Chapter Text
He was 16. 16 years and 3/4. He was a man, with chest hair and everything. Well, some chest hair. Okay, minimal chest hair.
Nevertheless, he was a man, and men went after what they wanted.
He stood in one of the many halls of his soon-to-be new home, occasionally glancing up anxiously. He inhaled sharply through his teeth as he felt a sting at his thumb.
Looking down, he saw a small pearl of blood stem from the corner of his nail and immediately raised the finger to his lips, sucking gingerly. Note to self: don't tear skin around nails off completely before Christmas or else your nails might fall off and how would you open your presents then, Egderp.
After several more minutes of impatiently bobbing back and forth on the balls of his feet, he spotted his prey.
"Dave!" He squeaked enthusiastically, waving a hand in the air. He coughed, then repeated himself in a manlier tone. "Uh, Dave."
Dave turned towards him, peering over his sunglasses and giving him an "you talkin' to me?" expression. John nodded vehemently and wagged his finger in a "come hither" motion.
"What up, Egbert?" Dave asked, striding towards him the way only a true Strider could. John's skin tingled a little and his chest tightened as he watched Dave's long legs moving smoothly, one in front of the other. "I'm kind of in the middle of something."
"Oh?" John raised an eyebrow. "What's going on?"
"Nothin' much, just hiding."
"...Hiding?" Dave nodded once. "From who? Or...what?"
Dave shrugged. "I've got this creepy feeling, like Bro is lurking in the shadows somewhere, waiting for an excuse to jump me, pull his anime sword out, and give my ninja-ass a thorough and unironic beatdown."
"Oh..." John nodded, glancing from side to side. He wasn't quite sure if Dave was joking or not -- Dave constantly griped to himself and the others about the strifes with Bro, but they had all assumed he was being ironic or something. John wasn't really sure how strifing with his guardian was ironic, but he assumed Dave knew. Dave knew everything about irony, and everything he did was ironic. "Do you really strife that often?"
Dave tilted his head down, red eyes staring incredulously at John over his trademark shades. "Are you kidding? And it's only gotten worse since TZ came into the picture." Dave straightened up and glanced coolly over his shoulder before turning back to John and continuing. "I think he's having, like...separation anxiety or something? Even though I haven't even gone anywhere. Dude's an anxious mess, and strifing's the only outlet he is. Besides, ya know, the smuppet porn."
"Ah, yeah. That." A neon smuppet ass flashed through John's mind and he shuddered. "Anyway, speaking of TZ...um, how are...things? With her?"
Dave cocked an eyebrow and shrugged. "'Salright."
Damn it. John spoke Strider, and although Dave's response might have seemed indifferent to an outsider, he knew better. Striders were succinct, laconic. And liars. They were very much liars. Dave might as well have jumped up and down squealing in response. It's now or never, Egbert.
Dave flicked his hair to the side. "So, you excited about the wedding?"
"Yeah, totally!" John perked up. This wedding was something he actually had confidence in, unlike this dumb idea he was trying to execute. "I'm just glad Dad found someone, you know? And who would think that when he did, it would be Rose's mom!"
"Speaking of Rose...Last time I checked, she was with TZ, and..." Dave shuddered. "I don't even want to think about their conversation right now."
"Haha." John tried to make his laugh sound natural and not like a dying mouse. "Oh, actually," he feigned surprise as he pointed up above them, towards the mistletoe hanging from the ceiling. "Look at that! Wow, what a surprise."
Dave looked up, tilting his glasses down slightly, as clarity washed over his face.
"Egbert," he said, tilting his eyes down and smirking, "you sly dog."
John ran a hand through the back of his head and turned his head away, trying meekly to hide his grin. He could feel the heat spreading across his cheeks and ending at the tips of his ears. "Well, I --"
"I've gotta find TZ and get her under one of these things!" He sounded much more enthusiastic and...unironic, then he usually did. John's shoulders slumped and his grin faded. He rolled his eyes as dramatically as he could, but the gesture was lost on Dave as he strode quickly down the hall. "Later, Egbert," he called behind him.
John brought his fist to his face, rubbing his knuckles into the bridge of his brow, and let out a loud groan.
"That was precious," said a low voice next to his ear.
John jumped and spun around to see Bro Strider standing beside him, eating a sandwich and wearing the snarkiest grin he had ever seen. Bro looked pretty much the same as he always did: white polo, black jeans, kamina shades, and cap. John ticked the boxes off in his head; the douchebag checklist was complete.
"Where did you come from?" John asked, his heart now pounding. And how much of that did you see?
Bro took another bite, chewing slowly and thoughtfully. "Where did I come from? I am ubiquitous, friend of Dave, and I am surprised that wasn't already clear." He swallowed, and his snarky grin was joined by two waggling eyebrows. "And as for how much I witnessed...well," He leaned back, attention back on his sandwich. "All of it."
"Oh, w-well, I don't know what it looked like, but --"
"What it looked like," Bro interrupted, holding his sandwich over his chest, "was you trying to get your tongue into my dear, sweet, innocent brother's mouth."
"I -- it wasn't...like that! I just..." Who are you kidding? It was exactly like that. He sighed, hanging his head in defeat.
Bro snickered.
"Your accent is obnoxious," John sniped. Bro raised an eyebrow and took another bite.
"I was laughing, you couldn't even hear my accent then. Is that really the best you can come up with?"
Wow, suddenly, John was not in the mood for Strider Bullshit. "Sorry I tried to make a move on your brother, I guess. Good-bye now."
He moved to turn on his heel, but Bro grabbed his arm, holding him in place. John glared up at him. "What?"
Bro shrugged, dropping his arm, still grinning. "Everyone gets rejected, kid --"
"Really, really," John said, waving his arms in the air, "you do not need to do this. I'm fine."
"I can't help but pity you, you're like...a little shota dude, and that is exactly my weak spot."
John made a noise in protest. "I am not shota! I'm 16!"
"Sho-ta."
"I'm a man, and --" John paused, and raised his palms in front of him. "This is stupid. I don't care what you think."
"Dave thinks you're shota."
"Well, he's related to you, so I'm not surprised that his shota-radar or whatEVER is off."
The elder Strider didn't respond, and instead finished his sandwich while staring down at John -- at least, John thought he was looking at him. How could anyone see through those shades? They were practically opaque.
"If that's everything," John said, turning slowly, "I'll just be leaving now."
"John."
He turned enough so he could see Bro pointing towards the ceiling. John looked up, and saw the mistletoe he had tried to use on Dave minutes before. "What -- oh."
Bro had wrapped one hand around John's waist, pulling him close enough so that their torsos were pressed together. The other hand held John's chin in place and tilted it back slightly. John's heart quickened and he could feel Bro's breath hot against his lips.
"Um, Bro --"
Bro's lips cut him off, pressing softly against his, opening and closing against his mouth languidly at first. When John began to respond, he could feel the gusto of his kissing partner building, and the intensity and surprise elicited a small noise from somewhere inside of him which seemed to egg Bro on more. He felt a twinge of Bro's lips as if he was fighting back a smile, and then they were moving quicker and more skillful then John could keep up with, and then oh god there was a tongue pressing against his lips and now it was rubbing against his own and their tongues were touching each other and oh god what is happening.
Before he could catch up, Bro had pulled away and John was left in a daze. Reality snapped back in to place when Bro pinched his ass (just how long had his hand been there and why hand't John noticed before).
John let out a heavy breath. "Oh...my god."
"To make up for what you missed out on with my brother." Bro pulled his arms back to his sides, putting a hand in his pocket. "Although to be fair, there is no way in hell the little dude is half as talented as I am in the tongue department."
"Uuhhh...Ok..."
"Now if you'll excuse me, there is a mini Strider somewhere in this house who is just begging for a beatdown." Bro tilted his shades down and winked. "See you around, little shota dude." He turned and flash-stepped down the hall. John heard a "Separation anxiety, my ass!" in the distance.
He wasn't sure how long he was standing there, but eventually he put all of his weight against the wall closest to him and slowly slid down, ending up with his knees tucked under his chin.
"What the hell just happened?"