John isn't quite sure what happened to lead up to this, and he certainly has no idea how to respond. Is there some sort of social criteria for how to deal with your little brother asking you to show him how to kiss?
Blinking, he realizes Hank is still babbling on, looking incredibly uncomfortable. "It's not that I've never kissed anyone," he stutters, "I sort of kissed Elizabeth back in 7th grade, but I don't think that really counts and also, IwaswonderingwhatkissingaguywouldbelikebecauseIthinkI'mbisexual." The last part comes out in a rush and Hank blushes furiously.
"Okay then," John says slowly, "But why would you come to me?"
Hank's face turns even brighter, disproving John's theory that he'd pass out if any more of his blood rushed to his head. "Well, you're my brother and I know you won't go telling anyone and also..." He trails off and looks away from John.
Hank glowers at a poster on his older brother's wall. "I don't want to talk about it. You'll just laugh."
John raises an eyebrow.
Hank sighs. "First show me how to kiss and then I'll tell you."
"Swear?" John sticks out his pinky and Hank links his with it, the action a memento from when they were younger. "Fine."
Leaning in closer, he presses his lips gently to Hank's, ignoring a tiny jolt of excitement and passing it off as nervousness.
Hank shivers slightly and shifts forward, his nose brushing John's and their glasses tapping together. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realizes that it would have been a good idea to take them off first.
The kiss is awkward and a little uncomfortable, but underneath that it sort of feels... right, if something so blatantly wrong can be right. Somewhat reluctantly, John pulls back, giving a last gentle suck to Hank's lower lip.
Hank's eyes open slowly, and he blinks at John, still close enough that his brother can see every one of his eyelashes, long and full like a girl's.
"Now you have to tell me why you picked me," John says quietly, his voice rasping slightly.
"You'll laugh at me," Hank mutters, pulling his knees up to his chin and hiding his face.
John rolls his eyes. "I swear I won't." When Hank still refuses to raise his head, John reaches over and begins to tickle his brother's ribs. "Come on, just tell me." He hears a poorly muffled giggle, and grins.
As fingers brush up and down along his sides, Hank, struggling to breathe through his laughter, lashes out with a leg and collapses backwards as John pounces on him.
Swinging a leg over to straddle his brother's hips, John pins Hank's hands above his head and smirks down at him. "Ready to tell me yet?"
Hank freezes. No, not now, please not now... "John, get off now."
"Not until you tell me," John responds, still smirking. He shifts slightly, and Hank bites down on his lip, hard.
"Goddamn it John!" Hank hisses, glaring up at his brother, "You really want to know? Fine!" He bucks his hips up sharply. "I like you, okay! I know it's horrible, cuz you're my brother and all, and I know you'll hate me now, but it's true! Now get the fuck off!"
Stunned, John stares at his brother, watching him struggle to free his hands so he can wipe away angry tears. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he releases Hank's wrists and slides off him. When Hank starts to roll off the bed, he grabs his waist and pulls him close.
"You're my brother-" he manages before Hank cuts him off.
"Yeah, I know," Hank mumbles, burying his face in his brother's chest, "But I can't help it."
"You didn't let me finish. You're my brother, and I could never hate you." John ruffles Hank's hair. "Look up for a second." Hank complies, and John continues. "And you want me to tell you something honestly? I kinda like you too." He tilts Hank's head up and kisses him softly.
When they break apart, John grins slightly. "Still want me to get off you?" he asks, "Because, quite frankly, I'd rather get you off."