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A Good Scotch

Chapter Text

Mr. Egbert was a normal enough man with simple pleasures. He enjoyed fine tobacco, a mature scotch, and classic films. He didn’t consider himself refined, as such, but he was most certainly higher brow than most of the other people that lived around him - not that he really cared to pass judgement on others.

He certainly thought himself a little more classy than the other single fathers he had crossed paths with. He did not get drunk every night, he did not gamble and he most certainly did not traipse women into the family home at 3am. Again, he did not judge those men, he just thought that perhaps there were certain ways to act around young men, and exposing his son to such behaviour was not something he desired to do.

Ah, his son. His pride and glory. His little John. He supported his son in everything he did. He encouraged him to excel, without being too pushy. When John had taken a shine to harlequins, he had noted this and gone out of his way to purchase only the best ones for him. When he had decided to embrace his prankster nature, Mr. Egbert had gone along with the amateur pranks and given John time to evolve into his own pranking ways instead of enforcing his owns. Did it disappoint him that his son proffered to prank with baked goods rather than shaving cream? Perhaps a little, but at least this way, they were in completely different leagues.

However, when his son had brought home a new friend who had transferred, he couldn’t help but he slightly concerned. The boy wasn’t someone he thought John should hang around with. Hell, for a moment, he wasn’t sure why this new boy was actually talking to his son. He knew his John was hardly the most dapper of fellows and this new boy was... well, he was certainly a stylish young man.

He had been polite though, despite how rude the new boy was. He insisted on keeping his sunglasses on in the house, and even at the dinner table! And his language was as colourful as the harlequins he bought for John. That would not do. Thankfully, though, he had taught John better and his son knew better than to drop the ‘f’ bomb.

It soon became clear that the new boy was called Dave, and his shades were some kind of ironic gesture. That was what Dave said, anyway, and Mr. Egbert couldn’t help but wonder if the child even knew what that word meant. However, he had held his tongue. After all, teenage boys were impressionable and he had probably picked his behaviour up off the television or the internet.

Despite the fact he kept quiet about the boy’s behaviour in front of him, he did make a mental note to inform his parents upon their arrival to collect him. That would be the best route to take - a nice, neat, mature, indirect one. He wasn’t too fond of confrontation, after all, and he didn’t want John being upset at him because he had chastised his new friend.

So when the doorbell rang at 9pm (which was awfully late for a school night, but he didn’t want to embarrass John by pointing out that it was getting closer to his bedtime. One night would hardly do much harm), he had switched off his television and rushed to the door. He had thought out an entire speech. It was worded correctly as to not cause offense, but also worded strongly enough to get his point across. He was certain that Dave’s parents would be reasonable.

However, as he opened the door, all his words were lost. He was greeted by a cloud of cheap cigarette smoke, and once he had waved that from his face, his eyes fell upon a tall (no, a very tall) man. He could already tell that he was something to do with Dave, the sunglasses gave that away for certain. However, he was much too young to be a father, unless he had been very young at the time of conception. He would have guessed about thirty, which judging by Dave’s age, would have put him at the seventeen or eighteen mark... It was possible. Perhaps he just looked young for his age, after all, his attire threw Mr. Egbert off a little. A white polo shirt and black sweatpants? He would never been seen outside of his own bedroom in such a thing, let alone outside.

“Sup, I’m here for a dorky kid with sunglasses. Really fucking annoying?” The man said, taking another drag of his cigarette. “Sorry if he’s fucked your shit up, yo. I’ll give him an ass kicking later for it if you want but don’t go expecting no money from me cause I don’t got it.”

Mr. Egbert was in shock. It was now perfectly clear why Dave was the way he was. This man was clearly the kid’s role model, and not a very good one from what he could tell.

He didn’t even get a chance to speak before Dave pushed past him rudely and started walking down the path. He glanced at the older Strider and despite his shades, he could have sworn he saw a wink before he followed suit and disappeared.

And whilst the meeting may have been brief, it left a lasting impression on him.


“So what the fuck did you and Egderp get up to?” Bro asked as he started up his pickup, the engine grumbling to life, much like himself on a morning. He didn’t care to get it repaired though and he didn’t care to buy a new one. He had enough money to, it’s just, the irony of the shitty car was beautiful.

“Nothing much. The usual shit,” Dave mumbled, looking out of the window.

Nodding, he put all his attention back on the road. He didn’t care much for talking; not with kids anyway. It wasn’t that he lacked interest in Dave’s life, he just figured that if Dave wanted to go into detail, he would have. Since he didn’t, he either had nothing to say or wanted to keep it to himself and Bro was perfectly fine with that.

The silence remained until they were back at their home. It really had nothing on the previous place in Texas. It was so much larger than he was used to. He didn’t seem to have enough furniture to fill the place after he moved his own personal things into his own bedroom. The layout of the apartment wasn’t dissimilar. There was still an open plan space with a kitchen area as the main room, however, this time he and Dave both had their own rooms. The only thing he actually preferred about the place was the fact that the bathroom was much larger and he no longer tripped over the toilet when getting out of the shower. That was a definite plus.

And not to mention the fact the rent was cheaper. Much cheaper.

“So you want some fucking pizza, kid?” Bro asked, kicking off his shoes before he pulled out his phone, his finger hovering over the number 1. Pizza was always the first speed dial number.

“Nah, Egbert fed me up real good. Gave me meat and vegetables and all that kind of shit. I’m just going to go on my computer and edit some tunes,” Dave muttered, already at his own bedroom door.

“Right...” Bro said quietly, watching Dave. He went to speak, only before he even could, Dave had shut his door. Sighing heavily, he closed his phone. “Remember to do your homework,” he said in a louder voice, knowing full well that Dave probably already had his headphones on.

Trudging over to the fridge, he opened it, narrowly avoiding the swords that inevitably fell out, before he took hold of some left over Chinese and flashstepped into his own room, sitting on the edge of the bed with the tatty white box. He glanced over at Lil’ Cal, taking out the chopsticks jammed into the food. “Just me and you tonight, dude,” he muttered, looking down at the noodles. “You wanna watch Marley and Me?”

Chapter Text

Thoughts of the Striders plagued him all hours of every day. He just could not get either of them out of his head. Dave clearly needed someone more mature in his life and that older Strider, well... Again, he did not like to pass judgement but he was finding it increasingly difficult not to.

No, he would refrain from doing so until he at least had some more information on the matter. Although, he was unsure as to where to obtain such information. He had tried to Google the man, but he did not know anything more than his last name and a simple search of ‘Bro Strider’ (as he had heard Dave refer to him as such) had returned some very confusing results about puppets. That must have been some kind of term he didn’t understand, but judging from the website, he truly did not care to understand it either.

He decided the only way to get information about them would be to ask John. So, knocking on his son’s door, he stepped inside, smiling as he noticed John was looking at the dictionary on his computer. It was strange how he was always looking at that website, and yet his vocabulary never expanded much. Still, he was not going to shout at him about it. Some children were just slow learners.

“Son, I wish to have a conversation with you about your friend,” he started, moving over to the window, opening it before he took his pipe out. “The young Strider. Actually, no, that is not correct. I suppose I wish to talk about the older one.”

John turned around, tilting his head curiously. “Mr. Strider? Why would you want to talk about him?”

Mr. Egbert reached into his blazer, pulling out his pipe and tapping it against the windowsill. “Well, I would just like to know a few things about him. What is he like, for instance?” He wasn’t entirely sure what he wanted to know. He was just curious about... everything.

“Well, um, he’s really tall?” John started, “He moves really fast and... I don’t really know much about him to be honest with you. He lives with Dave. He stays in his room whenever I’m over there and he only comes out to pay the pizza delivery man. He calls me Egderp sometimes.”

“Egderp?” He chuckled a little, striking a match and holding it against the end of his pipe, inhaling deeply. “Is he Dave’s father?” He asked, exhaling smoke, waving his hand a little to put out the match. “Or his older brother?”

John shrugged. “Dave calls him Bro. I assumed he was his brother. He’s never talked about his parents or anything. Well, I did once try to bring it up, but he just changed the subject and told me to drink some funky tasting apple juice. I think their parents are dead or something. Bro pays the bills, as far as I know. I mean, he moved here to save money and get a job that his friend set him up with.”

He raised an eyebrow. Ah, the older Strider was a working man? He could picture him now. A real working class man. Probably a mechanic of sorts. Sweating over an engine all day, coming home covered in oil... wait, why was he thinking about him like that? He shook his head. What a strange thing to think about.

John continued. “Um, he works in a coffee shop? Dave said that he also runs a website but because of illegal downloading or something, he hasn’t been doing too great. That’s why they moved here. Apparently, living in a big city is really expensive! Oh, he also DJs! I’ve heard him from Dave’s room. He’s really good!”

Mr. Egbert took a moment to process what his son was saying. A barista? He had not imagined that at all. The disc jockey thing though, yes, he could imagine that. Although the website brought him back to his Google search prior the conversation. No, a guardian of a young boy would never run such a thing. Perhaps the aforementioned website was associated with his music?

“They’re not poor or anything. Dave just says that Bro is kinda stingy with money when it comes to things other than electronics. Like, they have a massive flat screen tv, way bigger than ours! But their car is a piece of trash, although I kinda think that’s his irony thing again,” John mumbled, slowly turning back around to his computer.

“I see,” he said quietly, puffing on his pipe slightly, making sure to stay near the window. “Strange choice though, Washington.”

John nodded, clicking his mouse and typing. “Yeah, but Dave said Bro had connections here or something. Some childhood friend lived here at one point. Not really sure on the details of that. You should ask him yourself if you’re so interested.” He glanced over his shoulder, smiling. “I never thought you were one for gossip! Why do you want the dirt on the Strider family?”

“No reason. I just want to know what kind of people my boy is staying with and such,” he mumbled, reaching up to adjust his hat. “I have a right to know.”

“You know, dad, when you say things like that, you sound kinda mean. They’re just people. They aren’t a certain kind of person. It’s not like they’re part of a cult or something. I know they may seem a little rude and junk, but, they’re not bad people. They’re just...” He shrugged, looking down. “They’re just different. Dave is my best friend though, so don’t make me stop seeing him just because you decided you didn’t like his brother from that one minute meeting.”

He looked slightly taken aback. Had it really come off like that? He had only been curious... although now that he thought about it, maybe he had been hinting at such a thing. “Now, son. I didn’t mean for it to sound like I was attacking you or the Strider family. I just do worry about you and I only want what’s best for you. I never said I would stop you from spending time with Dave.”

John folded his arms, pouting ever so slightly. “It seemed like you were getting at that. He’s the best thing that has ever happened to me! He’s so cool and now that I have him, no one picks on me at school! So what if he swears and wears weird clothes, he’s still my buddy. Why don’t you take the time to get to know his brother if you’re that worried? He smokes. You smoke. Get together and talk about that! I’m sure he drinks too. You can be his friend and I’ll be Dave’s friend and then you know...” His voice went a little small. “Then maybe I can spend more time with him.”

Mr. Egbert regarded him for a moment. It almost sounded as though his son wanted him to date the older Strider. Shaking his head, he tapped his pipe out of the window before returning it to his pocket. “I doubt we have much in common beside smoking and drinking, and those two things are hardly something to build a friendship on,” he started, watching as John’s face went from looking content to disappointed to almost upset. He was not going to upset his son because he would not try to get to know someone. “But... I can try my best. He may not want to be around an old man like me, though, so I make no promises. I shall invite him over for dinner. We can eat together.”

John’s expression suddenly lit up. “Really?! Oh man, oh man! That would be awesome! Then Dave can stay over and we can have a slumber party! Not... like, you and Bro too. That would be incredibly awkward.”

“I can set up the guest room for him if he desires to stay over too,” he said, smiling slightly. He didn’t point out that he was pretty confident that the older Strider had no wish to stay over. Whilst he didn’t know anything about the man, he could tell he probably wasn’t one for sleepovers.



“Wait, wait wait, you did what?”

“I got my dad to agree to have you and Bro both over for dinner!”

Dave stared blankly at John, his jaw hanging open slightly. Either his friend was a moron or...Actually there was no either and there was no or. His friend was a moron. “Why the fuck would you do that?”

“Um, well, I thought that if Bro and my dad became friends then we could see more of each other and... stuff...” He shuffled from side to side, looking down.

“Wow, that sounds very heterosexual of you, John, but your homosexual tendencies aside, do you realise what you have done? This is like the fucking apocalypse. Hear that?” He raised his hand, cupping his ear. “That’s the fucking sound of the four horsemen. Shit, do you not know about Bro? How could you think this was remotely a good idea?!”

John looked up at Dave, chewing his lower lip. “Well, I guess I didn’t really think that much about it... It’s just, my dad was asking questions that I couldn’t answer and I figured he could just, you know, ask Bro himself...”

Dave adjusted the bag on his back, shaking his head slowly. “Look, no offense, John, but your dad is a total square. My Bro is the definition of cool. Your dad won’t understand him. I mean, fuck, he owns a puppet porn empire and likes Japanese anime. Not even in an ironic way. He genuinely enjoys Sailor Moon and Cardcaptor Sakura.” He shuddered a little as he recalled the moment he had called it Cardcaptors... Man, he had received an ass kicking for that.

“I don’t think Bro is going to just tell my dad he runs that kind of website. Besides, Bro will probably just assume my dad is computer illiterate and just stay clear of that whole... awkwardness.”

“You clearly do not know Bro,” Dave muttered.

“You’re right, I actually don’t know him at all! That’s why my dad wants to meet him because he doesn’t trust him or something!”

Dave sighed heavily, rubbing the bridge of his nose without removing his sunglasses. “Ain’t like Bro knows your dad, yet he allows me to go over there and all that shit. Even if he does constantly make jokes about the Stepford Wives or some shit. He thinks your mom is going to all up and kill me.”

John raised an eyebrow, laughing. “But I don’t even have a mom. My dad is my mommy.”

“Again, you always sound so heterosexual,” Dave commented, chuckling a little. “He don’t know that though, anyway. He don’t care much to ask about you other than ‘Are his teeth really that big?’ and ‘So you’re actually serious about being friends with him?’” He paused for a moment, recalling something Bro had said. “Actually, he had a new one last night. He said your dad was pretty hot for an old dude. Said he looked like Humphrey Bogart.”

“Who the hell is that?” John asked as they started walking.

“I have no fucking idea.”

Chapter Text

After spending most of his afternoon slaving over a hot stove, the dinner was finally ready. John had returned home from school at his usual time, his best friend in tow, and had informed him that the older Strider would join them later in the evening at the time Mr. Egbert had decided for their dinner.

He put all the dishes, with the exception of the dessert, in the oven on a low temperature, just enough to keep them warm. The dessert, on the other hand, sat on a cake stand on the kitchen counter. It had yet to be frosted, but that would be done at the last minute. He disliked stale frosting, and he was sure that the Striders probably felt the same.

Taking off his apron, he looked down at his attire. No, it would not do. He had been working in the morning, and his clothes just reeked of the office (and now several foods, but the main thing he could smell was photocopier toner). He quickly absconded to his own bedroom, pulling his tie and shirt off before he busied himself in his wardrobe. None of his clothes were suitable for the dinner. All he owned were plain shirts. He didn’t even own a t-shirt, aside from the one he had received as a gag gift at work. He doubted a t-shirt stating that he was ‘FBI: Female Body Inspector’ would be suitable for such an occasion. Sighing a little he pulled out a black shirt and pulled it on, buttoning it up.

He stared at himself in the mirror. The top button remained undone. Yes, that was more... no no. He shook his head, reaching in and pulling out a grey tie, slinging it round his neck before he tied it and smoothed out his clothes. All black except for the tie. It was hardly a striking combination, but it was different from his usual attire. At least John couldn’t criticise him for not making an effort.

Moving to his dresser, he splashed on a small amount of cologne before he glanced at his face in the mirror. He was getting old, he knew that much. Winkles at the corners of his eyes; lines on his forehead. His face was getting ‘character’ as the ladies at his office would say. He knew that if he was a woman, they would just say he was turning into an old hag. At least his hair wasn’t going thin like so many other men his age. It was simply greying around the sides. As for his body, well yes, it was getting a little loose in some places but it was hardly any cause for concern just yet.

He moved over to his hatstand and plucked off a black fedora, placing it on his head. He knew it was rude to wear one indoors, but he couldn’t help it. And, he reasoned,if the Striders could wear their sunglasses, he could wear his hat.


Mr. Egbert had been frosting his freshly baked cake when Bro had knocked the door. He had placed the finishing touches to his cake before he hurried to the door, apron still on, and answered it with a polite smile on his face. “Good evening, Mr. Strider. I’m glad you made it.” He looked down at his watch before looking back at the other man. “And early too. I’m surprised.”

Bro could only roll his eyes, pushing past rudely to step into the house, before he replied. “Yeah, well, this shit seemed like a big deal to Dave so I thought I should turn up. I hope you don’t mind that I bypassed the tux” he muttered, gesturing to Dad’s outfit. “Dave didn’t say it was a posh affair. He just said I had to fucking attend.”

“Oh, no. This is just my normal attire. What you are wearing is just fine,” he said with a sickeningly nice tone, pushing the door shut before he wiped his hands on his apron, offering one to the other man.

“Nice apron,” Bro sneered before he slapped the hand offered, turning around to look at the room. “So, this is what ‘normal’ looks like?” He asked, looking back at Dad. “This is the house behind the white picket fence. This is...” He laughed slightly, making Mr. Egbert feel a little uneasy. “This is fucking weird as fuck. I expect some Jane Jetson to come walking out with little Astro any moment now.”

Regarding him for a moment, he sighed and started walking back towards the kitchen, not even dignifying Bro with a response to anything he said. “Make yourself at home. Dinner is almost ready,” he muttered. Maybe the man had just had a long day at work. Maybe his sarcasm was a way of letting off steam. He wouldn’t let such comments annoy him tonight. He would behave and treat Mr. Strider with respect. He glanced over his shoulder, his eye twitching as he saw Bro dancing around the room, wielding one of his brass fireplace pokers. Maybe this really was just one big mistake.


“So then Dave just started pouring all the chemicals together into the beaker, and I told him to stop but I really didn’t make any effort to physically stop him and they all mixed together real quickly and then everything just started bubbling and the beaker exploded and completely ruined the tabletop and we got detention but it was so worth it just to see that look on Mr. Droog’s face.”

John had been talking most of the time and Dad had failed to stop him. After all, it was giving him time to plan out what he wished to say. He had been observing the older Strider slyly. He had watched him help himself to a more than generous serving of food, and he had watched him completely inhale everything on his plate. How did he keep such a trim figure? He would ask him if he worked out, of course. That would be a good place to start. However, he first had something to ask his son.

“You received a detention?”

John suddenly went silent and looked down at his plate, nodding. “Yes, dad, but it was-”

“No ifs and no buts, son. Detentions are not something to be lightly overlooked. They go on your permanent record and will follow you around for the rest of your life.”

This had normally been enough to stop John from getting into trouble. It wasn’t that he used fear to raise his son, it was just that scare tactics often worked well with youngsters. This would be enough to stop him from getting into trouble again any time soon. However, he hadn’t counted on what happened next.

Bro cleared his throat, belching a little as he patted his chest. “What a load of bullshit,” he spat, reaching up to pick his teeth. “Don’t listen to your old man, he don’t know shit. That crap only follows you around whilst you’re in highschool. Detentions don’t mean shit in the real world. When you’re all up and applying for college, they ain’t gunna reject you because you blew up a beaker when you were thirteen, kid.”

Dad narrowed his eyes. He did not like someone undermining him like that, and he could not stop himself from muttering, “Oh, and I’m sure you know all about college.”

“Yo, what was that, Egbert? Didn’t quite hear you there,” Bro said flatly, staring over at him from behind his shades.

Of course he had heard that. The man was young. He didn’t have anything wrong with his hearing. He probably didn’t have anything wrong with his eyesight either, despite the glasses. He kept his frown on his face as he spoke. “Nothing. It was nothing. I am just pointing out that to know about the process of a college application, one must have gone to college. That is all.”

Bro scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Nah, you have to have applied. I applied. I got in. I had a list of detentions from the sole of my foot to my waxed asshole. Don’t mean I attended shit, but I was accepted. You’re a fucking judgemental little bitch, ain’t you? You thinking that just because I ain’t a dignified gentleman like yourself, I ain’t intelligent. Well, you know what, I’m probably the smartest person in this fucking room. You don’t know me, Egbert.”

He had expected the younger male to stand up and leave, but apparently, from the way his eyes moved onto the cake on the counter, his interest in dessert was far greater than his need to make himself look like a big man. He could respect that. It would have been childish to leave in a huff just because he may have implied that perhaps Bro lacked brain cells. Although, Mr. Egbert knew that anyone could really get into college. He would perhaps continue this conversation later when his son was not watching with a shocked expression on his face.

Silence loomed in the air as he stood up and collected their plates. No one said anything and he didn’t even chastise Bro as he took out a cigarette and lit it, flicking his ashes into the vase in the centre of the table. Cutting up the cake, he made sure to give the older Strider a more than generous slice to silently apologise for his assumption.

“So, Mr. Strider, will you be staying with us tonight? I have set up the guest room for you,” he asked, placing a small piece of cake in his mouth. Not even Betty Crocker could have made a more delicious cake. It was so moist...

“Depends on whether or not you’re going to let me finish off the rest of this bitching cake. It’s wetter than my girlfriend was on prom night, yo,” he said, nodding and smirking a little.

“Bro!” Dave yelled. “I told you to fucking behave and not say that kind of shit!”

“What?” Bro chuckled, raising his hands defensively. “Look, it’s obviously a joke.” He paused a moment, glancing over at Dad. “I didn’t even go to my prom... I stayed at home and blew my boyfriend.”

Mr. Egbert choked a little on the contents of his mouth as he heard that. That was certainly something he had not expected to come from the older Strider’s mouth. However, he was skeptical to believe anything he had to say and had been taking most of what he had already said with a pinch of salt.

“Seriously, Bro, why you gotta be such a dick?” Dave grumbled, throwing down his fork and kicking his chair back as he got to his feet. “I told you to fucking behave tonight!”

Bro smirked a little across the table, pushing another piece of cake between his lips. “Look, kid, I did what you said. I kept the information about my puppet porn empire to myself, I didn’t mention anything about the fact we have sword fights on the top of our high rise apartment and I also didn’t talk about weed, beer or the fact that once you walked in on me in the shower and didn’t look away straight away,” he said blandly, chewing his cake.

“Seriously, can’t you act like a normal fucking human being for once in your damn life? No one wants to hear about you blowing dudes! Or puppets! Or any sick shit you insist on churning out on a fucking regular basis!”

Dad could only watch in horror. The amount of expletives used in the last few sentences had been shocking. And for Bro to be speaking with his mouth full... He could only catch small pieces of what either male was saying and before he could try to neutralise the situation, Dave had stormed out of the room and his son had quickly followed and he was left alone with the older man.

Looking down at his cake, he wondered exactly what to say or do. Was he supposed to follow? No, probably not. He did consider just getting up to clean away the cake dishes, but he had yet to finish his own dessert and every mouthful was like heaven... He couldn’t just leave a cake like that. That and he really did not like to be rude. Strider had yet to finish his cake, and from the way he was lounging around in his chair, he didn’t look like he was going anywhere soon either.

“So...puppet porn empire?” He finally asked, breaking the silence.

Bro swallowed the cake in his mouth as he nodded. “Yeah, for $30 a month, you can access hardcore puppet pornography. Close up felt on felt action from the comfort of your own home,” he said, chuckling a little.

“Is there even a market for that kind of thing?” He enquired, genuinely curious now. He chose to ignore how potentially lewd the conversation could get. He would keep it strictly business orientated to avoid that.

“You’d be surprised. I can’t give out information on the people that subscribe to me, but let’s just say there are a lot of them,” he replied lowering his shades to wink at Dad.

Was that... He shook his head. No man could possibly have orange eyes. “Please, stop me if I am overstepping your personal boundaries, but if the website is doing so well, why is it that you relocated here? John informed me that you might be...”

“Yeah yeah, well, see, there was this fucking douchebag online,” he started, sitting up straight. “ We played a game together and look, maybe I hacked his account and fucked some shit up... Anyway, long story short, whenever I upload a new video, he steals it and puts it out on the web for free. Ain’t no one wanting to pay for shit when they can get it free so until I can sort out my beef with him, well, my life has gone down the fucking shitter. Fucking illegal downloads fucking me up so fucking badly,” he grumbled, letting go of his fork with a small huff.

Dad gave him a sympathetic look before he finished off his cake, savouring the last piece before he spoke. The natural cake high he was experiencing prompted the next words to leave his mouth before he could even consider any consequences. “You sound like you need a drink.” Despite what he may or may not have thought about the other, he knew when someone just needed a good, stiff drink, and still, he needed to get along with the older Strider. He did not want to ruin his son’s friendship with Dave. If it meant spending time with a crass young man such as Bro, then he would do that. After all, parenthood was about making certain sacrifices.

Chapter Text

“You’re lucky my dad already thinks you’re a bit of a dick or he might have actually got annoyed about you leaving the table like that,” John started as he sat on his bed, watching as his friend flopped down on his computer chair. “You’re supposed to ask if you can leave the table before you do and then you wait to be dismissed.”

Dave shrugged in response, reaching out to move the mouse so John’s computer would turn on. “Whatever. Bro shouldn’t be such a weirdo. He provoked me by starting all that dick sucking shit.”

“Oh come on, it was a joke, of sorts. If you hadn’t have pointed it out, my dad probably would have just ignored it and we could have finished our cake!” Ah, the cake. John’s mind was still on that.

“I really don’t give a damn about cake,” Dave huffed, loading up John’s messenger list. “Hey, who is Spiderbitch?” He asked, scrolling through the list of favourites. His name was naturally at the top of John’s list. Of course it was. He was his best friend after all.

“She’s just someone I know at school. She’s uh... She’s a junior,” he mumbled, rolling onto his stomach and pulling a comic out from under his pillow. “I met her in the library and she helped me get a book from the top shelf. We talked and then we exchanged contact details because she said I was a really good listener.”

Dave glanced over his shoulder and looked at John. Was he stupid or just oblivious? Whatever, his love life was not his problem and he certainly wasn’t going to be some kind of guru for him. He didn’t even understand relationships anyway. They were not his area. He had more important things to worry about.

“So what do you think they’re doing downstairs?” John asked after a while.

“Bro is probably macking on your old man right now,” Dave suggested, clicking around on the computer. He thought that maybe he would find something interesting, but all he could find were lame gifs and lolcat images. That and a folder called Nic Cage, but there was no way in hell he was going to click that. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he was all up and choking on your dad’s pindick as we speak.”

“Dave!” John shouted, throwing a cushion across the room before he spoke again in a quieter voice. “You really think they could get together?”

Dave scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, right. Seriously, Bro thinks he’s kinda hot, but he’s an old man. Ain’t no way Bro will try and tap that shit cause he ain’t got the money to fund a new hip for your pops. I mean, seriously, my bro ain’t going to go for someone like your dad.”

“Hey, that’s kind of offensive. Not that I know anything about men. but I’m sure he’s just as attractive to homosexuals as any other guy! Why wouldn’t your brother go for him?! He has a good job, he’s not overweight or hideously ugly and he drives a really cool car!”

Dave stared at his friend for a moment before he burst out laughing. “Dude, are you saying you want my brother to pork your pops?” And was John’s reasoning hinting that his older brother should have sex with his father because he had a cool car? He couldn’t help but continue to be amused.

“Oh shut up!” John huffed, throwing another cushion at Dave before he settled down to read his comic book before he added: “Besides, I’m pretty sure your brother would be the one getting porked.”



Mr. Egbert stood at his liquor cabinet, two glasses out as he pondered which bottle to pick. He could tell that Bro was more of a beer drinker. Yes, he could picture the young man now. A warm evening; he would be sat on the rooftop, a bottle of Bud in his hand, a cigarette hanging loosely between his lips. Still, it was polite to ask. “Do you have a preference for age when it comes to scotch?”

“Scotch? I don’t drink that shit.”

Dad flinched slightly. Whilst he could tell he probably was not a scotch drinker, there was no need to be so crass about such things. He reached out, running his fingers over the labels on the bottles. He had acquired quite the collection over the years. “I apologise, but that is all I drink,” he mumbled. “Would thirteen years old be to your liking?”

He heard Bro scoff loudly behind him. “Add about thirty years and you’ll have something to my liking.”

Had that been some form of innuendo? He shook his head. No, he was just looking into things. He reached into the cupboard, pulling out a bottle from the back before he grabbed the glasses and moved over to the sofa, placing the items on the coffee table as he took a seat next to Bro.

“Well, I trust that forty years would suffice then?” He asked, smoothing out his trousers before he leaned over and picked up the bottle again, swiping his thumb over the label. He could recall buying the bottle. It had cost over $200 dollars but it had been worth it.

Before he could speak again, he suddenly felt the couch dip beside him. He glanced to his side, slightly impressed by how quick the other had moved. Again, he missed his chance to speak when a gloved hand snapped up and grabbed his chin. Soon, Bro was leaning forward and Dad could see his own reflection in the shades on his face. Such behaviour was certainly unusual and he was honestly frozen in shock. No man had ever invaded his personal space in such a way before.

“Mm, I’d say you’re more forty two but I can assure you that you more than suffice,” Bro said in a low voice, chuckling before he lowered his hand and sat back, slapping his thighs. “Now, give me some of that shit you like drinking, old man.”

Mr. Egbert decided to ignore his comment. Bro was probably having fun toying with him, but he wasn’t going to fall for it and walk into any traps he may have laid out. Pulling forward the two glasses, he poured them both a drink, handing one of them to the other man. “Now, I’m going to need you to be mature about this. Scotch is not just another drink. It is more of an art form, really. A process. You have to open your pallet up.”

Bro stared at the glass, scoffing a little. There was barely any alcohol in the glass. “Yeah, whatever,” he muttered as he threw the glass back, emptying the contents entirely.

On the other hand, Dad took a small sip, his tongue practically alight with sensations as soon as it hit him. He watched Bro out of the corner of his eye, an amused smirk playing on his lips as he saw the younger man grimace and shudder. He could be certain that the young man had probably downed an entire keg in one go, however, this scotch was no cheap, watered down beer. One should not just down the drink. They must take it slow.

“Something the matter, Strider?” He asked, taking another sip.

Gasping a little, Bro hit his chest, holding out the glass. “That shit... That was fucking vile.”

“Vile?” He held up the bottle, pouring another small amount into Bro’s glass. “Come now, you must appreciate it correctly. Do not just throw it back like it’s a cheap vodka. Take it into your mouth, let it sink into your tongue and then swallow slowly.” He put the bottle down again, this time facing Bro as he took a sip, demonstrating just how it was done.

Slowly, he tilted the glass back, the scotch sneaking into his mouth gradually. He could taste the full bodied flavour; the dull stinging that came from when he drank a scotch with such a mature essence. A sublime year, if he must say so himself. They clearly knew what they were doing when they made it. He closed his eyes, lowering the glass as he allowed himself a moment to fully absorb himself into the experience.

His ears pricked up slightly as he heard Bro’s heavy breathing. How long had he been breathing like that? Perhaps he had always breathed like that. Maybe he had asthma... He rolled his eyes. No, perhaps it was caused by those cheap cigarettes. He opened his eyes, ready to make a comment about how he should cut back when he saw how intensely the other was looking at him. It embarrassed him, if anything, but still, he found himself staring back, his eyes moving to the other’s lips, swallowing hard as he watched him lick them.

Finally, the younger male spoke.

“That was fucking hot, yo,” Bro said in a low voice, throwing his drink back again, completely disregarding Dad’s lesson.

He found his cheeks reddening as he took in the comment. That was incredibly inappropriate, his comment, not the blushing. To him, such a reaction was normal. That comment, on the other hand, was not. “It was simply a lesson, I apologise that I did not add ice,” he quipped, reaching for the bottle and topping up his own glass. He had barely finished with his own before Bro shoved his own glass out.

“This shit is nasty, but I need to get drunk so hit me up again,” he mumbled, tapping the bottle with his glass.

“Now, if your intention was to get intoxicated, I could have given you one of the two year olds,” he mumbled, begrudgingly filling up the other’s glass again.

Bro scoffed, leaning back again, this time taking a smaller sip, pulling a disgruntled face as he did so. “As I said, add forty years to that and you got things more to my liking.”

He rolled his eyes, shaking his head slightly. Strider was really going to keep up with that, wasn’t he? He decided to take the bait slightly, but not enough to provoke the other too much. “Tell me, Strider, do you care at all for my preferences?” Like Bro, he was also not referring to alcohol.

He watched the other smirk and shake his head. He had assumed as much. “Thought so,” he said, sighing as he shifted slightly to the side, pretending to make himself more comfortable although he was certain that Bro knew it was just so he could move away from him. It wasn’t that his close proximity to Bro made him uncomfortable, it was just that he barely knew the other and being so near a man who insinuated what he did...Well, it unsettled him.

Clearing his throat, he downed his drink, quickly reaching for the bottle again to fill up his glass. Despite what he said, he felt like he needed some Dutch courage to help him get through this conversation. He shook his head, glancing at the other before he spoke. “So, my son tells me you work in a coffee shop?”

Chapter Text

Scotch was not to Bro's liking. He was a beer man. Beer was good. It tasted good. It felt good in his stomach. Scotch though? It burned. It burned more than any other liquor he had ever had and the aftertaste was enough to make him want to gag. However, he held back the desire to hack and cough all over the place. He knew that wasn’t an attractive thing to see, he knew that from experience. After all, men tended to do the same when they overestimated their abilities to give him head in the back of his pickup.

Bro watched as Dad returned into the room and placed two slices of cake down on the table, a napkin and a small desert spoon on the side of each place. That might distract him from the taste of scotch... He glanced back over at Mr. Egbert. No, there were better things to give his attention to.

Instead, he tried to focus all his attention on Dad, not that it was a difficult or unpleasant task. Quite the contrary, he was thoroughly enjoying looking at the older man. He was also enjoying mentally undressing the other man. Hell, if the chance came up, he would enjoy actually undressing him, but he felt that it wouldn’t. Mr. Egbert seemed beyond uptight, despite his love for alcohol. He hadn’t used his best lines yet though and the night was still young. He had plenty of time to lay his moves down on the old guy, he was just concerned that maybe Dad didn’t care at all for them and despite what he may have implied, he disliked being intimate in any way with a man who didn’t have the same preferences as himself.

Inhaling deeply, he took another sip of his drink. “Working in a coffee shop sucks. People ask for coffee and I have to give it to them,” he mumbled, shrugging. Truth be told, he found it more humiliating than anything but there was little he could do about it. All his money was either tied up in his porn empire or in a trust fund for Dave and there was no way he was touching that. “But I’ll sort that hacker kid out soon enough and then I’ll be back on my feet. It’s just a temporary glitch.”

“I see.”

He picked up the cake from one of the plates, not caring about the crumbs that fell onto the ground and onto the sofa. What was he supposed to talk about? He was not good at talking to adults. He wasn’t so good at talking full stop. Online, yeah, he could do that but in person? No. “So... what do you do?” He asked, taking a bite out of the cake, mainly to stop himself from saying something stupid.

“Ah, I work as a salesman who sells a variety of shaving products,” Dad replied, relaxing into the sofa. “If it’s one thing that is certain in life, it’s that people will shave.”

Bro nodded, trying to look interested but honestly, he couldn’t have been more bored by what he was saying. So far, all he could conclude was that Mr. Egbert was an attractive older man. He looked just like an actor from the 40s. He could picture him now. A beige mackintosh coat, his fedora and his pipe... at an airport, willing his sweetheart to get on a plane. He found himself letting out a small, slightly dreamy, sigh.

“Strider? Is something the matter?”

He shook his head, realising Mr. Egbert had heard the noise he made.Holding his cake to his lips, he shrugged. “Nah man, just thinking about my uh... razor?”

“Good thinking. You should definitely consider switching your razor, Mr. Strider,” Dad said as he shifted, moving closer to Bro. He could feel his heart racing; pounding even, as the older male raised a hand to touch his cheek. He made no move to lower the cake though, mainly due to the fact he was completely frozen. Had he missed something? He looked completely bewildered behind his shades until Dad spoke again. “Yes, you’re using disposable, single blade razors. You should consider changing to at least three blades, although there are some good five blades on the market. And you really need to start using a shaving foam enriched with aloe vera. Your skin seems very delicate and you're putting too much pressure on it. It's a shame to ruin such nice skin.”

And like that, Mr. Egbert was back in his own spot, drinking his scotch again. Bro quickly took a bite of the cake, trying to ignore how flustered such a simple thing had got him. Maybe he was looking into his words but he couldn't help but take the skin comment personally. It was a compliment, wasn't it? He felt like a teenager. He was never like this with men. He was cool and collected and he was always in charge of the situation, even with just male friends (not that he really had any of those). However, Mr. Egbert wasn’t like any man he had ever spent time with.


“Dude, seriously, move it,” Dave grumbled, raising his foot and placing it on the small of John’s back before he shoved him hardly, sending the other flying further towards the stairs with a small squeak. “You’re the one that was fucking curious about what they’re doing so don’t pussy out now.”

“I’m not pussying out!” John said, covering his mouth immediately. “I mean...” He lowered his hands, sighing as they both moved further towards the stairs. “I just, I was just a little curious?”

Dave chuckled under his breath, placing his hands on John’s shoulders to push him out slightly to look into the living room from their position at the top of the stairs. “You just want to see some Strider on Egbert action. Look, if you’re desperate, we can make out later or something,” he offered with a joking tone.

“Ew, don’t be gross, Dave.” He reached up and slapped Dave’s hands away before peering out.

Dave waited for him to speak or to recoil in horror, but he did neither. John just stood there, staring. After a moment, he did raise his hand to adjust his glasses, but still, he made no sound.

“So?” Dave asked, nudging him slightly, growing agitated but mainly bored. “What’s going down?”

John shrugged, leaning out a little more. “Um, nothing. They’re drinking and talking and they’re sat on either end of the couch. Oh, they’re smoking too and...” He let his voice trail off. “Oh my God...”

“What? What is it?! Are their dicks fucking out or something?” Dave asked, frantically peering over John’s shoulder, trying to see whatever shocking thing it was that John saw, only he failed to notice it. The scene looked painfully normal; two old guys talking and well, being adults, he guessed. “What the fuck is it?”

John shook his head, standing up straight, a solemn look on his face. “They finished the rest of the cake...”

“Gasp, shock horror,” Dave mumbled, folding his arms. “You don’t need to eat any more cake, it’s really starting to show and it’s bad enough my best friend is a total dork, I don’t need him being the fat kid too.”

“That’s really mean,” John said as he looked down at himself. “ I really getting fat?”

Dave sighed, turning to walk back towards the bedroom. John wasn’t obese or anything. Yes, he was a little more rotund than himself, but that was just puppy fat and he was sure that John would grow into that eventually. Besides, he could pull off being a little thicker than most. Dave knew he’d look like an idiot if he put on any weight, not that he had to worry about that with his daily two hour fight club with Bro.

“No, you’re not. Christ, sometimes I just want to shove my hands down your pants just to make sure you have balls,” he said as he looked over his shoulder at John. “I mean, seriously, why would you even care if you’re getting fat or not? You’re going to be a fucking nerd whether you weigh a hundred pounds or a thousand.”

John smiled, giggling as he ran up behind Dave and shoved him. “If I get really fat, will you roll me around like a katamari? Just like in the game! You can be the prince!”

“Yeah, why the fuck not.”

“Also, not to change the subject, but... you know that’s the second um, suggestive comment you’ve made to me tonight,” John uttered in a small voice as they moved back into his room.

Dave stopped dead in his tracks. Suggestive comment? He couldn’t recall any. He could remember calling him fat but most other comments he just forgot about usually seconds after saying them. “Dude, what?” He turned around to look at him, a blank expression on his face, although if his eyes were visible, they would be showing off complete and utter confusion.

He watched as John nervously reached up to adjust his glasses, his teeth chewing up his lower lip. “Well, I mean, not that I have any problems with you being gay or anything, but I don’t want you to stick your hands in my pants, you know?”

“Yeah, I know. It was just a comment. I ain’t gunna do that shit to you, Egbert. Don't matter how I am, I ain't going to force myself on you.”

He continued to watch John, gauging his reaction. Had he just indirectly come out to his friend? They had never really discussed anything like that before and honestly, he didn’t care to discuss it now. He didn’t care to discuss it full stop. It was a fact and discussing facts was a pointless thing because no matter how much they discussed them, it wouldn’t change them.

“Well, coolio! Just so long as we’re clear!” John said, nodding and smiling. “Oh, we should watch Ghostbusters!”

Dave raised an eyebrow before shrugging and sitting back down at the computer. He sometimes wondered if John correctly processed information. He was always a little too passive for Dave’s liking, but he had always put it down to having a carefree personality. John would probably explode one day and spew down a load of nasty shit on everyone around them. However, for now, John seemed okay to be blissfully ignorant to the majority of things that occured around him and Dave wasn’t about to go and ruin that just yet. A little ignorance never hurt anyone.


Dad inhaled deeply, allowing the smoke from his pipe to fill his lungs. It was truly one of his favourite pastimes, perhaps surpassing his love for alcohol. Unfortunately, smoking bans and such had pretty much made it impossible to smoke anywhere but in the comfort of his own home but that had driven him to appreciate it more than he did before. He now thoroughly enjoyed each smoking session.

And despite the fact that Bro did not share the same enthusiasm for pipes, he at least had an interest in tobacco, even if it was the kind that could be bought for a few dollars in any gas station.

By the time he decided it was time to speak again, a distinct aroma had filled the air and a faint fog of smoke lingered in the space between them.

“So come on, what the fuck is your deal, old man? Why did you all up and invite me into your little suburban dream house,” Bro started, slurring a little. “Which, by the fucking way, is perfect enough to make like, Barbie fucking jealous.”

Whilst Dad remained unimpressed by Bro’s colourful language, he couldn’t help but find his way of speaking interesting and his southern accent was quite charming, although he was in no rush to point this out to the other. After all, he doubted the man needed any sort of ego boost.

He lowered the pipe from between his lips, looking over at Bro with thoughtful expression on his face. “Well, your brother is friends with my son. Around these parts, parents are friends with other parents. Unfortunately, John does not have many friends and whilst I have plenty of work related pals...” He waved his hand slightly, reaching onto the table to pick up his glass of scotch, raising it to his lips. “Well, I’m sure you get what I mean,” he muttered, taking a sip.

Bro shook his head as he kicked his trainers off. He turned around on the sofa, his back now against the arm as he stretched his legs out, his feet brushing against Dad’s thigh, whether on purpose or accidentally, Mr. Egbert did not know, but he made no move to adjust his own position.

“I don’t really get what you’re saying but whatever.”

Dad sighed a little, finishing off his drink and then tapping his pipe against his lips as he thought of how to word what he wanted to say. “Truthfully, I just wished to talk to you about Dave’s behaviour and perhaps discuss parenting styles with you and such and perhaps build a friendship based on mutual respect for each other and our views on parenting. However, that was before I was told more about your situation, and whilst that does not excuse how Dave acts, it explains it,” he muttered what he said before puffing slightly on his pipe. “Now, before you take that negatively, I wish to retract my previous judgement of you and say that minus your expletives and exterior appearance, you do not seem to be a bad man. You are just very rough around the edges, I suppose.”

He waited for Bro to pick up on any negative connotations of his words, however, he only laughed in response and shook his head more as he lit another cigarette. He continued to wait for a response, only none came. Was he supposed to follow up his own statement with a apology? He wasn’t too sure, so he anxiously dragged the mouthpiece of his pipe along his teeth and watched as Bro continued to smoke and make no attempt at conversation. Was this what Bro believed to be a comfortable silence?

He was anything but comfortable.

“So, might I ask, what is the deal with the gloves and the sunglasses?”

Bro shrugged, reaching over and grabbing the ashtray from the table, placing it on his stomach as he relaxed further into the couch, his feet slowly sliding into Dad’s lap, only furthering the older man’s discomfort. “Well, it’s half irony; half practicality. See, the gloves and the shades protect my two most important things. My eyes and my hands. However, they both also make me look like a complete douchebag, which I’m not...” He waved his hand slightly, tapping the loose ash off his cigarette. “Or well, maybe I am. Fuck, maybe they’re not even ironic anymore. I lost track of why I do shit. They’re just more habit, than anything, y’know? Like your hat.”

Mr. Egbert nodded ever so slightly, raising a hand to subconsciously stroke the rim of his hat without paying much attention to Bro’s wandering feet. “Well, I perhaps understand what you mean, although this hat is a classic. Many gentlemen wear them,” he muttered.

“Yeah, but not indoors, yo.”

“Ah, yes, I suppose you are correct,” he mumbled, lowering his pipe.

He wasn’t going to actually point out the feet. He was going to give Bro the benefit of the doubt that maybe he had placed them on his lap without knowing it; that maybe he was going to have them retreat as soon as he had finished his cigarette. However, he watched him smoke, watched as he took drags, watched as the burning tip slowly moved towards the filter. Whilst this was happening, he felt Bro’s feet move higher up his thighs. Perhaps he was moving them off him... He sighed slightly, his teeth once again anxiously chewing on his pipe.

Then, Bro took his final drag, his hand lowering the cigarette to the ashtray and as he pressed the tip down onto the glass, his foot shifted and brushed straight over his crotch. He tensed up immediately, his teeth clamping down on his pipe. That had been an embarrassing accident, but Bro made no move to take his feet away.

Clearing his throat, he lowered his pipe, his hand shaking ever so slightly. “Ah, Mr. Strider, could you please remove your feet from my lap?”


Dad glanced over at him, frowning a little before he felt Bro move his foot again and a slight blush crept onto his face. Still, he kept his composure and remained calm. “And what, pray tell, is the reason for you not doing so?”

He waited for an answer. He assumed that Bro enjoyed making others uncomfortable, perhaps it was one of his hobbies along with making puppet pornography. Perhaps he liked engaging in games of ‘chicken’, although the purpose of that game completely eluded him.

He watched as Bro lolled his head back and forth. Was he searching for an answer or buying time before he said what was on his mind? Dad was beyond curious as to what actually went through the head of a man like this. He was an eccentric man, of that much he was certain, but other than that, Mr. Egbert had actually failed to establish much more than basic facts about the man. He was truly some sort of enigma. His foot moving perhaps had anothing meaning, although as to what that was, he hadn't the foggiest.

At least, that was what he thought until Bro opened his mouth and simply said: “I was feeling your dong, yo.”

Dad was no genius when it came to slang that younger people used. Most of what Dave said to him straight over his head, however, what the older Strider had said, well, not even he could think that what he said was some kind of double entendre.

Chapter Text

“Bill Murray is so cool,” John said happily, bouncing on the bed. “Do you want to kiss him?”

Dave shook his head, sighing. Ever since the film had started, John had been asking him that question. He knew his friend meant nothing by it, but he couldn’t help but grow increasingly agitated with each question. However, he kept his poker face. “No.”

“What about Dan Akyroyd?”


“So what kind of guy do you want to kiss then?”

Dave shrugged, taking his attention away from the tv to look at John. For once, he was not actually watching the film and his eyes were just staring at Dave expectantly. He wasn’t sure what he expected from him. “I don’t just want to kiss guys. I want to kiss girls too. It’s not a strictly dick thing. It’s a ‘I wanna mack on whoever I wanna mack on’, y’know? I ain’t trying to get snappy with you, but my sexuality really ain’t up for discussion here.” Much like most other aspects of his life, but he chose to keep that to himself.

John was always curious about a lot of things and it did lead him to blurt out questions without realising the implications such things could cause. For instance, he had lacked tact when it came to asking about Dave’s family situation and had simply asked “So it’s weird that you live with your big brother. Are your parents dead or something?” However, luckily for John, that kind of blatant disregard for someone else’s feelings had made him actually want to hang around with him for reasons other than irony.

“Well, is there maybe like, someone you like?”

Dave shot him a blank look before he reached up to pinch the bridge of his own nose. “You really want to do the whole girly sleepover where we talk about people we like and give each other pedicures?”

“I’m sorry, it’s just, my house isn’t as cool as yours. I can’t steal beer and junk and my dad actually cares if we wreck the house,” John admitted, giving him an apologetic look. “Anyway, I’m just kinda curious about it all. I’ve never really met a gay person, well, ‘cept your bro, but he isn’t the usual kind of gay person. I mean, I didn’t even know he was gay until you told me. He’s like, the last person I thought would ever be gay. Not that you’re fully gay but still...”

“He brings home chicks sometimes,” Dave corrected before looking back over at the tv. “Besides, I don’t get why you’re so curious about this shit. Your dad is gay. I mean, sure, that don’t mean you know what goes where or anything like that, but I mean, I don’t get why you’re even mentioning it like it’s something worth discussing.”

John giggled slightly, climbing off the bed to move to the tv. “You’re silly, my dad isn’t gay!”

“Uh, you sure about that, Egbert?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. Maybe it was Dave’s upbringing but he was certain that Mr. Egbert was a homosexual. He dressed well, he drove at the speed limit, he didn’t have a wife and Dave had never heard him make a comment about the knockers on chicks they passed when he occasionally drove him home. By Strider standards, he was a full blown gay.

“I’m pretty sure I’d know if my daddy was a homosexual!” John looked away, laughing a little.

Dave couldn’t help but notice that his friend’s laugh, whilst it was childish, it held a hint of nervousness to it.

“Come on, dude. You don’t have a mom and your dad don’t got no girlfriend, right?”

“Well no... And I do have a mom! She just didn’t want me but my daddy looks after me and he doesn’t need a woman,” John said, clearly trying to unscramble what Dave was saying. “And he’s just... I think he’s waiting for the right woman. He’s a very cautious guy! He doesn’t just rush into things!”

“John, we broke into his bedroom. He don’t have no porn, his computer only has spreadsheets and painfully boring chatlogs on it.He has images of dudes and pipes on his walls and I mean, fuck, you saw that organisation. No straight guy is that anally retentive, y’know?”

John pulled a slight face before he shrugged again. “I know I joked about it before, but...”

Dave reached up and clamped his hand over John’s mouth. “Look, regardless of whether he is, which I think he is-”

“Which he isn’t!” John interrupted, pulling Dave’s hand down.

“Whether he is or isn’t,” Dave started again, slumping back to watch Ghostbusters again. “If Bro wants that, he will find a way to charm your old man into giving him what he wants. He has a thing for doing that. They’re drinking. If your dad lets down his guard for a second and bam! Bro is going to be on that shit like you on cake.”

John took in a sharp breath, his teeth worrying his lip. “I do like cake.”

“Exactly. However, there is one thing to take into consideration.”

“You mean aside from the fact that my dad is not a homosexual?”

Dave gave him a look of disbelief. He had to admire John for that. He stood by his convictions, however wrong they may be. “Well, I mean, we’re friends so he wouldn’t want to fuck up our friendship. He’s an asshole, but he ain’t going to all up and actually destroy my life in such an obvious way.”

“So wait, what is it you’re saying?” John asked, a dumbfounded expression on his face.

Rolling his eyes, he reached out and slid his arm around John’s neck, pulling him down and holding him in a headlock, his other hand coming up to ruffle his hair roughly. “I’m saying your old man’s ass is pretty much safe.”


Mr. Egbert was a man in his forties with a son, a good job, a mortgage and a reliable car. He was a quiet man. He was a careful man. However, none of that made him speak up when Bro had said that comment. None of it made him push Bro’s foot away as it started to slowly rub him through his trousers. As soon as he glanced over at Bro, he realised that all of that was of no consequence. Him having a mortgage wouldn’t stop his cock from responding. His car wouldn’t drive up and say “Hey, this guy is your kid’s best friend’s brother”. What was his job going to do? Tell him that he’s not allowed to get drunk and enjoy the feeling of having another man’s touch? And it certainly couldn’t stop him pushing up slightly.

Still, he reminded himself, that he was not exactly feeling another man’s touch. Whilst his own trousers may have been thin, the thick, unsightly gym sock Bro had on made him feel as though he might be dry humping his own pillow. He could make no move to adjust this situation though.

Whilst he was hardly in shock, he knew he was intoxicated and he knew the younger man to also be that way. Unlike with most, alcohol had the tendency to make him somewhat more shy and reserved, but far more responsive that he would like. He could recall a Christmas party at work six years ago. He had drank far too much wine and he had decided to take a breather in the stationary closet. He hadn’t counted on the human resources officer being in there. He had apologised and turned to leave, but before he could even reach for the handle, she had slipped in front of him to press her large bosom to his own chest. She had reached for his hands and placed them on her plump waist and without a word, they fumbled around until Mr. Egbert prematurely ended their encounter.

He felt himself turn a little red as he recalled the memory (which had promptly caused him to secretly make a pact with himself never to drink at an office party again). It was happening again. He was drunk and he was frozen; paralysed by what, his own lust? Did he lust after Bro?

He mentally slapped himself. Yes, he had thought about him often since he had first laid eyes upon him but that hardly meant he wanted him. He didn’t even consider lingering on the fact that Bro was a man. He was far past the point of caring about that as such. His mind only cared to dwell on silly little things instead of the big picture.

Deciding to concentrate on one thing, he pushed all his thoughts to the back of his mind, including all thoughts about what Bro’s foot was doing because damn, he didn’t want to know why or how he was so good with his foot. He focused on Bro’s face instead. A strong jawline dusted with a slight stubble, he knew that much already from examining his chin earlier. He had failed to notice his sharp cheekbones; the thick sideburns that just cried out ‘I am a man’, however, this didn’t lead to him thinking about the technicalities anything would involve. It just lead to him somewhat admiring what a fine man Strider was, slightly leading him to be in awe at his ability to grow such facial hair.

His eyes flashed up to the shades. He could see his own reflection in them, even from the other side of the couch. Whilst his attire remained the same, his face held an expression he hadn’t seen for a very long time. Still, he desired to see exactly what was behind those shades. He knew the man to be handsome, he could tell that much, but he desired to see the whole picture.

“Excuse me,” he started, a small gasp escaping his finally open lips, which only caused a smirk to tug on the younger man’s lips. “Would I be...” He swallowed hard, placing his free hand on the arm of the sofa, gripping it as his other hand draped down the back of the sofa, his pipe hanging loosely in his grasp. “Would it be too much to ask if perhaps you could remove the sunglasses?”

He felt Bro’s foot stop for a moment as he clearly thought over his choices. Really, Dad had no grounds to insist. After all, his own fedora still remained atop his head. However, whether it was because he wanted to or purely because he was too drunk to actually find a reason not to do it, Bro’s hand snapped up to remove his shades, his eyes remaining closed until they had safely sailed through the air and landed on the coffee table.

Mr. Egbert wasn’t sure what he was expecting. He had seen a quick flash of them earlier, but they hadn’t seemed real. He was wrong though. Perhaps it was his own intoxicated state that altered his view of his eyes but they appeared to be orange; too orange to be classified as amber. He was somewhat mesmerised by them, his brain unable to piece together any kind of compliment, although his mouth was too dry to actually vocalise anything his mind might have come up with.

“It’s rude to stare, old man,” Bro muttered, his smirk growing a little bigger as he started to rub Dad’s crotch faster, much like another thing but Mr. Egbert was still trying not to dwell on that.

Before he could attempt to speak, Bro was gone before his eyes and had materialised in his lap. He wanted to ask how he moved so fast as he was not a stranger to science and he knew there was no way a man could move at such speeds but his question was soon devoured by Bro as a set of eager lips were planted on his own.

At first, he couldn’t bring himself to respond. There was too much happening too soon and he didn’t have a chance to amend his unresponsiveness as he felt his pipe slip through his fingers; his head instantly snapping to try and look over his shoulder.

“Something the matter?” He heard in a deep voice by his ear and if that hadn’t gone straight to his cock and forced it to stand fully to attention, the playful roll of Bro’s hips would have. “If you don’t wanna kiss, we don’t gotta.”

“If you do not want to kiss, we do not have to,” Dad corrected before he turned his head to look back at Bro to see an expression he never thought he would see on another full grown man. The classic kicked puppy look. He cleared his throat, his hands slowly moving to rest on Bro’s waist. He could feel his hard body under the thin shirt and now it was finally dawning on him that yes, this was another man. “Ah, I was simply correcting you.”

“Then why’d you fucking turn away,” Bro replied, sounding like a petulant child.

“I dropped my pipe,” he said flatly.

“You want me to kiss you then?”

He stared at the other man, before he nodded. He had barely nodded twice before his hat was pushed off his head, falling to presumably meet his pipe on the floor. For a strange moment, Bro pressed their foreheads together and he knew his own eyes were wide as the younger man stared into them. Was he a fan of blue eyes? He would ask that another time, if there was another time.

This time as he was kissed, he found himself responding slowly. Their gentle lip brushing turned to open mouthed kisses and it was only another moment before Bro eagerly slipped his tongue into Mr. Egbert’s mouth. He could taste the cheap cigarettes, the bitter aftertaste that had permeated the other’s mouth but it soon subsided to allow him to taste the scotch that lingered on his tongue. That forty year old malt; so rich in flavour that he never thought anything could improve it. That was, until he tasted it in Strider’s mouth and on Strider’s tongue.

Each time Bro’s mouth moved, he felt the stubble on his chin brush against his own, the short hairs almost painfully dragging across his cheek as he moved to whisper in his ear. He was not used to kissing someone with stubble; his skin was not prepared for it.

“Just relax, Egbert. I’m gonna make you feel real good.”

He was past caring about the other’s incorrect ways of speaking. He didn’t know what the other was going to do but if it produced just a fraction of the pleasure he was getting from the way Bro pushed their crotches together, he would be happy.

Soon, he felt stubble on his neck; warm lips pressed against his skin. He let out a small sigh of relief as Bro pulled away, a small glint of appreciation in his eyes as he silently thanked him for not choosing to mark him with his teeth, although he was certain that a man liked Strider enjoyed doing such a thing.

He felt Bro shift back a little and before he could say anything, the other man was suddenly on the floor, worming his way between Dad’s legs as his hands eagerly pulled his trousers open. He wanted to stop him, tell him that such a thing really was not necessary and that he would be perfectly satisfied with them just kissing and pushing together like two awkward teenagers, but there was something about the look of determination on the other’s face that said that he really did not want to interrupt him.

He could see that Strider was clearly a man on a mission.

“I don’t even know your name,” he whispered as he watched Bro slide his hand into his trousers and pull out his erection.Naturally, he blushed upon seeing it, closing his eyes slowly. Yes, it was his own but he was not used to people so roughly and eagerly pulling it out of his trousers. Under most circumstances, he would have not allowed his lover to be on their knees to please him. It was too distant; too impersonal.

However, Bro was not his lover. Bro was a man he hardly knew at all.

“Man, this is really fucking thick,” Bro commented and before Dad could even ask whether that was a good or bad thing, he felt a sudden warmth around his cock.

He swallowed hard, resting his head back on the sofa cushion. He definitely had not felt this for a very long time. He darted his tongue out but his mouth was as dry as his lips. He wasn’t sure whether to blame the alcohol, the smoking or the fact that he was so nervous, he couldn’t even logically come to a conclusion as to what the cause of it was.

Dad glanced down, his mouth soon moist with desire as he saw Bro’s thin lips around his dick. Was he drooling? He couldn’t put it past himself at this stage. He moved his hand to wipe his mouth; no drool, but he found his hand lingering on his mouth in an attempt to disguise the small noises he was making.

Bro’s eyes flicked up at him. He had been caught watching but even in his embarrassed state, he couldn’t bring himself to look away. Not when those intense eyes were gazing up at him; not when he could feel Strider’s tongue.

“You drooling, old man?” Bro asked as he pulled back slightly, still working him with his hand as he reached up with his other and pushed Dad’s shirt up to reveal his stomach, a dark trail leading from his navel to his cock.

Clearly, he was supposed to talk now, but his body couldn't decide between producing too much saliva or too little and once again, he found his mouth as dry as his lawn during the heatwave of '93.

“Ain't that cute, you're left speechless by my amazing dick sucking skills,” he said with a smirk, leaning forward just enough to kiss the tip before he took the head into his mouth again.

Under normal circumstances, he would have chastised the younger man for being so lewd, but this was far from ordinary. This was beyond ordinary. His entire brain was fuzzy – he truly regretted drinking so much. However, it only occurred to him now that the reason he regretted drinking was not because he was drunk nor was it because being drunk had led him to be in this predicament., Quite the contrary, the reason he regretted being so intoxicated was the fact that he was unable to fully appreciate what was happening to him.

To Mr. Egbert, sex was like a good scotch. Better to let it build up over time; better to let the smallest of ingredients develop and come into their own to aid the full bodied flavour and thus accumulate into one satisfying malt. He had found that in his older age, the sex that he did get was far better than the sex he had in his younger days and it lasted much longer. Yes, it was less frequent but it was more satisfying when it did occur.

This all wasn't to imply that what was happening was dissatisfying. Everything Bro did pushed him closer to the edge and he knew that it wouldn't be long before he did achieve climax. His mouth was warm; his tongue wicked. Each time the younger man took him into his mouth, he felt the tip of his erection hit the back of Strider's mouth and yet the man seemed to lack the usual gagging reflex of most. The fact he was not vocally choking on his dick was indeed a turn on and only served to make him reach down and place an encouraging hand on his head. Truly, it was not unsatisfying.

Yet, that did not mean that it catered exactly to his tastes. He enjoyed oral sex just as much as the next man, but like with his alcohol, he had his preferences. Bro was like a cheap vodka. Crude and unrefined (although that didn't mean that the way he moved his mouth down to lick and suck his balls was any less enjoyable – after all, despite all his class, Mr. Egbert was still a red blooded male). It was just, he himself, was like a matured scotch.

“You like me sucking your dick?” Bro asked, smirking as he ran his tongue from the base of his cock to the tip.

He simply nodded in response, panting softly.His thoughts had been completely interrupted by him speaking. That was a stupid question to ask and yet, despite the silly question, his words (perhaps more the tone of his words, if he was honest with himself) made him ache with pleasure. He had never been one for any kind of dirty talk and he doubted Bro's words were classified as such, but it was in the same general area.

“You gonna cum?” He mumbled, kissing his was along the length of his dick before he wrapped his hand around it and slowly pumped his cock as he moved the tip to his lips.

Still nodding, he tried not to stare at Bro's lips. They were coated in his own fluids already and soon enough, he knew the colour of his lips would match his shirt. He really needed to not think about that though. He needed to respect the younger man.. That was what he thought until Bro looked up at him again, his eyes gazing at him with a somewhat mocking essence to them.

He swallowed hard, allowing himself to look back at Bro's lips. For a moment, he thought he saw Strider mouth something to him but if it had been vocal; it had gone unheard. His hand still in Bro's hair clenched and he tugged his head a little too roughly as he let out a low moan, his other hand muffling the noise because he still had the inkling in the back of his mind that said 'your son is upstairs watching movies with this guys little brother' despite the fact he was climaxing in, on and around said guy's mouth.

“D-Damn, Strider,” was all he managed to mutter as he let both of his hands flop to his sides. He was still fully dressed and Bro had just left his cock hanging out of his trousers. Clearly the Strider was a messy man. He couldn’t even be bothered to put away toys he had taken out to play with. He was starting to think the man truly was an overgrown child. Perhaps if he had pushed him away, he would have thrown a tantrum.

“How long will it take you to be ready for round two?” Bro asked as he climbed onto the sofa and lay down, sitting up only to roughly pull Dad down.

Mr. Egbert was easily coerced now. He was drunk and now he was on some post-orgasmic high. So when Bro pulled him between his legs and started thrusting up against him, he didn't need to be told twice to lean down and kiss Bro hard on the mouth. He could taste himself on his lips; not entirely unpleasant, but he'd rather something less disgusting than his own spunk.

He reached down between them, his hand brushing against Strider's stomach. Even though it was covered by some white polo neck, he could feel how solid the other man was. He had never felt another man like that. He himself was a little loose in places; a little pudgy perhaps although as a whole, he was as fit as a fiddle! No other person he had ever been with had been so firm. This man was beyond out of his league and it boggled his mind as to why someone like this had actually come onto him.

“What is it you want me to do, Strider?” He asked, glancing up as his hand hovered over Bro's crotch.

“I want... I wanna,” Bro started, his voice slurring each word; his mind clearly stumbling and confused for what to say next. “I want you to fuck me.”

Dad moved his hand a little lower, ready to press down on what looked like an intimidating package, when he heard a sudden noise. He glanced up in confusion before he rolled his eyes and sighed. “Strider?” He whispered, although his voice fell on deaf ears. The alcohol had finally hit Bro. Sometimes it took a while and sometimes if affected people in different ways. He glanced over at the clock on the wall. It clearly was not past his bedtime and had he not been drunk, he can only assume that they would have gone all the way.

Shaking his head, he pulled his hand back and climbed off the sofa, tucking himself back into his trousers as he did so. He stumbled slightly as moved around the back of the sofa and pulled the throw out and placed it over Bro. He did not like the idea that their guest would be sleeping on the sofa but Bro was out cold and he knew it would be impossible to move him. Even if he was younger and didn't have an injured back from moving a piano, he still would not have been able to move this adonis of a man.

He simply allowed himself to smile ever so slightly as he watched Strider. This was probably the longest he had ever been with Bro where the other man hadn’t cursed.

Still intoxicated, he made his way to his stairs. He wasn’t sure what had really happened as such and how it would pan out. He wasn’t even sure if Bro would remember what he had done. He wasn’t really sure of much. The only thing he was certain of was that Bro would have one hell of a hangover in the morning.

Chapter Text

Mr. Egbert awoke in the usual way. His alarm clock promptly woke him from his slumber at 5:45am. He quickly shut the alarm off so as not to wake his son. He climbed out of bed and then made it, which was a simple act of plumping his pillow and pulling the sheets over his side since he was not a restless sleeper. Unlike his usual routine though, he took a moment to think about that. His side of the bed. He had purchased the bed two years ago. The other side of the bed had never been used so just who did that side belong to? He shook his head and went back to what he normally did.

He quickly showered and pulled on his pajama pants again before he turned to the mirror and picked up the can of Barbasol. Leaning in, he examined his face. He was getting old. He could see the wrinkles at the corner of his eyes, the character lines on his forehead. “Come on, old boy, nothing to it...” he muttered as he applied shaving foam to his face and picked up his razor and slowly scraped the white away, ridding himself of the growth that had accumulated overnight.

Grabbing his handtowel, he wiped his face before he tossed it into the laundry basket and slipped into his dressing gown. There was no point in dwelling on his outer appearance, he didn’t care to go to extremes to change it. Botox and plastic surgery were for the people in the movies. He was just a plain salesman.

A plain salesman who had got drunk last night and received a blow job from his son’s best friend’s brother. His son’s best friend’s brother who was nearly ten years younger than himself and was, for lack of a better word, physically perfect (mentally though... well, he had his doubts). He sighed and shook his head, moving out of his bathroom and stepping into his slippers before he disappeared downstairs.

He quickly glanced at Bro as he moved through the lounge. No, he would not stop to look at him. He refused to. He refused to do much aside from shower before he had his morning coffee. That was his reasoning as to why he wouldn’t look at him anyway.

After brewing a cup of coffee, he walked with it in his hand outside, retrieving the morning paper before he finally settled down in the armchair in the living room, which was, incidentally, located at a 135 degree angle one metre away from the couch. He could clearly see the other man now. Sprawled out on the sofa, snoring softly and drooling directly onto the sofa, which had only been reupholstered recently.

He continued to stare since now he was in the process of consuming his coffee and he could properly concentrate. Last night, he had been prepared to make love to that man on that very couch and now he was worried about some drool? Shaking his head, he decided not to think about it. Maybe he needed to finish his coffee before he could think clearly.

He picked up one of his pipes from the small table next to him before he deftly filled it with loose tobacco and placed it between his lips. He was careful with his matches, trying not to make too much sound as he was certain that Bro had no idea that the hour of six also existed in the morning.

He discarded the match into the large, glass ashtray. That had been a gift from his late mother and it was his favourite one in use, although why he was thinking about where his ashtray came from right now was beyond him. Inhaling deeply, he flipped open the paper and started reading about the events currently occurring locally. He did not care to have a big paper. Just the local one was sufficient enough. He cared about his community. Whilst he could sympathise about protest marches in the capital and mass unemployment or poverty, he could not do anything to help them. The Sunday church bake sale in his town though? Now, he could help there.

He continued to puff on his pipe, occasionally sipping his coffee; often turning the page. This was his morning routine. He did the same thing every single day without fail. It was always the same.

And today was really no exception, aside from the addition of a guest. From behind his paper, he could hear a slight movement on the sofa, followed by a long groan and a series of curses.That was certainly not in his usual routine.

Strider was awake, apparently, and he did not seem to be a morning person from the noises echoing throughout the room.

Slowly lowering his paper, he looked over at Bro. He could now confirm that the man was definitely not a morning person. His hair stuck up at right angles, his eyes were red and there was a small trail of saliva glistening on his chin. Attractive.

“What fucking year is it? Where the fuck am I?!” Bro said in a deep, muffled voice, clearly trying to work out how to use his voice as he scrambled off the couch, stumbling slightly, his eyes darting around the room frantically. “Oh my fucking god, what the fuck did I do last night? Is this a fucking Barbie dream house?”

Dad couldn’t stop himself from letting out an amused noise. “No, Strider, this is not a 'fucking Barbie dream house’ as you so eloquently put it. This is the Egbert family home. You stayed here last night. We had some drinks and you passed out.” He chose to leave out the fact that Bro had performed oral sex on him because he felt that right now, it would only complicate matters.

Bro looked around, clearly still confused as he smacked his lips. “Right, yeah, course I fucking did,” he mumbled before staring at Dad. “Yo, you got some like, water and aspirin? Or like, a chainsaw so I can cut my fucking head off?” He asked, reaching up to rub his head.

“In the kitchen you will find a glass of water on the side, a bottle of aspirin and a freshly brewed pot of coffee.” He held up the paper again, going back to reading an article about about stolen shopping carts. He was finished the it by the time Strider stomped back into the lounge.

He remained silent, still puffing on his pipe as he flipped through the pages.

“I can make you pancakes if you wi-” He was cut off as he lowered the paper again, noticing that Bro lacked a cup of coffee and was pulling his sneakers back on. It was still before 7am. “Now, the boys do not have to be awake until a quarter past seven. There is no need for you to leave so early. I’m sure we can spend a few minutes in each other’s company sober.”

“No, I gotta dash. If I get back to my place now, I can process some custom smuppet orders before I go to work,” Bro mumbled, grabbing his cigarettes from the table before he replaced his shades and cap, and looked straight at Dad.

He didn’t know what to say. He was pretty sure he looked like some sort of deer caught in headlights, his eyes wide and his pipe hanging loosely from his lips. He had no idea what words to string together in order to successfully communicate. He could tell Bro was expecting something. Maybe he had remembered what they had done; perhaps he never actually forgot. Still, he couldn’t bring himself speak. Strider looked all kinds of intimidating stood up straight. He was much taller, more muscular and so much younger.

In the morning light it was painfully clear that what had occurred would be filed away as a drunken mistake in Strider’s book.

“So last night was-” Bro started, pulling out his carkeys and throwing them in his palm as he started to move to the door.

“Interesting,” Mr. Egbert suggested, folding his paper up and setting it aside before he took the pipe from his mouth and placed it atop the newspaper. “Unexpected.”

“Yeah, who would have thought I’d pass out on some old guy’s couch,” Bro muttered, opening the door. He could have sworn the younger man was eyeing him up; looking him up and down. Was it a look of appreciation or regret? Sadly, the shades on his face stopped Mr. Egbert from knowing. “I’ll be in touch, yo.”

And like, he was gone and Mr. Egbert just remained in his chair, a slightly puzzled expression on his face as he tried to work out exactly what had just occurred.


It was a week later when an unusual window popped up on Mr. Egbert’s taskbar. He was not used to that happening, but he recognised the small icon by whatever programme it was. He never was too good with computers. He minimised the internet browser (good ol’ Internet Explorer, his trusted companion and friend when it came to browsing online) and enlarged the flashing one.

--timeusTestified [TT] began pestering pipeFan413 [PF]--

TT: Sup sexy old man Egbert.
PF: What? Who the devil is this? Is this Strider?
TT: Bingo, daddy-o.
PF: How did you get my handle?
TT: I hacked baby Egbert's email, checked his folder for messages from daddy, and got it from there.
PF: Really now, Strider, did you have to illegally violate my son's privacy just so you could pester me on my computer?
TT: Please, call me Bro, dude.
PF: I'll call the police.
PF: We have these things called telephones now. It means you can contact people without breaking the law.

TT: I didn't really break the law.
TT: But look, you seem annoyed at me for whatever reason so I'm just going to go.

--timeusTestified [TT] ceased pestering pipeFan413 [PF]--

He frowned at the screen. Strider typed far faster than he did. He seemed annoyed? He had barely said anything. He reopened the window, shaking his head as he began carefully typing. Typos would be embarrassing, especially when Bro seemed to have such a clean typing style.

--pipeFan413 [PF] began pestering timeusTestified [TT]--

PF: Now, Strider, come back here.
PF: I was just trying to purchase my tobacco online and your darn window interrupted me.
PF: Strider?
PF: Bro?
PF: We need to talk about the incident that occurred.
PF: You know.
PF: The oral sex.
PF: Between you and I.
PF: Oh fiddlesticks, you really did go.
PF: Just call me.
PF: If you need to find me, I'm in the phonebook.
PF: I’m the only Egbert.

--pipeFan413 [PF] ceased pestering timeusTestified [TT]--

He closed the window and went back to his shoppping before a thought suddenly occured to him, and he found himself yet again opening the programme.

--pipeFan413 [PF] began pestering timeusTestified [TT]--

PF: That reminds me, what is your darn name?

--pipeFan413 [PF] ceased pestering timeusTestified [TT]--

Dave stared at the screen. He had only been getting a fresh bottle of AJ when he heard the front door slam. Presumbly, that was Bro going up to the roof or someone had just broken in. He figured since his shit wasn't getting wrecked, it had been Bro.

Normally, he wouldn't dare go near Bro's computer but there was a window flashing so clearly, he hadn't logged off. He was only going to do the brotherly thing and tell whoever it was that Bro was taking a dump or something. But then he had opened the window and well, as soon as he saw the word 'sex' his thirteen year old mind kicked in and he quickly took in the conversation.

Shaking his head, he couldn't believe it. He knew the chumhandle, and even if he didn't, he had said his surname was Egbert, and it was pretty obvious what had gone down. He just couldn't believe it. Not the fact that Bro had slept with yet again another person, that wasn't any of his business. It was the fact that he had managed to seduce Mr. Egbert. He wasn't sure how any of that would happen as he was only skilled in seducing his own hand but he was impressed. John's dad was a total square.

He pulled out his phone. There was only one person he could tell this to.

--turntechgodhead [TG] began pestering tentacleTheraptist [TT]--

TG: bro sucked off egberts old man
TT: What?
TG: sorry
TG: my older brother performed oral sex on johns father
TT: What?
TG: christ lalonde
TG: bro chowed down on mr egberts manmeat
TG: papa egbert fucked my bros mouth
TT: I understand the concept of performing oral sex on a male, despite my inclinations.
TT: This is just an unexpected thing.
TT: I should have guessed that Mr. Strider had unusual tastes when it came to men.
TG: unusual???
TG: dude old man egbert is the definition of normal
TT: To most of the population, yes.
TT: However, to someone like Mr. Strider, he is an unknown entity.
TT: He is used to strippers and twinkies.
TG: isnt that a snack
TT: It means young homosexual.
TG: wow okay so you thought hed be more likely to get on me
TT: I did always suspect that your brother’s feelings towards you were not always entirely parental.
TG: …
TG: dude shut up and lets talk about the matter at hand
TT: Or mouth, as the case would be.
TT: Look, Mr. Egbert is completely different. It’s not all that surprising that he would want him.
TG: but hes so old
TT: He is in his early forties.
TT: Your brother is probably no more than ten years his junior.
TG: i dont really have a problem with it to be honest bro can do what the fuck he wants
TG: or who the fuck he wants
TT: Then why do you seem distressed?
TG: im not im cool over here
TG: im just thinking what about egbert
TT: Ah, John.
TT. Yes, now I understand.
TT: I’m sure he’ll take it like a champ.
TT: I’m sure his father will too.
TG: seriously im about ready to hurl in a minute
TG: actually make that a second

--turntechgodhead [TG] ceased pestering tentacleTheraptist [TT]--


Bro returned to his computer with a brown paper bag. Of course, when Mr. Egbert seemed to have his panties in a twist, he had run off to get some Doritos and upon said return, he was greeted by a window. A small smirk creeped onto his face. He wanted to talk about ‘the oral sex’, as he so politely put it.

--timeusTestified [TT] began pestering pipeFan413 [PF]--

TT: Telephones are for old people.
TT: What part of the oral sex did you wish to discuss?
TT: The licking, the sucking....
TT: The part where I lightly tongued your balls.
PF: No, Mr. Strider. None of that.
TT: Well, I guess we could talk about your big, thick dick filling my mouth perfectly.
PF: I do not have to sit here and read these lewd things.
TT: No, you don’t.
TT: But you will.
TT: I know you will.
PF: …
PF: Can we just not discuss my penis?
TT: You’re the one that wanted to discuss ‘the oral sex’.
PF: Why did you do that?
TT: Because I wanted to.
PF: How mature of you.
TT: You’re hot.
PF: So is the sun but I don’t see you on a rocket trying to perform fellatio on it.
TT: You’re interesting.
PF: Interesting is not located in my trousers.
TT: It was from where I was kneeling, yo.
PF: Strider, please. Take your mind out of the gutter and look at the situation.
PF: I am a single parent in his forties with an office job. You came into my home, you drank my scotch and you forced yourself on me.
TT: Bullshit.
TT: I was invited into your home, you gave me your scotch and you more than happily fucked my mouth.
TT: If anything, you were all over me. You touched my face and kept pouring me that nasty shit.
PF: You rubbed my penis with your foot!
TT: You were all up and in my face being sexy.
PF: I was on the other side of the couch being me.
TT: Which is sexy.
PF: This is stupid.
TT: Yes, it is.
TT: We shouldn’t be discussing this over the internet.
TT: Prepare the scotch, I’m coming round for a second try.

--timeusTestified [TT] ceased pestering pipeFan413 [PF]--

Chapter Text

To say he was nervous was an understatement. Ever since Bro had ceased pestering him, he had been on edge. Had he been serious? Was he truly going to visit again? His home was a mess (by his standards anyway), he was still in his work clothes and he was starting to get the dreaded 5 o’clock shadow that all shaving foam salesmen dreaded.

Still, he didn’t want to risk taking a shower and changing. After all, he most certainly did not want to find himself wet and naked when Strider arrived. No, definitely not. At least, that was what he had convinced himself.

He wasn’t entirely sure what he was expecting, or what he even wanted. He Just knew he was very, very confused. No one had ever acted like this with him. The way Bro spoke to him, whilst their conversations had been brief, was just so different; so raw. He was blunt, on the verge of being constantly rude and offensive, but he was not without a certain charm.

Shaking his head, he refilled his pipe, nervously lighting it as he tried his best to relax in his armchair. No, he was rude fullstop. No charm. No class. No elegance. No tact. He was just rude.

Then why couldn’t he stop thinking about him the entire week they had been apart? And why did this possible meeting have him sat literally on the edge of his seat?

He shuffled back a little, exhaling a large plume of smoke into the already foggy air. He was not built to understand these things. He was a man of times long passed. His morals and values were no longer upheld in society. Call him old fashioned, but he believed in strict series of beliefs, one of which was to never fool around on the first date.

He inwardly groaned, raising his hand to his forehead. He hadn’t even been on a date with the man and they had already gone past first base, past the second and were on their way to a home run. DId he even want to go on a date with him? He felt like his entire set of rules and standards had been smashed by the Texan.

The ridiculously good looking, young, sexy Texan.

“Wow, dad, you’re really enjoying your pipe today,” came a small voice that made him snap his hands away from his head to set his pipe down on the table.

“Goodness, I do apologise, son,” he said with haste, waving his hands in front of his face to try and dismiss some of the smoke.

“So, dad, what’s wrong? You don’t normally smoke this much unless you’re worried,” John said as he moved into the room and plopped himself down on the sofa on the exact same spot Dad had been sitting last week when Strider and himself had...

“Ah, son, you might wish to sit on the other end. I spilled my coffee on that spot earlier.”

John shuffled along instantly, not even questioning his father. Why would he question that? It’s not like he knew that his father had got a blow job on that sofa. There was no way he could have known. Still, it felt strange to have him sit there and it made Mr. Egbert uncomfortable. He couldn’t stop him sitting on the sofa, but he could stop him from sitting on that end until he could have it reupholstered again.

“And there is nothing wrong,” he continued, reaching to the side to pick up a cup of coffee he had made quite some time ago. It was cold and he had no intention of drinking it, he just wished to have something to hold to busy his hands for a moment. “Nothing that concerns you, anyway.”

“Dad, c’mon, I’m a big boy now. If you got problems, you can share them with me! A problem shared is a problem halved.”

He regarded John for a moment. He was growing up, that much was true, but he had never shared details of his intimate activities with John, and by intimate he meant dates. He wasn’t even sure what he would categorise casual sex under.

The reason he never shared them with John was because his son had a tendency to get attached to things. He could fondly recall the summer when John was five. He had met a woman at the park whilst feeding the ducks with his son. One thing had led to another and they had been somewhat of an item. John had enquired as to whether she was going to be his new mother. He had foolishly said yes, because he had taken quite a shine to the lady. However, as with most romances of the modern times, things had not worked out too well. After a few months of being together, she had moved in and had instantly started picking out every fault with him and his son that she could find. That kind of attitude was not welcome in the Egbert household and she had been promptly asked to leave their home after a cruel comment regarding John’s reading ability.

He didn’t want to put him through that again so he decided to keep his love life and family life separate.

Not that he had much of a love life, but what very few encounters he did have, he kept to himself.

“Just work related things. Boring things,” he lied, looking away because despite how small and insignificant the lie was, he couldn’t bring himself to lie to his son’s face.

“Hmm, if you say so. Anyway, I’m going to Dave’s tonight. He sent me a text saying his brother just bought him like, a bazillion Microsoft points so we’re going to download the lamest games available and play them all night.” John paused for a second, getting to his feet. “Don’t worry, I’ll take the bus! He said his brother is going out drinking tonight or something so he won’t be around.”

It took him a moment to register what he had said. Bro was going out drinking? No, he wasn’t. He was visiting their house. Or was he? Had he been joking? Maybe he was getting anxious about nothing. He really didn’t know, but it had him reaching for his pipe again, his coffee cup being placed in the spot his pipe previously occupied.

“Don’t you have school tomorrow?” He asked after a while, his eyes drifting over to look at his son.

“Um, no? It’s Saturday tomorrow, dad... are you sure you’re okay? I mean, if you’re not, I can cancel and we can sit around and watch some of your Clint Eastwood movies. I’m sure Dave will understand. No matter how you might feel about him and his brother, he’s a good guy and he’d totally understand me having to blow him off to hang out with my dad!”

He shook his head, returning to puff on his pipe, despite the fact that John was now home. “Come now, since the Strider’s left last week, I haven’t said anything about them.”

John stood up, shrugging. “Yeah, that could also be a bad thing. I know you, dad. You talk when things are good and tend to hold your tongue when it comes to bad shi-um, stuff.”

Mr. Egbert decided to ignore the near-curse John almost let slip. “Dave remains to be a colourful character and his brother is a delightful, young man with an interesting background.” He kept his voice calm and monotonous, watching John’s reaction as he spoke.

Like most normal teenagers, he simply shrugged and pulled his school backpack onto his shoulders again. “Whatever, dad. No matter how much you hate them, I’m not going to stop being Dave’s friend and until we fall out or he dies or something, we’re not going to like, stop hanging out so you really need to just get over it and decide to make nice with Bro or just accept it. They’re not going anywhere.”

He couldn’t help but John had changed his tune over the past week but he barely had time to mull over that before John was out of his sight. John seemed to think he hated Bro, which made him wonder if perhaps Bro had said something Dave and he had passed it on.

Groaning, he shook his head and slumped back into his armchair. He really had no idea what was even going on anymore. He was surrounded by males he didn’t understand


Bro was in his pickup when his phone rang. Not being one to abide by any sorts of rules of the road, he flipped his phone open and held it to his ear. He knew his way to the Egbert family home like the back of his hand by now. After all, he’s carted both John and Dave between their homes for a while now.

“Sup?” He said with a bored tone, never one to show any surprise, although he was a little. Very few people had his number and even fewer dared to call it.

“Strider. I’m ecstatic that I managed to get you on your cellular device.”

The lisp gave the caller away instantly, and he found his grip on the steering wheel tightening.

“Captor. What do you want?”

He could almost hear him smirking on the other end of the phone. This guy had royally fucked up his life. Well, not fucked it up, but he had given it a good shake up and now he was in fucking Washington, working in a shitty coffee shop and dwelling in a cheapass apartment that an old friend had managed to get as a sub let from someone who wasn’t making any plans to return to the states anytime soon.

“I was just wondering how you were faring given the circumstances. I’ve clocked a change in IP address from you. So now you’re situated in Washington,” said the voice on the phone and Bro could swear that Sollux was using words that made his lisp more prominent and it made his anger grow.

“Yeah well, turns out living in Houston was pretty fucking expensive and when my monthly income went from thousands of dollars to zero overnight, I couldn’t fucking afford to keep up the rent on a highrise apartment in the city centre,” Bro replied bitterly.

“Yes, that’s such a shame. Maybe you’ll think better the next time you decide to fuck with people.”

Bro grunted into the mouthpiece, turning a sharp corner. “It was a fucking game.”

“Hacking into my account and fucking giving away my best fucking weapon and gold was not part of the fucking game. What you took from me, I took from you.”

“You need to learn to differentiate reality from a fucking online video game, Captor,” he mumbled in response, trying to keep his cool but it was hard for him. He was used to expressing his anger.

“And you need to learn not to fuck with people who can destroy you.” He paused before chuckling down the phone and that laugh was enough to make Bro clench his jaw and grind his teeth in annoyance. “That last video you put out was a work of genius, Strider. Who would have thought that the little pink smuppet would have taken three felt dicks? Not the three thousand people who accessed the video within five minutes of me leaking it, that much is certain. The usage statistics tell me they watched more than just the normal amount required to get someone off. Imagine that. Three thousand, why, that’s more traffic than usual. Your directing skills are getting better. I’m sure your wallet is weeping as I speak.”

And it was. He could practically feel his empty wallet digging into his thigh as he drove into the freaky suburbia the Egbert house was located in.

“When you’re ready to fucking apologise, I have the codes standing by to redirect any traffic from my site to yours.”

The sheer smugness was dripping through the phone as he continued to speak and it had Bro actually holding the handset away from his ear.

“I’m sure I’ll hear from you sooner rather than later.”

He closed the phone without saying goodbye, and tossed it onto the passenger seat as he pulled up to the Egbert residence. The words of the other rung out in his head as he sat behind the wheel and stared at the mundane family home. He had a number of things to think about and the state of his financials was only a minor one. Right now, he had more important things on his mind than his career, his livelihood, his legacy. He was about to see the man he had been jerking off to three times a day for a week, and that, in Bro’s mind, trumped anything else.


Mr. Egbert jumped out of his chair as he heard the rumbling of a pickup truck outside his house, his fingers nervously fumbling with his pipe as he tried to calm himself down. He had no reason to be nervous. This was simply another man paying him a visit to have a nice drink.

Yes, they would have a drink, smoke some tobacco and exchange witty anecdotes.

Still, just thinking that that might be all they did caused him to feel a little empty, but who was he to expect any more?

He wasn’t kidding anyone. A quick glance in the mirror gave him away completely. His face was already at least a shade or two redder and the fact that his stubble was out in full force just screamed ‘I’m a man that’s so nervous about meeting the guy who gave me a blow job last week that I couldn’t handle being in control of a razor near my throat’.

He placed his pipe down on the side table near the door before he took in a deep breath and adjusted his tie. It was just a meeting to discuss last week. He was going to act like an adult and suggest that given their circumstances and dramatic differences, both in personality and age, that such an event should not occur again.

He waited for the knock at the door and as it came, it echoed throughout the living room. He dabbled with the thought of removing his fedora but decided to keep it. He felt more comfortable with it on and he knew that Bro would go out of his way to make him uncomfortable so he figured he needed something on his side, even if it was just a hat.

“Do not mention anything he can twist. Do not make any unusual movements. Be yourself,” he said to himself quietly as he reached for the front door handle and pulled it open.

Pulling the door open, he managed to push down all his thoughts and feelings and let his usual fatherly persona take over.

“Good evening, Mr. Strider. I trust that you are well?” He said as he stood aside and motioned for the other to come inside.

“Just peachy,” Bro replied with a nod and a small grunt, implying that he was far from such but it was not Dad’s place to push such a thing just yet so he merely turned around and walked over to the seating area.

He didn’t speak. Instead, he watched as Strider wiped his feet on the welcome mat (a gesture he had failed to do the first time) and looked around his home again. He hadn’t had a chance to clean the home since midweek and he was slightly anxious that Bro could already see the dust settling on the many polished surfaces and good Lord, as he followed what he could only assume was Bro’s line of sight, he noticed an odd sock on the staircase. It must have dropped from the laundry basket when he was taking the clean clothes upstairs.

The older Strider didn’t say anything about it though. He simply moved into the room and took a seat in the exact same spot he occupied last week.

“I take it mini Egbert is already enroute to Casa Del Strider?”

“I believe him to be, yes.” He continued to remain standing, unsure as to whether he should sit next to Strider or back in his armchair. “I take it the Egbert family residence has become your new drinking establishment? After all, you told your brother that you were going out drinking. I can only assume that he thinks you have gone to a bar and not his best friend’s home.”

Bro shrugged as he kicked off his shoes and Dad could only grimace in annoyance as he watched him kick his feet up onto his coffee table. He supposed he had to be grateful that he was polite enough to remove his sneakers but it didn’t make him any happier about the fact that someone had the guts to put their feet on his furniture.

“Dude, I said I was going out to have drinks. I went out. I left the house. I drove here and you’re gonna give me drinks. I didn’t lie or nothing to Dave. I don’t do that shit.”

“Nice to know you have some standards and morals,” Mr. Egbert said dryly as he moved over to his liquor cabinet again. “Tell me, have you come here for just a drink or something more?” He wasn’t sure where he had gathered up the courage to speak like this to a man who, quite frankly, intimidated him something chronic. However, he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth and he would ride out this wave as far as it would take him.

“I’ve come here for whatever you’ll give me, yo.”

Dad gave him a quizzical look before nodding and opening his cabinet, taking out a bottle of scotch from the second shelf. It didn’t have the history that the one he gave Bro prior had, but it was a good age and not one to be taken lightly. He picked up two more glasses before placing them on the coffee table, ‘accidentally’ hitting Bro’s ankle with the bottle.

“I’ll give you a twenty year old.”

He knew that the scotch was not what Bro was referring to, but it was a little too soon into the conversation to go into the true reason as to why he was here. Dad wasn’t naive enough to think that ‘coming round for a second try’ meant him visiting to try his alcohol one more time, but he could act as though it was.

“I already said I prefer something older.”

“And I already gave you something older and it turned out that you could not exactly handle it.” He paused for a moment before taking a seat next to Bro and looking over at him with a kind smile on his face because he honestly had no qualms with the man’s ability to give head. “And in this case, I truly am referring to the scotch. You passed out, Strider. I do not wish to have a repeat of last time.”

Bro clucked his tongue, leaning over to grab one of the glasses before he reclined back into the sofa. “Now, old man, that really was a fucking loaded statement if ever I heard one.”

“I know for a fact that you are quite skilled in handling loads.”

“Oh, someone has his witty hat on tonight.”

He chose not to respond and instead, reached for the bottle but not before he glanced at the clock. It was still a little early to drink, in his opinion, although he knew that if he mentioned that to Bro, the other would probably respond with the overly used phrase ‘it’s happy hour somewhere’.

Sitting back, he placed his hands on his thighs. “I feel we are starting this on all the wrong notes. Let us act like civil adults and have a conversation.”

“Cool. Conversation. I’m totally down with that,” Bro mumbled as he carelessly placed his glass back down on the table. “Lemme guess, you wanna know more about me like my childhood or something? I bet my whole situation with Dave has got you real curious. Don’t worry, everyone usually is.”

Dad couldn’t lie. He had been curious about that ever since John had briefly brought it up but he was not a rude man and unlike John, he would never flat out ask someone about their home situation or past. He would normally allow them to bring it up naturally, but from the way Bro spoke, he could tell this was about as natural as it was going to get.

“I have wondered as to ‘what the deal was’ as the younger generation would say.”

“Ain’t nothing much to it. Our old man croaked after Dave clawed his way out of the womb. Construction accident. Dumb fuck never wore his hard hat.” He paused, long enough to make Mr. Egbert look over to him and he noticed that for once, Bro seemed a little on edge. “Old lady pretty much hit the bottle after that and decided that her prescription sleeping meds would like to make friends with Jack Daniels in her stomach.”

He nodded in response, keeping his eyes on Strider. He briefly had a moment to think that perhaps the younger man’s aversion to scotch was perhaps a psychological thing before he continued speaking.

“As I told you over dinner last week, I applied to college and got in on a scholarship. Hell, bitches were breaking their backs to snap me up. I was a promising engineering student with an academic history that would make those Harvard dickweeds weep. All my shit was so good it made everyone overlook my poor attendance and colourful permanent record. But when you’re eighteen and the only family you got left is a little shit machine who needs attention 24/7, well, you don’t get to do no luxuries like college.”

“Surely you could have spoken to someone, got some kind of nanny... arrangements could have been made...”

Bro shook his head, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his cigarettes. “Nah man, I told any authorities ‘bout my situation and they would have put Dave in the system. I ain’t gonna let a Strider go in the system. That’s like putting an animal in captivity. It ain’t right.”

Dad watched him silently as he lit a cigarette and exhaled. He felt a pang of guilt deep inside him for judging the Striders by their outward appearances.

“I kept him and after a month of living off nothing but cigarettes and coffee, I’d set up this dumbass website. I’d been toying with the idea since I was like, fucking fifteen. A niché market that no one had a grasp on and I figured hey, why the fuck not? Needless to say, it was a success so as soon as I’d raked in enough money, I moved us out of the shitty family house in the deep south and into the top apartment in a highrise block in the city. I paid off the debts the ‘rents left, started a fund for Dave and with the rest of the income, I bought shit for Dave that I could only dream of having as a kid.”

“How very admirable of you,” Dad said earnestly, reaching out for the bottle of scotch to fill their glasses because out of all the stories he had heard in his life, that perhaps had to be the most depressing. The way Strider explained his past though, it was as though he was completely unaffected by it. He couldn’t decide whether Bro was a very strong man or just good at covering things up.

“Not really man. I did what I had to do to.”

“I think you’re being far too mod-”

“I did what I had to do and leave it at that. I don’t want you thinking I’m some kind of fucking saint because I maybe did a few good things over a decade ago. I’ve done plenty of shitty things to balance that out so they ain’t gonna fucking canonise me when I die.”

Mr. Egbert visibly flinched as he picked up the glasses. Bro could do with toning down the language. He turned slightly to hand over a glass, his eyes falling to his attire. He could also do with changing his clothes. A man of his age should wear a suit, or at least a shirt with a pair of slacks. He shouldn’t be dressing like he was still in college.

Then he recalled that Bro did not go to college and he couldn’t help but wonder if Bro was making up for lost time in a way. Sighing heavily, he relaxed back into the sofa and took a small sip of his drink. He was already raising one teenage boy, he wasn’t sure if he had the strength or patience to deal with another one.

Chapter Text

Unlike last time, Bro had managed to pace himself with the scotch, and Mr. Egbert was impressed.

He had learnt not to simply down it each time and instead seemed to be savouring each sip, which was a relief to him as he did not care to see more of his alcohol go to waste. As he had said prior, if Bro’s intention was to get plastered, he had a number of other spirits he could consume.

They had steered away from Bro’s past and had decided to concentrate on Mr. Egbert’s life for a while. He had explained that John’s mother had left them for another man (or, as he clarified, that was what she had written on the note that she left under their son’s pillow on that one unusually warm October evening). He had explained that he had also failed to go to college, but not for the same reasons as Strider. His reasons had been simply that he had taken a job upon exiting high school and never looked back.

He had explained his career, his colleagues and his few, select friends. Likewise, Bro had explained similar things - only, he had bitched about his new job (he had refused to call it a career since he made no plans to be there longer than he had to), insulted his colleagues and explained that his unique interests had left him with only a couple of friends and a list ‘as long as his cock’ of acquaintances. Dad was certain that meant he had a vast number of those, but he was unsure as to the exact measurements of Bro’s appendage and he thought it rude to ask him to specify.

They had moved onto more trivial matters after their fifth glass of scotch, such as favourite films (Dad’s being Dirty Harry whilst Bro’s was Dude, Where’s My Car?, which was something he was certain he would not understand even if he had seen it).

Not long into their exchange of favourite things, Mr. Egbert realised how painfully obvious it was that they had nothing in common, except for the fact that they were both single handedly raising teenage boys, and they both had unsavoury habits like smoking and drinking (and putting out without going on dates, which Dad had simply waved off with a slight tint to his cheeks because that was most certainly not a habit of his, and he was doubtful that at his age it would become one).

Despite their vast differences, there was no denying his attraction for the younger man though. What was it they said, opposites attract? He could never truly understand that phrase as surely one would desire to spend time with another person who shared the same interests? However, here he was, actually enjoying Strider’s company more than he had ever enjoyed someone’s company before. He’d like to argue that perhaps his view of this was jaded due to being alone for so long, but he wasn’t one to lie to himself, not after he had consumed a few drinks anyway. Perhaps in the morning he could (and most likely would), but right now, he could only smile and nod as Bro took over the conversation.

“So like, okay, picture me fucking stark naked on top of a hill,” Bro said with an enthusiastic voice, leaning forward a little. “And I’ve got Dave telling me to put my dong away, but I’m fucking blazed out of my mind and somehow, we both agree that the best way for me to get my clothes at the bottom of this fucking hill would be to put me on the kid’s skateboard and push me down.”

“Yes, I can see why that would be the best route to take.”

“Yeah yeah! So like, we put me on it and push me down and I’m fucking clinging to the base of this skateboard; my legs are fucking in the air and I’m shouting shit that would make Satan turn a darker shade of red. Needless to say, I didn’t make it to my clothes and I grazed my balls so bad I couldn’t jerk off for at least a month.”

Dad’s face held a slightly amused expression because, after a few drinks, he was also becoming more immune to Bro’s language. He still thought his language would rival the local sewage works for filth, but he no longer felt the need to voice his opinion on the matter. He suspected it was futile anyway.

“Man, that shit was torture. Blue ballin’ it for a month, yo.”

“Well, Mr. Strider, that will teach you to meddle in drugs then, won’t it?”

“Nah, it didn’t. I toked up the next night and turned the fucking living room into a giant game of battleships.”

Recreational drug use: another reason why it would be unwise to attempt to pursue a relationship of any sort with Bro Strider.

“C’mon, old man, you can’t say you ain’t never done none of the green...” Bro said, leaning over to nudge him.

He had no desire to win cool points in the other’s book, but as he took another sip of his drink and felt the warmth of the liquid run through his body, he felt as though he actually wanted to share personal experiences with him.

“Well, there may have been a summer back in the late eighties where I was perhaps travelling to sell my shaving wares and perhaps my travels took me to California,” he started, a fond smile gracing his features as he looked down at his lap and recalled the tale. “A man may have exchanged a bag of a certain plant for a good quality razor and my purple fedora.”

“Purple? Ain’t you got a colourful lil’ past goin’ on,” Bro remarked, his southern accent more apparent than usual and Dad couldn’t help but wonder if maybe he was paying too much attention to his little story to concentrate on toning down his accent. He found it rather endearing, if anything, and the softer accent was more than pleasing to his ears.

“Ah, it was a different time. “

“You’re tellin’ me. I ain’t gettin’ a bag of dope for less than a couple of Franklin’s.”

Dad fell silent again, nodding as to acknowledge what Bro had said but deciding against speaking as he had very little to add to that. He threw back the rest of his scotch, placing his glass on the coffee table before he turned to look at Bro, taking in a deep breath.

His eyes instantly fell on those ridiculous shades. What possessed him to wear them was beyond Dad. The man was ridiculously attractive underneath them (even with them, he was certain the man still made people’s heads turn). He could vaguely recall him explaining the purpose of them last week, but it had fallen from memory and he felt it rude to ask again.

“Do you mind?” He asked, raising his eyebrows a little and Bro simply shrugged and reached up to take them off, this time folding them and placing them on the table before he went back to his position.

With the shades gone, he now had a moment to fully examine the other’s face. Yes, ridiculously attractive was almost an understatement. He couldn’t even begin to describe just how out of his league a man like this was. The blonde hair was neither here nor there, as in today’s society, it was possible for anyone to pass off as being any hair colour they wished, but still, he couldn’t help but notice how it held a certain dry, dull tone to it. Sun damage, perhaps, from the heat of the south.

He had always been more fond of brunettes.

The eyes though, now they were nothing that could be bought. Not even a pair of contact lenses would look so striking. A slight genetic mutation? Perhaps, and it led him to briefly wonder if Dave had the same, although he would never be so rude as to ask how his (or Dave’s, should the case be) came about. That was not his place. His place was to simply admire the way they sat in his face, beautifully bordered by fine, light eyelashes.

Then came his nose, sharp just like the rest of his facial structure. He felt strange analysing him like this, but Bro was making no move to look away or stop him so he continued. His eyes glanced at the sideburns he had admired last time, before they fell on his lips. Thin and quirked into a slight smirk as if knowing that Mr. Egbert was utterly in awe of Bro’s face was pieced together.

“So you wanted to discuss the oral sex?”

The words left Bro’s mouth as Dad’s eyes lingered on his lips and the way his tongue fluttered in his mouth as he spoke made each word sound (and look, if it was possible to see the words fall from his lips, which he was certain he did) seductive.

“I wished to discuss your motivation behind it, yes,” he replied, finally taking his eyes off Bro to look around the room.

“My motivation was you were hot. You still fucking are. I don’t regret doing it and by the way you didn’t slam the door in my face when I got here, I’m thinking you’re feeling the same, so how about we act like adults?”

“I was under the impression that a discussion was the mature thing to do.”

“Well, it fucking ain’t. You’re over forty, I’m over thirty. We’re both adults and we can do what the fuck we want. Don’t need no discussion. I liked how you were looking, you liked my advances, I dropped to my knees and sucked you for everything you were worth. Ain’t much more to it, yo.”

The way Bro added ‘yo’ occasionally to his sentences made him wonder if Bro was, in fact, in his thirties. He wasn’t going to be petty right now though because despite the way he worded it, he had a point. They were both consenting adults. They were not teenagers who needed to go on fifty dates before they gave it up to each other. So what if they had been drunk. They were both legal to do so and it had felt good. People did that kind of thing all the time. They went to bars to pick up people to have casual sex with. Whilst he hadn’t done that before, as such, why did that mean he couldn’t do that now? Was what he did really that different?

His son had told him time and time again to get with the times. Perhaps this was not exactly what his son had meant, but it was close enough. He would much rather engage in physical acts with a man like Strider than sport some t-shirt with an obnoxious tick on it.

“Is it because I’m a dude?” Bro asked after a while, and Mr. Egbert realised that he had been deep in thought.

He found himself shaking his head because, out of all the things he had been thinking about; fretting about! the fact that Bro was indeed, a man, had not particularly crossed his mind. He had been a child of the 70s, and whilst he was not a homosexual, he had been with men before. He had no idea what kids these days were calling people like him. He just thought it better to enjoy being with the person he was currently with, rather than searching for a certain kind. He wasn’t foolish enough to believe that gender didn’t matter, but at the same time, he wasn’t naive enough to believe that it was all that mattered.

“That is not a problem.”

“So you’re a fag?”

Dad found himself glaring at Bro. “Language!”

“Man, relax. I’m allowed to say that since I’m all about cock,” Bro said, waving his hand.

“I’m almost certain that it doesn’t work like that.”

“Whatever. I don’t get what the problem is. You like dick, I love dick. From the way you all up and gawked at me, I know you think I’m hot shit so attraction ain’t a problem. I think you’re so fucking sexy, I been nursing a semi since I got through the door.” He paused, reaching up to run a hand through his own hair. “Look, what is it exactly? I mean, when we were messing around, you were real fucking into it. What is making you run away from this shit? I’m basically offering you my body and I ain’t ever had no one hesitate the way you’re doing.”

Mr. Egbert took in another deep breath before sighing heavily. Despite everything he was going over in his head, the only real reason he had to not do anything with Bro was the only reason he had chosen not to dwell on because the mere thought had his stomach twisting in an uncomfortable way.

“My son is your brother’s best friend. He does not have very many friends, Mr. Strider,” he started, his fingers twitching in his lap and he wished he was still holding his drink, just so he would have something to do with his fingers. His pipe would be a better choice, but he didn’t have one to hand.

As though he had read his mind, he soon found Bro tapping a cigarette at his mouth and without questioning it, he opened his mouth and took it between his lips, inhaling as he raised a naked flame to light it. His eyes flickered to Bro as he leaned in to share the lighter and they both moved away, leaving behind a plume of smoke.

It had been a while since he had smoked a cigarette and he found the filter tip a pleasant change for his lips. Whilst he enjoyed his pipe, he would not deny that there really was nothing like a cigarette and he found himself almost missing the feeling of having a cigarette between his lips; between his fingers.

“John is a strange boy. He forms attachments and he is very fond of Dave. If we were to get together and split... if it turned out that I was the reason for him and Dave parting ways... I could never forgive myself. Surely you understand.”

He glanced over at Bro and found himself blatantly staring because never before had smoking looked so sexy. Bro was a poster boy for why everything bad in life was so good. He was like sin incarnate.

He was slightly surprised, though, when he saw Bro nod in agreement.

“Then you understand why you and I could never be we?”

“Yeah...” Dad almost looked disappointed before Bro quipped back in with a but. A man like Bro always had a but. “But you assume that I want us to be a we.” Dad raised an eyebrow, staring at him as they both took a drag on their cigarettes. “I ain’t into commitment, dude. I like sex. I occasionally like company. I tried to have a relationship once. With Dave and my business, I didn’t have time for it. If we had a relationship, I would fuck it up. Don’t try and reassure me that I wouldn’t, because I would. You don’t get to my age without learning what you can and can’t do. Relationships are something I can’t do.”

“What is it you are suggesting?”

Bro shrugged and relaxed into the sofa, exhaling into the air. “I don’t want no relationship with you. I don’t wanna date you. I don’t wanna have anything with you that would compromise the friendship between the kids. I’m just saying that I don’t mind your company, I like how you look and I’m real interested in learning about scotch.”

“So what would that make us, just to be one hundred percent certain on this. I do not wish to misunderstand.”

“I’m saying that we’ll just be two guardians who enjoy each other’s company every once in a while and impart wisdom upon each other. “

Mr. Egbert wasn’t exactly confident he was certain what Bro was getting at. Was he suggesting they become friends with benefits? He had seen a film about that a while ago on television. It had starred a singer from a boyband John took an interest in when he was younger (although he vehemently denied that now).

The film had been terrible, but he had a basic grasp of what perhaps he was implying. There had been a number of problems in the film. They had eventually ended up falling for each other. He briefly wondered if Bro had seen any of the films about such matters. If he had, he seemed to be completely disregarding any love related problems that could occur. Unless Bro thought a man like Mr. Egbert was unworthy of his love and romantic attraction.

He let out a long sigh. He was overthinking it. He was definitely overthinking it.

“So we are keeping this as say, a friendship? Just two males, being friends and occasionally participating in sexual acts with each other?” He raised an eyebrow as he watched Bro lean forward to pour them both some more scotch, a little more than the suggested amount for a single drink, but Dad wasn’t going to point that out right now.

Bro nodded, a small smirk on his face as he placed a now filled glass into Dad’s hand. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I want 'cause after all, what’s a bit of anal sex between friends?”

Chapter Text

Dave watched as John searched his fridge, a common practice carried out by the young Egbert when he visited the Strider household. He knew why. Bro bought food that John wasn’t allowed. Lucky Charms, for instance, were a critical food group Dave had discovered John lacked. The effects of John receiving such things were amusing, so he never stopped him, even when John had consumed pretty much everything of Dave’s.

However, today, he found himself growing slightly agitated as he watched his friend. Instead of simply performing a full blown raid on the fridge (which he had made sure was sword free), John had taken to examining each product and putting it back after reading the label. It was strange behaviour.

“Dude, seriously, what the fuck are you doing? Can we just like, get out the giant block of cheese, melt it and dip the slices of cold pizza in it?” That was what he wanted more than anything.

However, John shut the fridge door and turned to look at him with empty hands. “No, we can’t, okay? Do you know how many calories are in cheese?”

Dave’s mouth slowly opened as he stared at his friend, a look of horror in his eyes beneath his shade. His friend had said the dreaded C word, a word that was very rarely mentioned around a Strider. The calorific values of food never crossed the mind of a Strider, and up until now, he assumed John had the same stance. After all, he had seen his friend put away an entire ice cream cake in one sitting and still have room for burgers.

“Right, back the fuck up,” he started, raising his hands in the air. “No, I don’t know how many calories are in cheese and I don’t want to know. I don’t care. I don’t want to know about that shit.” He paused, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “However, I’m real fucking curious as to why you suddenly care.”

Shrugging, John pushed past Dave and started to rummage in one of the cupboards. “I was just thinking about stuff you say and stuff Vriska says and it’s like-”

“Whoa whoa, who is Vriska?” He asked, suddenly very interested in John’s life. This wasn’t to say that he lacked interest before; it was just that John so very rarely mentioned any other people aside from his father. So yeah, he was interested in who Vriska was, why he hadn’t mentioned her to him before and why she suddenly had such an influence on his life.

“She’s a junior. God, Dave, I’ve talked about her with you before.”

Dave narrowed his eyes, trying desperately to think and remember. There was no way John had mentioned her before. He shrugged and shook his head. “Nah man, you ain’t never mentioned her to me.”

Sighing, John pulled down a large bag of Cheetos from the cupboard and tugged them open, his hand delving in and pulling out a handful of the snacks, despite what he had said about the calorific value of cheese. “Dave, the last time you raided my computer, you asked me about her and I explained that she’s a girl that likes to talk to me.”

“So she’s what, your girlfriend?”

“No! She’s just… Vriska. She comes to me with her problems and we talk a lot and well, she’s just… She’s my friend,” he said with a small voice, looking down into the bag. “That’s all.”

Dave raised an eyebrow. Yeah, because juniors optionally spent their time with kids like John, but it wasn’t in his nature to be cruel and as far as he knew, Vriska could be the Queen of Dork someone like John needed. “What exactly have I and Vriska been saying about you then? I mean, I get that you’d care about what I say, but dude, you caring about what some girl has gotta say? That ain’t right.”

John shook his head as he pushed past Dave and plodded into the living room, dropping bright orange crumbs as he moved. “She just said that like, maybe I should cut back on the junk food. She said it would help my skin clear up and I’d lose my childish figure and-“

“Whoa, whoa.” Dave instantly joined John’s side, shaking his head with a glum look on his face. “Dude, there is nothing wrong with how you look. I told you before; it’s just like, puppy fat, y’know? You’ll grow out of it.”

“What if I don’t?”

“Then that’s just how it is. I don’t want you to all up and fucking change how you look and a chick ain’t gonna want that either,” Dave said, trying to sound comforting but it wasn’t exactly his area of expertise. “Look, just, don’t fucking start changing shit about yourself just ‘cause some girl said some shit.”

“You said it too,” he mumbled in response, raising an eyebrow as he glanced at his friend. “Everyone says it! Like, remember when the gym teacher said I was going to be needing a sports bra soon?!”

Dave let out a small huff, folding his arms. “Dude, stop being such a drama queen. You’re fine, you don’t gotta change anything. Well, I mean, ‘cept maybe your hair.”

He wasn’t sure why he said the hair comment, but the expression on John’s face had been worth it. A tiny laugh escaped his lips as he looked at his friend, his jaw slack with a handful of Cheetos threatening to fall from his open mouth.

“What the hell is wrong with my hair?!”


“Come on, old man, eat my ass.”

Mr. Egbert looked up from between Bro’s legs, a look of disdain plastered on his face. He most certainly did not want to do that. He had no qualms about sliding onto the ground and nestling himself between Bro’s naked and spread legs. He had no issues giving Strider exactly what he had given him before. He didn’t see a problem with doing that. He saw it as returning the favour.

But doing…that? No.

“I’m not going to perform anilingus on you,” he said sternly, trying his best to ignore the laughter coming from the other’s mouth.

“Dude, what? I just want a rim job before you inevitably fuck me.”

He rolled his eyes as he returned his gaze to between Bro’s legs. The longer he stared, the further out of his depth he realised he was. He was in no position to please a man like Bro. Yes, he was a prime position to have access to do so, but he lacked the skills the younger man was probably used to and was unable to fully express the enthusiasm he probably expected. It wasn’t that he was apathetic or inexperienced when it came to such things (although compared to the man before him, he probably rivalled the Virgin Mary for purity); it was just that like before, he hadn’t planned for such a thing to occur.

If Mr. Egbert was one thing, it was prepared. He enjoyed a good plan and found it satisfying to carry one out to fruition. Bro, on the other hand, seemed like one of those go-with-the-flow kinds of chaps, and whilst he may have been like that when he was younger, his found that with age came responsibilities and he preferred the safety of a well thought out course of action.

Despite this, he doubted that he would have been able to stick to a plan with the amount of alcohol he had put away. He made a mental note to drink less next time, that is if there was going to be a next time and that was also relying on the fact that his sober mind would be able to conjure up a thought from the previous night.

He had his doubts that he would remember, but he was certain that getting up to find a pen and paper whilst Bro gripped his own thighs and held his legs open might be considered rude.

Clearing his throat, he moistened his lips, his eyes fixated on Bro’s hard cock, still glistening with his saliva from a moment ago. Had he been too eager? Was that the reason why Strider was trying to move things along? Yes, he hadn’t done this kind of thing for a while, but he didn’t think he could be that rusty, He likened sexual acts to riding a bike. Once you learn, you don’t forget.

“You seem awfully sure of yourself right now. What makes you think I’m going to make love to you?”

He heard Bro laugh again and he was finding it increasingly hard to convince himself that Bro was laughing with him (as he had lost his own sense of humour the moment he had slid to the ground and put his mouth around Strider’s dick) as opposed to at him.

“Okay dude, we ain’t making love, for starters. We gonna fuck.” He paused for a moment, giving Dad a moment to glance up at him again with the same look of disdain he had previously. “As for how I know, well, I know a sure thing when I see one. You, old man, are a sure thing. You’re blowing me, yeah. You’re probably thinking that if you give me a quick BJ, everything will stop and you’ll be able to take it nice and slow. News flash, yo. I don’t want shit nice and slow and you’re way past the age where you got the luxury of time.”


“You kinda suck at this game, Dave,” John mumbled, much to Dave’s annoyance.

He didn’t suck. He was letting John win. There was no way a Strider would lose when it came to video games. He was letting John land those hits and combos.

“Yeah well, not as much as your old man sucks my bro’s dick,” he retorted, scowling as he ‘let’ John’s character uppercut his, but he managed to land a series of hits before he felt the feeling of hard plastic on the back of his head. He made sure to hit pause before he turned to look at his friend.

“Dave! Christ! Don’t say that kind of shit, seriously. Like, it was funny at first but now it’s just creepy and wrong that you keep bringing it up.”

John had a point. It was literally wrong. Dave only knew that Bro had done something to Mr. Egbert. He didn’t know if Mr. Egbert had done anything in return, and honestly, he didn’t want to put too much thought into that. He had too much respect for John’s old man to imagine him with a dick in his mouth and that was that.

“Besides, I um, I think my dad really, really dislikes Bro. I mean, he hasn’t said much about him and when I kinda brought it up, he was like ‘Mr. Strider is a delightful young man’ or something. It’s not a good sign. He is like an open book. I could sense the hate, Dave. I could sense it,” John said with a deadly serious look on his face that almost made Dave break and blurt out what he knew.

But he held back for once. “He’s cool with me though, right?”

John shrugged, putting his controller down. “He still thinks you swear too much, but you know how my dad is. He’s just really old fashioned. Him and Bro will probably like, never get along and he will probably disapprove of you both until the end of time, but I made sure I told him that I wasn’t going to stop being your friend just because he can’t get on with Bro.”

“Yeah, you make sure you tell him,” Dave mumbled with a slightly amused smile. It amazed him how incorrectly John could interpret his dad’s words, but that wasn’t his problem. Maybe it wasn’t his place to tell him at all. That was probably some kind of father-son thing they needed to work out. He didn’t know much about that sort of stuff.

“I did! I was pretty proud of myself and I think my dad was kinda shocked. It’s just, he has to stop being like that. He needs to accept other people. It’s like, eugh. It’s like he’s Windows 95. Totally outdated and incompatible with anything these days. And you and Bro are like Macs or some-“

“I’m a Mac. Bro is more Linux.”

“Whatever, point is, he needs to get with the times and stop being such…”

“A square.”

John nodded, sighing as he picked up the controller. “Yup, he needs to just…”

Dave unpaused the game, laughing a little to himself. “Become a rhombus?”



Bro had only made it as far as the stairs before he collapsed, although collapsed was an undignified term to use. He hadn’t exactly collapsed. He had just been staggering to the stairs to go to Mr. Egbert’s bedroom when he realised that he hadn’t really had a good look at the carpets on the floor of the family home. He had simply gone in for a better look and just failed to stand back up again.

They were deep blue with some kind of flower on them. They weren’t worn away like the carpets in his own home. That probably had something to do with Mr. Egbert’s obsessive cleaning, he assumed. Still, despite that, he couldn’t help but notice a black sock on one of the stairs and he decided to concentrate on that for a while.

Which was why he failed to move from his diagonal position on the staircase.

Well, that was the reason he would give if anyone asked.

“Strider, is it really your intention to pass out on my stairs?” Came a voice from behind him.

He swallowed down the urge to throw up as he craned his neck around slowly. He was not going to vomit. He hadn’t drunk that much (had he? He’d lost track of his alcohol intake a while ago). There was no way he was going to let anyone see him as anything but a heavyweight when it came to drinking. If he could drink an entire keg whilst on his head, he could stomach the scotch.

Trying to look cool and play it off, he placed his palms down on one of the steps and pushed himself up, making sure to wiggle his ass as he did so. “Nah man, ain’t passin’ out. Just didn’t feel like doin’ it in your fuckin’ room. Why don’t ya just take me on the stairs? It’s hot and spontaneous.” And meant he didn’t have to move much more, but he chose to leave that bit out.

“No, let’s not have any of your silliness now,” Mr. Egbert said, shaking his head as he moved in closer and slipped his arms around him, jolting Bro up slightly.

That was not a good move on his part.

Bro made an unpleasant noise before he weakly slapped away Dad’s arms with one hand.

“I wanna fuck on the stairs,” he repeated, slurring each word as he managed to sit up on his knees long enough to take his shirt off and throw it in the general direction of the banister. “We’re fuckin’ on the stairs an’ I don’t give a shit what you say ‘cause I’m from Texas and that means you do as I fuckin’ say.”

“I highly doubt-“

He grunted, shaking his head. Mr. Egbert was the only man he had ever met that seemed so eager, yet unwilling to fuck him. Under normal circumstances, he would possibly find it endearing, but as it stood, he had a boner and he was horny, so it was just irritating to him.

“Dude, just fucking, you look like a military man, can’t you all up and take some fucking orders?”

“Mr. Strider, I regret to inform you that I am truly just a sales-“

“No no,” he mumbled, waving his hand in the air before he had to slam it back down onto the carpet to steady himself. “Let me just, go with that thought.” He allowed himself a moment to think of the other man in a military setting, but his mind continued to drift and finding it impossible to concentrate on one thought.

Despite how Mr. Egbert seemed by everything Bro said, he soon heard the sound of a zipper opening and he was pleased to finally be getting his own way. He spread his legs in anticipation, setting himself up on the stairs for the sex he so desperately wanted from the older man, only to have them pushed closed again.

“Dude, come on, knock it the fuck off. Fuck me properly,” he grumbled; opening his legs slightly again, only to have Mr. Egbert push them closed once more, much to his dismay. Whatever he was going to do did not involve the usual acrobatics Bro was used to performing, and he wasn’t sure whether to be disappointed or grateful, given his current level of intoxication.

“I will… eventually.”

Bro wasn’t sure if that eventually meant later today or in the near future, but he had very little time to dwell on what he had said before he heard the all too familiar sound of someone spitting into their hand.

Great, he was with a man whose only knowledge of anal sex was actually Brokeback Mountain.

He was in no mood to be buggered raw by an old man on a staircase.

However, his body lacked the same speed as his mind. His head was saying ‘get the fuck up, Bro’ but his body was a complete dead weight. He was fairly certain the only reason he hadn’t fallen face first into the carpet again was the hand on his hip, propping him up somehow.

“Until you are able to make it to my bedroom and we are able to take the correct precautions, this will have to suffice,” Mr. Egbert mumbled before Bro felt a hardness slide between his thighs and his eyes went a little wider in confusion and surprise.

Having the career he had, very few sexual acts confused him (or surprised him, for that matter) but this was sex, or as close as he was going to get to sex right now, with Mr. Egbert. He was the ridiculously attractive square with the pipe, and he had never expected him to even attempt such a compromise. He had assumed that anything other than the basic hand, mouth or ass was out of the question. It wasn’t that he thought this was particularly risqué, compared to most things he did, this was more vanilla than the ice cream he had in his freezer back home,

“T-The fuck are you doin’, old man?” He mumbled, his hands awkwardly gripping the stairs as Mr. Egbert started to thrust. For some reason, he had the notion that the older man would be gentle, but the pace he started with was fast, almost brutal, if he could bring himself to use that word in association with a man like Mr. Egbert.

“Something I want to do.”

Something he apparently wanted to do was fuck Bro’s thighs at a dizzying speed. He was used to quick things. He lived his life in the fast lane, but this was unexpected and he found himself enjoying it a little too much too soon. However, what he had expected was what had the most undesirable effect on him. He didn’t want to finish so soon, but as Mr. Egbert leaned over him and started to whisper compliments into his ear, he found himself welcoming his words, his body reacting in a more than positive fashion.

He groaned and pushed back as Mr. Egbert told him how attractive he was; told him how perfect his body was; told him how delightful the noises he was making were. Compliments were not part of a friends with benefits agreement. That kind of talk was reserved for lovers who knew each other. Yes, he normally had the tendency to run his mouth during sex, but this was different. The tone of Mr. Egbert’s voice was sincere and each word that dropped from the older man’s lips made his body tremble; made him comfortable in nodding and gasping and moaning for him to continue.

It wasn’t until he felt Mr. Egbert’s hands gently glide up and down his sides, felt his lips connect with the taut skin on his back that he realised that all would be over before he could really have a chance to turn the tables and let him know that lovers was something they were not. That this was strictly an arrangement that benefited both of them on a purely physical level.

He let out a long, shaky moan as he climaxed, the sensation of having Mr. Egbert kiss his back being the thing to finally push him over the edge, not that he would admit that. No way, he’d claim it was the hot meat on meat action. He would say that it was the sensation of having Mr. Egbert’s thick dick fucking his thighs and prodding his balls that made him cum harder than he could ever recall. Luckily, he doubted anyone would ask him what made him climax, as he doubted that anyone aside from the people involved would ever find out (or care, for that matter).

He didn’t want to rush Mr. Egbert though. He wasn’t one to get annoyed just because it took the other guy a little longer, and Mr. Egbert was getting on in years, he told himself. It wasn’t because he was a better lover or anything like that, he refused to even consider that at all.

He shifted a little, squeezing his legs closed around Mr. Egbert’s cock, enjoying the sensation of having the head of his cock nudge against his own softening dick. If he hadn’t have drank as much as he did, he probably would have got another boner, but the mere thought of having to yet again climb the mountain that was his orgasm was too daunting right now, and was, in itself, a complete turn off, despite how arousing it was to have Mr. Egbert’s dick slide over his balls.

Bro wasn’t sure what he expected when it came to Mr. Egbert and what he hoped was his impending orgasm. He had gathered that Mr. Egbert was a slight clean freak from the way he kept his home and himself, but to hear him mumble “Strider, please, I have no desire to ruin my carpet with my own semen, would you excuse me?” in a shaky voice, was possibly one of the most amusing things he had ever heard. Being the man that he was, before the older man had a chance to leave, he clamped his muscular thighs around his cock and pushed back, his hand sliding down to tease the tip of his cock with his fingers.

After that, all he heard after that was a string of intelligible curses before he felt Mr. Egbert release onto his hand.

He wanted to respect Mr. Egbert’s wishes of not getting jizz on the carpet, but his body felt heavy and the added weight of the other man was starting to get to him. He was trying, but the events of the night had taken a toll on his body, and he soon found himself slinking down onto the stairs, his hands stretching to the sides to steady himself and inevitably, he found himself smearing the fluids on his hands onto the carpet and banister. He could faintly hear Mr. Egbert chiding him for it, but the lull of sleep was too tempting and before he could even comprehend or even attempt to respond, he found himself welcoming the warmth and comfort that closing his eyes was providing.

And for a second time, the last thing he felt was the familiar sensation of Mr. Egbert’s throw encasing his body.


Mr. Egbert awoke with a pounding in his head and an ache in his hips. His bed was empty, as it had been when he went to sleep, but he couldn’t stop himself from feeling disappointed. Part of him had hoped that Bro would have climbed into his bed during the night, but it had never happened.

He slowly started his Saturday routine, which did not involve a shave or a shower. It involved him putting on his dressing gown and his slippers and lighting his pipe. He was always free to smoke on a weekend morning as John always slept in, although on this occasion, John was not even home so he felt no guilt in walking past his son’s room and leaving a trail of smoke. He would make sure to open a window before midday to air out the house before John returned home, but for now, he could enjoy his pipe in peace.

And perhaps enjoy something else.

Last night had not exactly gone how he had intended. He was not sure what he had expected, but that had most certainly not been on the agenda. He was pleased with himself though. He had successfully managed to make Strider climax before himself, despite being what he thought was clumsy and awkward. From the way the other man had acted, it had been an enjoyable experience for both people and that was all he could really aim for when it came to sexual encounters.

Smiling slightly, he allowed his train of thought to drift to other things. He thought about how much he would have preferred it if Bro had come to bed with him, and how much he would like to have kissed him last night. He would have time to do that now though, he figured as he moved towards the stairs. And he would have time to make Bro breakfast and give him coffee and they could perhaps enjoy a pleasant conversation, as he now knew that Bro was more than able to do so. Then perhaps they could do something with the day.

But before he could begin to think up any plans, the stairs came into full view and he noticed that there was a certain temporary feature missing.

“Strider?” He called out, holding the pipe between his lips as he descended down the stairs and picked up the throw that had been left messily at the bottom. He briefly noted the marks on his carpet. He would need to remove those before John came home, but luckily, due to the fact that he was raising a teenage boy and had been one himself, he knew the most effective ways to remove semen from various types of fabric.

As he folded the blanket, he moved towards the sofa, his eyes darting around to look for the younger man’s clothes. His jeans were gone, his shoes and shades too. All that he could see was the empty glasses, his bottle of scotch and an ashtray with numerous cigarette butts in.

Chapter Text

When Bro stumbled through his own front door, he wasn’t sure what time it was, or even what day it was. He just knew that whatever day it was, it ended in a y, and that he had the worst throbbing pain between his thighs, which could easily rival the pain in his head, back, knees and neck.

He was starting to get too old for this shit.

Throwing his keys onto the sideboard (and missing by a mile), he meandered into the kitchen, trying his best to keep upright. That was easier said than done though, and he soon found himself gripping onto the counter to steady himself.

“Wow, you really look like shit, Mr. Strider,” came an all too chirpy voice that made him cringe and want to personally rupture his eardrums just so he didn’t have to deal with such a sound so early in the morning. At least he assumed it was early. Mr. Egbert hadn’t been awake when he’d left and the guy didn’t seem like the kind of man to sleep in too much.

He groggily located the source of the voice and let out a long sigh. John Egbert, the only person who had probably seen him in such a state as many times as Dave had. The kid had a way of creeping up on him and appearing at the most unwarranted times, but this time, it seemed Bro was the one who had interrupted him. He glanced at the glass of water in the kid’s hand, his mouth instantly feeling ten times drier than it did before.

“Yeah, thanks for the update on my appearance. Really appreciate it,” he mumbled. He couldn’t remain standing any longer. His need to sit down outweighed the need for fluids, so he took a seat at the kitchen table before looking at John again. “Don’t suppose you know how to make coffee?”

“Actually, I do. I make it for my dad on the mornings he looks like you, which aren’t as often as yours are, but whatever, it’s not my place to judge.”

Despite what he said, Bro could sense that the kid was judging him but he couldn’t bring himself to care. The kid had seen him naked and sprawled out on the roof with a dildo super-glued to his chest before. This was, by comparison, pretty normal. Just a guy with a hangover.

He watched John prepare the coffee quietly, obviously attempting to make as little noise as possible. He was a good kid, as far as children went. Dave could have learnt a lot from him if Bro didn’t spend every waking moment purposely undoing every good manner and lesson he might have taken on from the outside world. There had been a few mishaps since Dave and John had started hanging out. Dave asking for vegetables was one. Another was him saying ‘frick’ instead of fuck.

Bro kind of understood the vegetables thing, but the swearing? That he didn’t really understand. Why say ‘frick’ when fuck is a better alternative?

At least he hadn’t taken to wearing PJs like John did. Bro had bought him a pair of Dora the Explorer ones last Christmas as a gag gift and he’d worn them most nights until he started having regular sleepovers with John. The fact that his little brother had started just wearing underwear to bed didn’t ring any alarm bells. He didn’t worry about any inappropriateness.

Not when Dave was sharing a room with a kid wearing Ghostbusters PJs. He was pretty certain that Dave would be unable to even get morning wood with those in the vicinity, or any other kind of wood for that matter. It was just impossible to get a boner when hundreds of Slimers were looking at you.

Finally, John sets a cup of coffee in front of Bro and he cringes a little when the lower buttons on his shirt pop open. The kid needed a diet, or at least needed to lay off the cake. He wondered if it was too early in his friendship with Mr. Egbert to suggest such a thing.

It was that which triggered a thought in his head.

“Hey fatty boom boom, you got chubby thighs. Do they ever chafe?”

“What?” John looked at him with a bewildered expression, clearly unsure as to whether he should answer the question or take offence at what Bro had said. Luckily for him, he settled on the latter. “Um, well, my dad bought me this special runner’s lube for when I have gym, but like, just Vaseline works just as well. I keep some in my locker. It can feel kinda nasty, but it’s better than ending up with sore thighs!”

Bro raised an eyebrow, glancing between John and his cup. He didn’t even know what to respond to first. “You keep Vaseline in your locker?”

“Yeah, it’s mainly for winter. Um, I don’t really want to explain why.”

He was more than intrigued now. Taking a sip of his coffee, he leaned forward slightly, trying his best to look impassive, like he wasn’t dying to know the reason. He figured gangbangs with the football team after gym. “C’mon dude, you gotta tell me now.”

Sighing, he turned around to refill his glass of water. “Look, it’s colder in the winter up here than you’re used to and sometimes, my junk feels really uncomfortable.” He paused, looking down at his feet before he finished his sentence in a quiet voice. “So I put Vaseline on my balls.”

Bro stared blankly at the kid and for once, was at a complete loss as to what to say. He took in a deep breath, his mind swarming with a million and one things to respond with. He wanted to mock so desperately, but he just couldn’t decide on exactly which phrase to use. Raising his cup to his mouth, he took a small sip, allowing the coffee to soothe him for a moment so he could decide exactly how to respond.

Unfortunately, just as went to open his mouth and make, what he thought to be, the wittiest response known to man, Dave appeared and started loudly routing through the cupboard. He hadn’t even noticed the kid come into the room. He felt proud of the fact that maybe his ninja based skills were improving, but at the same time, he held a sense of dread in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t need Dave creeping around.

“Dude, you look like shit,” Dave mumbled as he pulled out a box of Lucky Charms and set about eating only the dry marshmallow pieces, glancing between Bro and John before speaking with his mouth full. “What were you two discussing?”

“Just dumb shit,” John replied with a shrug.

“John was telling me about his balls.”

“Like how he puts Vaseline on them in the winter?” Dave asked with a raised eyebrow.

Bro nodded, taking another mouthful of his coffee. “Yeah. Imagine sticking your hand down some guy’s pants and getting a handful of Vaseline balls.”

They both visibly shuddered, causing John to scoff loudly and roll his eyes. “God, you two will learn that winter up here is way different to winter in Texas. It’s going to be funny. You’ll be begging for my Vaseline in no time.” He took another sip of his water, moving over to Dave to try and get some dry cereal.

“I highly doubt it, Egbert,” Dave said as he pulled the box away from John and went to sit down at the table, leaving John standing around. “How did you even get onto the subject of John’s ball lube?”

“Your bro like, had chafing thighs or something,” he called out from the fridge, Dave slightly glad to see that John as clearly unconcerned about calories so early in the morning. “Has chafing? I really don’t know and I’m not sure I want to. I mean, how does a guy like Bro even have that problem? I thought it was for well… guys like me or like, people who do a lot of sport stuff.”

Dave looked over at Bro, and Bro could have sworn he saw a look of knowing in his eyes before either of them spoke.

“Yeah Bro, what’s up with your thighs? Did you piss your pants and try to outrun the cops again?”

He finished off his coffee before he cleared his throat and set his mug down. “Well see, your old man didn’t use enough lube last night when he fucked my thighs. He’s like a wild animal, doing such sordid and degrading things to me. He just started humping me like a dog. It was humiliating, more for him than me. Seriously. ” He smirked a little, looking straight at Dave before glancing over at John. “Wild. Animal.”

He watched Dave pale slightly, but before he could make another remark, John slammed his glass down on the counter. “Okay, you both need to fucking stop this bullshit about my dad. I’m fed up of him constantly being the like, punch line of your shitty jokes! He’s my dad, okay? My dad! How would you feel if I made jokes about sleeping with Bro, Dave?”

Dave shrugged, leaning back in his chair. “Wouldn’t really care. The guy makes porn in his free time; I’m surprised you don’t make more jokes about him. His entire existence is pretty much a joke.”

Bro grunted slightly, making a mental note to get Dave back for making such a comment.

“A-And you! You!” John moved over to the table, pointing a finger right in Bro’s face. “You’re like, old! You should know better than to joke about this! And it’s really mean! My dad hasn’t dated anyone for a long time so it’s like, kinda cruel to joke about it, and you know he can’t defend himself because he isn’t here and even if he was, he wouldn’t because he’s too polite! You’re being a dick! You both need to knock it off! He’s not even gay and if he was, there is no way he’d be caught dead with the likes of you!”

Everything went quiet and the only thing that was audible was the heavy breathing coming from John. Dave’s mouth hung a little slack, clearly in shock from seeing his best friend explode, and Bro was simply staring at John from behind his shades.

“Uh, John, you might want to-”

“No! No I won’t scamper away or apologise! I know for a fact that my dad was at home, ALONE last night! He has been very busy at work and he looked really sleepy and he probably fell asleep in his armchair at like, 8pm after having a drink and his pipe! Meanwhile, you were out like, grinding up against half naked men and women in some really shitty club that you probably go to claiming it to be ironic when it’s not! You’re just some guy in his thirties who likes to think he’s in his twenties and dresses like he’s some pre-pubescent boy!”

“John, dude, it was just a joke,” Dave mumbled, glancing over at Bro, who hadn’t moved or responded yet.

“Well I’m getting tired of these little sly comments about my dad. Like, they were just gross at first but you keep making them and now your brother is making them,” he mumbled, sighing. “Whatever, I’m going to go get my stuff. And no, before you ask, you’re not driving me home,” he said to Bro, frowning. “Dave’s comments about my dad are pretty innocent, but I know you. You’ll do something to him just to prove me wrong. He’s not like Dave, and he’s not like me. He can’t laugh about this kind of thing. He’s really serious, okay? So just don’t mention my dad again!”

Bro watched John leave before he turned his attention to Dave. His head was pounding and the pleasant effects of the coffee had worn off after being shouted at. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had managed to muster up enough courage to actually shout at him. He was impressed.

He cleared his throat, slumping down further into the chair. “Man, I didn’t know you were all up and making jokes about Egbert’s old man too. Don’t work too well if both of us are making ‘em.”

“Yeah, jokes,” Dave simply replied before he stood up.

“You need anything before I go to work?”

Dave shook his head, and Bro could sense a certain tension in the air, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

“I’m not mad at your friend or nothing so don’t start getting like, all huffy with me.” He paused, shrugging. “And like, I have every reason to be ‘cause I don’t appreciate being spoken to like that in my own pad. Tell him not to do that. I mean, the kid needs to calm the fuck down. He don’t know everything about his dad, and I’d be real concerned if he knew the exact ins and outs of his old man’s sex life.”

He looked over at Dave, who was just standing by the doorway with a somewhat blank expression on his face. Nothing new, Dave always liked to give him that look if he’d done something wrong, or in this case, if his friend had done something wrong. He expected him to leave silently, but his brother actually responded.

“Yeah, but it’s not like you know a real lot about him either,” Dave mumbled, biting his lip slightly and Bro couldn’t help but frown as he stared at him. “I dunno, maybe we shouldn’t make any more jokes about Mr. Egbert. I gotta admit, if John and his dad stood around the kitchen saying shit about you, like, degrading shit… I’d be pretty pissed. Especially when the shit ain’t true.”

Bro reached up and adjusted his shades before he nodded. “Yeah, alright.” He could technically see what Dave was talking about, but he couldn’t help but want to sulk about it. He hadn’t been lying, but he could hardly explain that to Dave, and especially not to John. If Mr. Egbert knew he had even jokingly said that to his son, Bro was pretty certain he’d have a heart attack. “I can still make fun of his bitch tits though, right?”

Dave waved his hands, pushing away from the doorframe. “Go nuts, but if he sits on you, you’re on your own.”


“You want me to fuck you, don’t you, Mr. Egbert?”

He couldn’t stop himself from nodding eagerly as Bro approached him. He didn’t bother to speak, there was little point. Anything he would say would be completely disregarded by the other man. He knew that look in his eyes. It was so predatory, so lust filled. It had been so long since someone had looked at him like that.

“You try so hard to make yourself look like this dignified gentleman, when deep down, all you want is some trailer trash to pin you down and fuck you into your mattress. Or hey, maybe a mattress would be too good for a depraved guy like you. Maybe you should be fucked on the ground like the animal that you are.”

He again, didn’t bother to respond. Instead, all he did was nod along, his breath coming out in short, quick gasps as Bro finally placed his hands on his body and-

“Hi dad!”

Mr. Egbert jumped up from the table, knocking his chair back as he quickly shook off the daydream he had been in the middle of. Thankfully, he was still wearing his apron. His half erection was more than hidden from his son’s gaze as he plodded into the kitchen. He blinked hard, picking the chair up before he moved over to the cooker and started to play with the timer on it.

“What were you thinking about? You seem kind of out of it.”

He sighed, pressing down the reset button before he pulled on his oven gloves and opened the cooker door. The timer had not gone off, and he had been so consumed with his own thoughts that he hadn’t even smelled the burning cake. He pulled out what should have been a chocolate cake and moved over to the bin, instantly discarding it. He was in no mood to try and save his baking.

“Just, adult things, son,” he replied, shaking his head as he placed the tray down on the counter and threw his oven gloves on top, deciding it was best to keep the apron on, despite the fact that the sight of his burnt cake had more than rid him of any arousal. “Did you have a nice time with Dave?”

“Yeah, we played this really dumb game called Boogie Bunnies for like, five hours. Seriously, it was the stupidest thing ever but it was addictive as hel-I mean, it was really addictive. You had to match up the coloured bunnies, and if you got the turquoise ones, they started dancing and everything went crazy.”

Dad smiled to himself as he took out a plate and set out some cookies neatly on it, homemade of course. “That sounds delightful. Much more suitable than those cod games, which quite frankly make no sense to me. Why name a video game about war after a fish?” He mused as he moved to the fridge and poured a glass of milk, before taking both items to John, who had settled at the breakfast bar.

He watched as John burst out laughing and eagerly took a cookie, shoving it in his mouth. “God, dad, no, it stands for Call of Duty?” He corrected with a grin, gulping down his milk. “And oh, that reminds me. A new one comes out next month and I really want it. Can I have it? Please?”

“I don’t know, son, they are terribly violent…”

Before he could continue, John had slipped off the stool he was sat off and had disappeared. He briefly wondered where he had gone until his son returned a moment later, carrying a laptop.

“No, see, look,” he muttered, opening the laptop before turning it towards his father. “Needs your password. Then just load me up a browser. You’ll understand why I need it once you’ve seen the trailer.”

Mr. Egbert gave him a sceptical look before he inputted his password and waited a moment, a flurry of programmes starting up as soon as he logged in. He waited a moment, shooting his son as smile as he finished up his cookies. He slowly moved his finger over the touchpad before double clicking on the blue e icon, turning it back to his son.

“Wow, I can’t believe you use Internet Explorer still… but anyway.”

He watched as John typed something in at a ridiculously fast speed, but before he could dwell on that, the laptop screen was thrust back in his face and he could only focus on the video on the screen. He leaned on the counter, watching it intently. Why his son would want to play this was beyond him. If it was a film, he would perhaps watch it, but he couldn’t imagine wanting to dedicate hours of time into actively playing such a thing.

It did seem to have more of a plot than the mindless war games of the previous ones he had seen John play though.

“I’m not sure, it seems very violent…” He muttered.

“No no, come on, most of the violence would just be in the cut scenes, I swear.” John dragged the laptop back towards himself, shaking his head as he took another sip of his milk. “See, it had horses and everything, so it’s obviously more than just a war game. Like, maybe I’ll get to raise and train horses in it!”

Now, that did sound like a good thing. He nodded to himself, standing up straight again. If it was a game in which you bred horses for war, trained them and such, he could certainly get on board with that. He did not enjoy the mindless slaughter in the games his son played, but if there was some kind of other tasks…

He rolled his eyes, looking at John. “I will consider it for your Christmas present.”

“No no! I need it on release day so I can play it with Dave on Xbox live!”

He had no idea what that was. He ran his hand through his hair, leaning on the counter once again. “How much will it cost me?”

John grinned and slid off the stool again, putting his glass on his plate before he moved around to give his dad a quick hug. “Only $60! Thanks dad!”

Mr. Egbert barely had a chance to respond before John was running out of the kitchen. He hadn’t even agreed to it, but now he would feel bad if he didn’t buy the game. Had he agreed by asking how much it would cost? He didn’t think so, but his son had clearly taken it that way. He was starting to think he was becoming somewhat of a pushover.

“Oh, by the way, someone is talking to you on pesterchum. I minimised it to the taskbar.” He glanced over to his son lingering in the doorway. He was about to ask before his son continued speaking. “Are you going to go into work? Because I know you mainly use that for work things. Well, ‘cept when you’re telling me dinner is ready. But like, I assume you don’t message your friends to tell them dinner is ready.”

Dad moved around to take a seat, opening the window before his eyes went a little wide and he quickly looked around at John, smiling nervously. “No no! It’s nothing. I’ll be here all day. We’ll be having hot dogs for dinner. Try not to snack.”

John grinned, nodding before he disappeared once again. He waited until he heard the thud of footsteps on the stairs before he turned his attention to the pesterchum window.

--timeusTestified [TT] began pestering pipeFan413 [PF]--

TT: Egbert.
TT: You there?
TT: Man, how hard is it to get some good quality cybering going when I’m at work?
TT: Turns out very hard.
TT: Yo, dude, seriously, you shouldn’t leave this logged in.
TT: I might start just talking about your dick again.
TT: I could write a fucking novel on that thing.
TT: It would be long.
TT: A real thick piece of literature.
TT: Gotta make sure the book resembles your dick, y’know?

Mr. Egbert let out a groan, rubbing his temples slightly. He doubted John had seen that. If he had, he would have said something or at least reacted. Still, that was a little too close for comfort.

PF: My son was using my laptop.
TT: …
TT: Shit, did he see that?
PF: No.
PF: I don’t think so.
PF: If he did, he did not say anything to hint that he had.
TT: Judging by the way he talked to me this morning, the little guy ain’t got no problems exploding about little shit like this.
TT: So it’s safe to say that if he didn’t react, he didn’t see.
PF: What does that mean?
TT: Mini Egbert gave me some shit this morning.
TT: I made a joke.
TT: He was not impressed.
PF: I don’t think I want to know.
TT: Nah, probably not.
PF: Can I help you with something?
TT: As I said, just trying to get my cyber on with the hottest guy around.
PF: Goodness, I did not know people still did the whole ‘cybersex’ thing.
PF: I recall that being popular when chatrooms were first introduced back in the 90s.
TT: Dude, it’s a legit way to get off.
PF: It’s not a way I ‘get off’.
TT: No, you just prefer sticking your dick between my slender thighs.
PF: I’m not particularly in the mood for this, Strider.
PF: Especially not when you left so promptly this morning.
PF: I was going to make you breakfast.
TT: I don’t eat breakfast.
TT: Unless it’s leftover Chinese.
PF: When can I see you?
TT: You saw me last night.
PF: When can I see you again?

He stared at his laptop, waiting for a response. The other man was so quick to type, literally responding in seconds usually, and now he was taking his time? Perhaps he was looking at a calendar of sorts.

But seconds turned into minutes, and after ten had passed, he placed his fingers back on the keyboard.

PF: Strider?

He waited, and waited.

After another five minutes, he got to his feet and took his time in preparing himself a herbal tea before he returned to his unanswered message.

PF: Are you still there?
TT: Yeah, sorry, a swarm of hipsters came in and demanded shitty low fat lattes with extra cream.
PF: I’m sure.
PF: So, when can I see you again?
PF: There is a showing of Casablanca on at the old theatre this Thursday.
PF: I would be flattered if you would accompany me to it.
PF: It’s one of my favourite films.
TT: Uh, I’m gonna need to check my schedule, dude.
TT: Like, just, let me get back to you, alright?

--timeusTestified [TT] ceased pestering pipeFan413 [PF]--

Letting out a heavy sigh, he closed his laptop, knowing that Bro would most likely not get back to him, and if he did, he sensed he would be given some flimsy excuse for why he would be unable to join him.

Chapter Text

Just as expected, the week passed by at its normal pace, with its normal goings on and everything was completely and utterly normal for Mr. Egbert. Just as it had always been, just as he always thought it would be. He couldn’t deny the fact that since the appearance of the older Strider in his life, things had been much more eventful, even if it was just the occasional night.

Their meetings had been exceptionally sparse and brief, and yet he found himself constantly thinking about the other. He felt something for the other that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. It was certainly not love. He couldn’t be in love with a man like Bro. He was crass, uncultured, rude, childish... and amazing at giving head. He shook his head, ridding himself of that last thought.

Although as to why he didn’t want to think about that, he wasn’t sure. After all, that was all it was. Their first meeting had resulted in oral sex. Their second in non-penetrative sex. He could only imagine what their next encounter would entail.

But judging by the lack of talking from the other, imagine would be all he could do. He had tried to talk to him since their last meeting, but he had been met with nothing but silence, jokes or ambiguous answers. He had given up trying to invite him out for a date, something Bro seemed against, despite not directly saying it. All other communications had resulted in Strider saying nothing but lewd things to him after brief pleasantries.

He didn’t have the same kind of sex drive as Strider. His libido believed there was a time and a place for everything. Telephone sex was not appropriate during office hours. Sending pornographic images before breakfast was a no no. Then there was the awkward moment on Monday where Bro had tried to give him a hand job in his car when he had been sitting waiting for John after school.

Perhaps that was why the other man was reluctant to go on a date with him; after all, Bro’s interest in him did seem mostly physical.

He had tried to convince himself he wasn’t asking Bro on a date, but after the initial ambiguous response from the other, he had realised that yes, he was asking him on a date and yes, despite what he thought of Bro, on some level he did want to date him.

Why though, was beyond him. He was certain that the man was not his type at all. And he was beyond out of his league.

He was certain he could write a novel detailing exactly why Bro Strider was unsuitable as a partner for him, and in length, said novel would probably rival War and Peace.

“Hey dad, what are you doing tonight?”

Once again, his son’s voice jolted him out of his thoughts and he realised that he had been in the process of doing up his tie. He looked down at it, deciding to pull it loose and start again as he answered. “I am going to the local cinema. They are showing Casablanca, and since you and Dave decided to use my collection of classic DVDs as Frisbees last month, I have been unable to watch it recently and I do enjoy that film.”

“Yeah, um, sorry about that,” John muttered, shuffling slightly as he moved to lean against the wall Dad was facing. “Dave just was all ‘they’re black and white movies’ and all that. We didn’t think they were anything special.”

He let out a small sigh, glancing at his son before he set about fiddling with his tie once again. “Just try to have a bit more respect for my property in the future, yes?” He slowly pushed the knot up to his neck, his eyes now fixated on his reflection. It was no wonder Bro didn’t want to be seen in public with him. He looked tired and old. The bags under his eyes were getting darker by the day, the lines on his face deeper and his hair, well, the small patches of grey just above his ears were certainly getting larger.

John nodded, chewing on his lip slightly. “Are you going alone?”

“That was the plan, unless you wish to accompany me?”

“Nah, I’m good. Dave is coming over anyway to start this project we have to do for biology. I was just curious because you’re all dressed up. Thought maybe you had a date.”

Dad rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he reached over and placed a hand atop his son’s head, ruffling his hair slightly. “No son, not a date. Just a night alone at the movies for your old man.”

“You’re not that old,” John mumbled as he squirmed out from under his dad’s hand. “Anyway, don’t you have someone you could go with?”

“I did invite Mr. Strider to accompany me but unfortunately, he said he had plans,” he said quietly as he smoothed his tie down and placed his hat atop his head to cover his greying hair. “I do not mind going alone. After all, there is nothing more annoying than having someone talk during a motion picture.”

“So are you and Bro like, friends now or something?”

He tensed up slightly at the question, turning away from the mirror to busy himself in one of his drawers, not looking for anything in particular. “Yes, I suppose you would call it that. We speak quite often.” He was lying there, but John didn’t need to know the exact nature of their relationship. Not yet, anyway.


The knock at the door startled Mr. Egbert. He was due to leave in approximately ten minutes and they were not expecting visitors, well, none that he could recall, but his mind was particularly distracted. Part of him hoped it was Bro, hoped that he had come round and was going to surprise him by just turning up moments before he was due to leave for the theatre.

However, upon opening the door, he was greeted by a Strider, but of the wrong age range. It was then that he promptly recalled John mentioning Dave coming over, though the purpose of Dave’s visit had completely slipped his mind.

“Ah, Dave,” he started, standing aside to let the young boy in before he had a chance to barge past in his usual manner. “Always a pleasure to see you.”

“Yeah yeah. You don’t need to feed me any bullshit about it being a pleasure to see me, although y’know, I can totally understand why it would be a pleasure to see me. I’m looking pretty fine,” Dave mumbled, and Dad couldn’t help but watch the youngster as he wandered around the room, muttering nonsense under his breath about how attractive he found himself. The boy was truly a Strider.

“Come now, I have no qualms with you, and normally I would love to take a moment out of my day to entertain you and listen to you talk about your Callings of Duty or whatever it is you and John play, but unfortunately, I have somewhere I need to be.”

His eyes followed Dave as he made his way over to the TV, and he found himself feeling slightly uneasy. Dave was far more observant than John, and whilst he was certain that there was no remaining proof as to what Dad had done in the living room with Bro, he still felt extremely unsettled.

“I can tell. You’re all dressed up, Mr. E. I would say you brush up well, but hey, you’re always looking great to me.” He turned around with a small smile on his face, the rest of his expression hidden by his shades. “Don’t worry man, no homo. Well, not for you. Okay, maybe a little but hey, I don’t make moved on a taken man.”

Mr. Egbert swallowed hard as he reached up to adjust his tie once again. It was ridiculous, but he felt suddenly nervous, and pointlessly scared for some reason. Dave was just a teenager, and he was an adult. What he did was none of the youngster’s business, and he didn’t even have to stay around to justify himself, or explain anything.

Still, he found himself not moving from his spot, merely shuffling awkwardly side to side. “That is no way to speak to me, Dave, and I assure you that I am not-“

Dave waved his hands dismissively, shaking his head. “Dude, I ain’t gonna say nothing to John, before you flip your shit. Ain’t my place to do that, ain’t really yours either. Who you get freaky with is your own business, but I mean, shit man.” He let out a small laugh, and Dad found himself letting out a tense one to match it. “I really did not see that one coming. Out of all the plot twists in my life, that one was completely unexpected. Okay, like, I joked about it but I never thought that Bro would ever be able to bag a guy like you.”

“I take it your brother…” He started to speak, only to be cut off again.

“Nah, Bro didn’t tell me shit. Never does, but it is kinda funny how he thinks he can hide crap when he’s Mr. Fucking Obvious ninety percent of the time. Did you know that when I was younger, he actually tried to hide his line of work from me? The dumb fuck let me use one of his puppets as a pillow, and thought I didn’t know what he did with them. He’s such a stupid bitch sometimes.”

“So does he know that you-“

“Bro don’t know shit, and if he does, he ain’t mentioned it to me. He likes to think I’m dumb, and I like to keep up that act so that I can get shitty grades on my report card and not get my ass busted about it.” Dave laughed again, and Dad actually found himself letting out a genuine chuckle. Dave’s bad grades had always confused him. He knew the child was intelligent, but his grades were always lacking. He had always assumed the child just tested badly.

“You shouldn’t-“

“Do that? Yeah, I know. Shouldn’t do a lot of things. Anyway, you can quit being so nervous, your secret is safe with me. I just… Look, Mr. E, I think you’re great. You make me food and all that, but just… take care, y’know?”

Mr. Egbert frowned slightly, tilting his head as he looked at Dave. He was a fully grown man, he knew how to look after himself by now, and the fact that Dave thought he couldn’t was a little insulting. He could handle himself, and he could handle Mr. Strider (even if his recent attempts at trying to have a civilised conversation with the man had failed). That was just a setback. He had it under control, or so he had led himself to believe.

He sighed and moved toward the door. He really did have to leave. He may have seen the film countless times, but he just couldn’t stand the thought of being late. “I will be just fine, Dave, I assure you. Now, I really must be-“

“I’m not talking about you. I’m talking about Bro. I swear, if I come home one day to him blasting Taylor Swift, I’m gonna TP your house so bad.”


“Don’t give me that look,” Bro mumbled, glaring over at Cal from behind his shades. “What was I supposed to do? Say ‘Yeah, Mr. E, I’ll go on a date with you and then maybe we’ll go for a romantic walk to the outskirts of the city until we find a secluded spot and make love under the stars’?”

He pulled off his t-shirt, shaking his head. Despite what he had told Mr. Egbert, he had not had work. He had been at the gym for the better part of the day, trying desperately to ignore the voice in the back of his head that told him that he should be going to the cinema to see Casablanca with the man he had a massive crush on.

But he was a stubborn guy. He really hadn’t wanted this to go past anything more than just fooling around. He liked that with people. He liked to just fuck and maybe hang out. The whole relationship stuff had never worked out for him, and like Mr. Egbert had agreed, they were old enough to know what worked and what didn’t, old enough to do no strings attached.

What annoyed him was that Mr. Egbert had agreed and yet he had asked him to go on some sort of date. That wasn’t part of what they had going. That would ruin everything. So after he had managed to get him to stop mentioning the date, he had pestered him a lot, but only about sex. He just had to keep it purely physical. That was what he wanted.

He sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed. It was easier to lie to himself than it was to lie to Cal. He could never lie to his best friend.

“Yeah yeah, I know, I want that kind of over clichéd happy ending,” he admitted aloud, standing up again to start pacing back and forth. “I just, I ain’t even sure like… Dude, I’ve presented myself as this sex god who just thinks about dick and all that. I can’t suddenly fucking change, alright? I’ve got appearances to keep up.”

He paused, looking at Cal with an intense look on his face.

“…you have a point. Everyone is different when you first meet them, right? So like, maybe I just changed my mind about...” He tilted his head, nodding. “Okay, so you’re right, I don’t exactly want a relationship, but maybe the date thing could be cool?”

He waited for an answer, and when he got one, he couldn’t help but laugh. Cal was a funny fucker.

“You’re right. I don’t know how good he is in bed. I mean, all we really done is a bit of foreplay in the scope of things...but shit, he is so fucking good at that, man.” He darted over to his closet, pulling the door open and practically diving into the sea of mostly unworn formal attire. He only ever needed suits for award ceremonies and the occasional business or bank meeting.

He threw a few items onto the bed before he finished stripping down. He needed a shower. It would make him late, but he’d regret it if he didn’t wash.

“So like, I’ll do as you say. Seal the deal, go all the way and then work it out from there. Man, you always know the best shit to say, dude. Would have been helpful if you’d mentioned this half an hour ago, but hey, being on time ain’t exactly my thing.”


Mr. Egbert found himself mouthing along the words of the film as he watched. He must have seen it over one hundred times by now, and it never got old. Humphrey Bogart was the perfect man, in his eyes. No, he was not someone he wished to be with in that way, but someone he supposed he always aspired to be. He was the reason he had first picked up a cigarette when he was younger (although he had continued because he was fond of the taste) and he was certainly the reason for his love for scotch.

“So like, did I ever tell you that I’ve always had a massive boner for Bogart?”

Mr. Egbert froze up, his hand hovering over the bucket of popcorn in his lap. He wanted to smile, wanted to practically jump for joy but he knew better. Give some people an inch and they’ll take a mile. Bro was still in the doghouse as far as he was concerned. It was embarrassing to buy a ticket for just one, awkward to buy snacks for one.

“Don’t think I ever did. Guess now is as good a time as any,” Bro continued, reaching over to grab some popcorn from the bucket and Dad didn’t miss the way his hand lightly brushed against his own. “See, this movie is truly a masterpiece. The angles, the lighting, the setting. The script is pretty legit too. It really is a classic.”

He allowed himself a moment to glance over at the younger man. In the light, it was hard to make him out. He would have to wait until it was a lighter scene to get a good look, but he could tell even in the dimness, that the polo shirt was gone, as was the baseball cap. He could make out the outline of what he thought was a waistcoat, but he couldn’t be certain.

“I mean, it ain’t no Muppet’s Treasure Island, but it’s up there with the best.”

“I’m glad you came, albeit thirty minutes late,” he said quietly, despite the fact there was no one else nearby. The screen was practically empty, except for himself and an elderly couple who had informed him that they saw it together when they were 15 at the time of its release when he was buying his ticket.

He waited for a response, an apology perhaps but neither came and the silence between them lingered, peppered only with the sound of the film and Bro’s loud chewing.

Ten minutes passed before he leaned over and cleared his voice. “Usually, an apology would be in order here.”

Bro shrugged, taking another handful of popcorn. “I ain’t one for doing those. Can I offer you something else?” He turned to look at Dad, a small smirk on his face as he chewed on the popcorn. “A kiss? A hand job? Hell, a blow job ain’t off the table.”

Mr. Egbert couldn’t stop himself from smiling at Bro’s response, despite how badly he wanted to chastise the man for being a) so lewd and b) for being late. He was about to respond in his usual way, to tell the other that it was an inappropriate suggestion but then he realised that Bro had shown up to the cinema. Yes, he was late, but he had turned up. It was a start, and maybe it was time for him to loosen up slightly.

He cleared his throat again, keeping his eyes on the screen as he quietly whispered. “Perhaps later.”

He was certain that he heard the other man choke slightly on the popcorn in his mouth. That would teach him not to stuff his face.

After that, Bro did not speak. All he heard was the occasional munching of popcorn or the slurp of a drink. It was comfortable to watch the film with Bro in silence. He could recall many dates in the past in this very theatre, but none of them were ever like this. He had always felt strange, like he should fill the silence to make up for his ‘poor choice’ in films (always his date’s words, never his). Right now, though, he felt as though Bro was enjoying the experience just as much as he was.

It wasn’t until he felt a hand on his knee that he realised perhaps Bro was enjoying the film a little bit too much.

He didn’t want to encourage it, and despite the slight twitch in his trousers, he refused to play along. Reaching down, he placed his own hand over Strider’s, lacing their fingers together and promptly stopping the hand from travelling further north.

That seemed to stop Bro in his tracks, and as Mr. Egbert squeezed his hand, he felt the other squeeze back ever so slightly before their hands parted and went back to their respective snacks.


Having managed to successfully keep Bro’s hands out of his pants for the remainder of the film, they both slowly made their way out of the theatre. It was late. The other showings must have finished at a similar time as the lobby was full of people talking about various famous actors and actresses, special effects, and soundtracks.

Unfortunately, Mr. Egbert had very little to say about the film, having seen it numerous times, and he really had other things on his mind now that the distraction of the film had stopped. He hadn’t planned on Bro showing up; he had no idea as to what they were going to do now. He had intended on going straight home, but now that he actually had Bro with him, he was less inclined to do so.

He stopped just outside the cinema, turning to look at Bro, now able to take him in properly. He really had pushed the boat out, at least compared to how he normally dressed. Yes, the younger man was always clean, perhaps holding a higher standard of hygiene than himself, but he seemed to just be exceptionally so today. His hair was perfectly styled, having not been tarnished by his usual baseball cap.

He had to hand it to Bro, when he dressed up, he did it well. The black shirt and trouser combo was something he himself would wear, but the grey waistcoat was something he could never pull off. He glanced down, pleased to see that the usual footwear had been left at home, and instead were replaced with a pair of shiny shoes, which he doubted were worn on a regular basis.

A curious look crept onto his face as he saw grey fabric creeping out from under his trouser legs and over his shoes though.

“Spats, Mr. Strider? Really?”

Bro shrugged, letting out a breath that he seemed to have been holding, and Dad wondered if he had been holding his breath through his entire inspection. “What, ain’t you ever seen a pair of spats on an extremely good looking guy before?” He asked, adjusting his shades slightly.

Mr. Egbert shook his head, gesturing his hand to say that no, he had never seen a pair of spats on an extremely good looking man before. “An interesting choice, yet I would like to remind you that it is currently the twenty first century.”

“Says the man who asked me to see Casablanca with him for our first date.”

As Bro spoke, he took in a deep breath. He wanted to laugh it off like Bro was doing, but he had a certain sense of unease in the pit of his stomach. He had things he needed to get off his chest, topics he wanted to discuss with the other. “Look, we need to talk about things. Private things.”

“What, here? I ain’t sure I wanna talk about private shit in a public place,” Bro mumbled, reaching up to rub his neck nervously as he looked around, acting slightly paranoid despite the fact that people around them were neither looking at them, nor listening in on their conversation.

“Bro, I just have some things I need to discuss with you. I am not particularly bothered about where the conversation takes place, so long as it is not online because I feel these kinds of conversations are best done face to face. However, since this current situation seems to be displeasing you, might I suggest we go to somewhere more private then?”

“Yeah yeah, alright.” Bro paused and shuffled awkwardly. “So like, you uh... you wanna come back to my place since y’know, Dave is at your pad and I dunno, the kid won’t let it slide if he sees me there. He’ll make all these comments and be a little shit about it.”

Mr. Egbert rolled his eyes, shaking his head slowly as he slid his hands inside his pockets. “I think you underestimate your little brother,” he started, deciding to not go down that route after a moment. He really did not wish to have a discussion about Dave whilst stood in front of the cinema, and really, he did not care to have a conversation about Dave full stop. Since meeting and getting to know Bro, he had learnt that Dave really was a law unto himself. Yes, they held similar traits but the boy really was a unique child, and whilst Bro could be blamed for some of Dave’s actions, most of them were probably thought up by Dave.

He turned and started walking toward the car park with a small shrug. “But I digress; I think going back to your ‘pad’ would be a fantastic idea. I have yet to see where you live. I’m sure it will be delightful,” he said with a slight grimace. He was certain it would be anything but, however, it was rude to assume. For all he knew, Bro lived in a wonderful, clean, organised home.

Bro simply grunted in response as he fished out his own car keys. “You uh, you want to just come in my car and then like, I’ll drive you back here in the morning? ‘Cause it’s a real fucking ball ache to get visitor parking. There ain’t enough spaces and I mean, Mrs C don’t even drive, but if you park in her spot, she’ll come out and crowbar your ride.”

Dad smiled, despite the heavy feeling he had looming over him, and laughed under his breath. “You assume I’m going to stay the night?”

“Ah, you picked up on that?”

“My hearing hasn’t failed me just yet,” he quipped, deciding to follow Bro. He did not fancy having to deal with a crazed woman and her crowbar. Perhaps it was just a tall tale, but he had no desire to risk it. After all, his car was one of his many indulgences. It was hardly a top of the line sports car, but it was a little more than your usual point A to point B vehicle. “But I suppose in the event that I have no wish to share your bed, my body would hardly give out after one night on the sofa.”

Bro stopped in front of his truck, turning to face Dad with a look of amusement on his face. “Man, you’re lucky our situations ain’t reversed ‘cause like, down south I didn’t even have a bed. Had one of those pull-out futon things, y’know, real popular for single men with limited space. That thing woulda given an old man like you a shit ton of problems.” He ran his teeth over his lower lip, a mischievous look in his back as he walked backwards to the driver’s side of the car. “Don’t mean no offence by that or nothing. I mean, shit, that futon gave me enough issues as it was.”

Dad raised an eyebrow, naturally taking a small amount of offence at what was said to him.

“So like, I know you’re a man of morals and all that kinda shit but all I’m saying is, you wanna sleep with me in my car bed and it’s all cool with me. Ain’t saying I’ll spoon you or nothing, but I’d be happy to wake up to you.”

He pursed his lips, refraining from making a comment about Bro’s inability to stay long enough so he would be able to see him in the morning, and instead chose to remark on the fact Bro had said he slept in a car bed. Had he misheard that? Bro already thought he was turning senile, so it would do no harm to clarify.

“Car bed? You cannot be serious,” he muttered as he climbed into the truck, relieved to find that the car did not smell as bad as it looked.

“Dude, you don’t even understand. When you find out they make those car shaped beds in adult sizes, you just gotta have one, you dig?”

“No, I can’t say I do dig,” he muttered in response, turning to look out of the window. Part of him was certain that the older Strider was having him on. He could not be serious. No self-respecting man with a track record like Bro would dwell in a car shaped bed. Still...At the same time, he knew enough about Bro to know that the idea wasn’t completely ridiculous.