to know that he will. You don't want to see it that
way—but that's how it's starting to feel.
"It was an accident," you say softly. It's a weak excuse.
"What, you just slipped and fell, right onto his lap? You just happened to fall
backwards, and your pants happened to not be on at the time?"
You want to yell at your dad for talking to you like you're an idiot. But in
all reality, you kind of are an idiot. You're just a little kid and you don't
know what you're doing and Bro got you high and fucked you, and that makes him
kind of messed up.
"Don't get him in trouble," you say quietly, staring at your mismatched socks.
One has grey on the heel and toes, one is all white.
"Tell me who it is and I'll consider it." His voice is harsh. Angry. You'd
probably be angry, too, in his position.
"Dad, please, he's my friend, and—and I don't want him in trouble." You look up
at him, pleading. Begging him not to give Bro shit like you know he'd want to.
"Please. It'll never happen again," even though it might, "he's not weird or
messed up," even though he is, "I don't want him to end up in jail." That's the
only truth you've told since you started speaking.
"John." He's only getting angrier every time you evade the question. You don't
like this. "Tell me who it is."
"Bro," you say softly, trying not to start bawling again. "It was Bro. Please
don't get him in trouble."
You've never seen your dad so flustered before in your life. His face turns an
angry red, his mouth opening and closing as if he's a fish trying to breathe
dry air. He looks at you, nothing but anger in his eyes, and then turns and
walks away. You hear his bedroom door slam shut and you close the bathroom
door, locking it again because you don't want to deal with your dad when he
comes out of his bedroom.
-- ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering titaniumTesticles [TT] --
EB: i've never seen my dad look angrier about anything before in my life.
TT: Well.
TT: It was nice knowing you.
TT: But he's going to fucking kill me.
EB: :(
EB: i'm sorry.
EB: this is my fault.
TT: Oh my God.
TT: Shut up.
TT: I'm the fucking 35-year-old who thinks it's okay to sleep with a kid.
TT: I'm the fuck up here.
TT: Not you.
TT: Just.
TT: Let me take the fucking blame, John.
-- titaniumTesticles [TT] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] --
You have nothing left that you can say. Nothing you can even do. Bro's angry at
you, your dad's angry at you, Dave's probably never gonna speak to you again
because you're about to get his brother put in jail, and you're being a
complete asshole about it.
You don't want to deal with any of this right now.
So, you don't.
You lay there on the bathroom floor and have a nap instead.
***** Chapter 8 *****
Your dad tells you that you aren't allowed to contact Bro anymore, and Bro's
not allowed to contact you, either. He says he will be checking your chat
history, though he promises not to read your logs.
"You can talk to him once more to explain this," he says, a serious frown on
his face, "but not without supervision."
"Dad," you say quickly, pouting at him. You aren't a child and you don't like
being treated like one. "I can do it without you watching."
"Son." He looks more serious than you've ever seen him before in your life.
"You will not be unsupervised around that man. I refuse to allow it."
You don't argue. It seems like arguing with him at this point is the only thing
that could possibly make him angrier. When you do end up talking to Bro again,
things are... awkward to say the least.
-- ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering titaniumTesticles [TT] --
EB: we can't talk anymore.
TT: What? Why?
EB: my dad said.
TT: You always listen to what daddy says?
Your dad gives you a dirty look at this point, and you wince.
EB: bro...
TT: I just.
EB: please. don't make this harder than it already is.
TT: I'm not trying to make it hard. I'm trying to understand. You can break the
LAW but as soon as he says something is a no-no, you get all 'oh, Bro, sorry, I
have to break your little heart'. Why?
EB: bro.
EB: please.
EB: just.
EB: don't even talk about it.
EB: end the conversation.
EB: say we won't talk anymore.
TT: ...
TT: Fine.
-- titaniumTesticles [TT] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] --
You feel fucking terrible.
You shouldn't feel guilty—you did what was probably best for you—but you hurt
Bro.
Your dad is still frowning, even as he watches you block 'titaniumTesticles'
from pestering you again.
"John," he says, voice sharp. "Would you mind telling me exactly how you broke
the law in this situation?"
Oh, God.
You don't want to have this conversation. Not right now. Not ever, probably,
and especially not with your dad.
"I—" You fumble around for a moment with your words, stuttering. "I just..."
Your dad is going to lose his shit. "I got high with him. That's why we had
sex, b-because I was high." You're fucking babbling now, going on and on like
an idiot, wrecking everything even more than you already had—and you didn't
even think that was possible.
You thought you'd seen your dad angry before. When you first told him about
yourself and Bro, you thought that—his red face, his mouth flapping—was anger.
That was nothing. You have to look away from him to be able to handle it.
"You are grounded," he says, and it seems like an awfully mild punishment. "I
swear, John, that I don't even know you anymore." Then, he says something you
never expected to hear—not from him. "I'm just so disappointed in you, son."
It hits you harder than you expect it to. It hurts. It makes you want to cry.
You disappointed your dad.
He leaves the room, doesn't speak to you for the remainder of the evening.
Doesn't even speak to you in the morning. You go to school feeling like a
zombie, stumbling through the halls and daydreaming through your classes,
fumbling for words when teachers ask questions and nodding when anybody asks if
you're alright. You don't feel like explaining the situation to anybody.
You are the first to break that terrible, tense silence after he gets home from
work.
"Please don't get him in trouble," you say softly, not willing to meet your
dad's eyes.
"The only reason I'm not is because of Dave," he says, "because I don't think
you'd ever forgive me if you were unable to contact him. I don't for one second
think that that man as a capable parent, but as long as he isn't contacting
you, I won't take any action." He crosses his arms over his chest. "Count
yourself lucky."
Then, the tense silence returns. You try to act normal with Jade and Rose
because you still haven't told them about you and Bro. You wouldn't have told
Dave, either, but his knowing is kind of a requirement—he was kind of there.
Your conversations with Dave feel... a little weird.
-- ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] --
EB: how's bro doing?
TG: oh hey john
TG: yeah im fine
TG: nice to talk to you too
TG: yeah
EB: i'm sorry.
TG: its fine
Read_more_→
Once again, your dad doesn't really speak to you. Doesn't even call you down
for dinner. You end up going downstairs at half past eight, making yourself a
sandwich and then retreating back up to your room.
The silence is totally killing you. He's just... quiet and mad. Very, very mad.
Your dad doesn't speak to you a whole lot for the next little while.
When he does, it's been over a week—he's spoken to you a little, yes, but, for
the most part, he's been eating dinner in his study and cleaning dishes once
you're out of the kitchen. He doesn't ask how your day was, he doesn't ask how
your friends are, he just... sits around in silence and is content to let you
stew in your misery.
Well.
No, that's not totally true.
He doesn't want you miserable—he's just... incredibly unhappy with you.
When he does finally speak to you, he has calmed down considerably.
"I apologize, John," he says. "I... overreacted a little."
Your first instinct is to wonder if this means you can talk to Bro again. You
want to ask, and you almost do, but you hold your tongue. That would definitely
be something he doesn't want to hear right at the moment.
"You didn't," you tell him instead, feeling guilt rush back for basically
everything you did with Bro. Your dad spent hundreds to send you to meet your
best friend and you got stoned and slept with your friend's brother. "I just—I
made mistakes."
He seems happy that you're admitting that.
"I'm glad you can see that, son. Still, I did react very strongly."
That's an understatement, you think but don't say. You're glad he can admit
when he's done things wrong. "I shouldn't have done... any of the stuff I did,"
you sigh, staring at your feet. Your dad is much calmer now, but you still
aren't allowed to talk to Bro, and you aren't about to ask whether or not
you'll eventually be allowed to.
You still feel the sting of your dad telling you he was disappointed in you.
"John," he says, his voice gentle as he wraps an arm around your shoulder.
"Everybody has times of experimentation in their lives." You can't tell if he's
talking about drugs or liking men. "I smoked marijuana when I was your
age—everybody did." Oh. Drugs. Your dad used to smoke pot. That's new
information. Whoa. "Experimentation is okay, John. But you need to be safe."
"We were safe!" You think you're at the stage with this lie that you're
starting to believe it yourself. You totally used a condom. Yeah. No unsafe sex
with thirty five year old men for you. Ever. Nope.
"Alright, but it doesn't change Bro's age, and that in and of itself counts as
being unsafe." Your dad's frowning again. This is making you anxious,
actually—all the fighting you did with him over the course of the past month or
so have made you mildly terrified of your dad getting angry with you. It's not
like it's something that happens often. You're just a scared little baby. "If
you'd gotten high with Dave and had sex with him, to be fully honest, I
wouldn't have minded."
That makes you frown right back at him.
"That's not fair!"
"John. Dave's legal guardian got you high and took your virginity. You are
fifteen years old. I am being more than fair. I should be phoning child
protective services."
He has a point.
You sigh.
"Okay."
"I'm sorry, son. It's... something you'll understand someday. When and if you
decide to have children of your own, you're going to want to protect them. I
worry for you, I get scared for you—it's part of being a father. I don't want
you hurt." You've only gotten this speech about a million times. "What were you
hoping for out of your relationship with Bro?"
That was a question you weren't expecting. What did you want? You have to think
about it, and you stay silent for a long time.
Finally, you say, "I wanted him to be my boyfriend, I guess." Eventually. After
you'd turned eighteen or something. Or... just... whenever you decided you
wanted to ask him out. Or whenever he asked you out. You don't know for sure.
You're embarrassed by the words as soon as you say them, though, and you half-
hide your face in your hands.
"I want you to remember something." Your dad has a look on his face of barely
restrained disappointment—or you could be imagining it. You don't know. "Bro is
in his thirties. He's raising a child who is your age. What do you think he
would want out of a partner?" Your dad pauses for a second, then changes his
question. "What do you think any thirty-some year old would want out of a
partner?"
You don't like this line of questioning.
You answer him anyway.
"Um... Maybe someone with a job. Or some money, I guess. Somebody who could...
help pay the bills." These things are hard to admit because you know they don't
apply to you. You're becoming quickly aware that you're far too young for Bro,
and you don't like it. "Maybe someone their own age." After a pause, you add,
"or someone to settle down with." These are all things you think you'll want
when you're that age, and they're all upsetting you. Bro can't settle down with
you, and you can't pay for anything with Bro—you wonder if he wanted to date
you at all, or if he just said that to make you feel better about having sex
with him.
"Exactly," your dad pats you on the shoulder. "How close are you to settling
down? Having a career? Making your own money?"
You really don't like this line of questioning.
Even though you know your dad's not trying to be hurtful, his words still
bother you more than anything else right now.
"Like, six years, probably?" It's a question because you don't know for sure.
You're only fifteen. You can't say with absolute certainty that you'll be
finished with college when you're twenty one—in all likelihood, you probably
won't be.
"Do you think Bro wants somebody who has these things now, or somebody who can
guess that they'll have them in the next ten years?" Your dad is trying to be
gentle, you can hear it in his voice. Still, you feel tears prickling at the
corners of your eyes.
"Now," you say, your voice cracking.
"All I'm trying to do is protect you from getting hurt, John." He rubs your
back, reaching up to wipe a tear away. "I'm worried that if I let this play
out, Bro would expect too much out of such a young boy. He has different needs
than you do. Different wants. Do you understand?"
You nod, sniffling and trying not to sob.
You hate it when your dad is right.
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