The floor creaked beneath John's foot, and instantly the boy froze in the darkness. Inwardly, he cursed himself yet again. Sneaking was really not his forte, and this nighttime snooping was putting his poor excuse for tiptoeing to the test. Come on, just a few steps further... Shit! He had to slap a hand over his mouth as he gave the door a very rough kick thanks to his near-blindness, creating a resounding thump. Man, Egbert was really lucky Dave was such a heavy sleeper. Anyone else would have woken up long ago.

And he was pretty sure nobody would like to find their best friend attempting to sneak into the room of their older brother.

John's hand grasped the metal of the doorknob, and idly he wondered when exactly his palms got so sweaty. It's incredible how fast your body can change when you take a midnight walk. The boy swallowed hard, willing his rapidly beating hard to calm right the fuck down as he carefully turned the knob. Why was he freaking out so much, anyways? This wasn't the first time John had made this trip, even if his clumsiness said otherwise.

Silently, save the creak of a rusted hinge, the raven managed to open the door with no difficulty. It was all so familiar now, he stepped in and almost instantly could feel the tension leave his shoulders as the blue eyes fell upon a seated figure, silhouetted by the bright computer screen in front of it that made John squint from the sudden contrast. Making sure to close the door behind him, he only took a few more steps forward before halting. He was wringing his wrists, a faint blush on his face, probably looking like the most cliche schoolboy or whatever. That's what older guys liked, right? Well, that's what Mr. Strider-or "Bro" as Dave insisted-seemed to like, at least.

Speaking of the man... John cleared his throat a bit, although he was sure Bro knew that the boy was in here. Probably just making him wait, as always.

Sure enough, the sound did nothing to help him become noticed. The shadowed man quietly continued whatever the hell it was he did on that computer. One time Dave had told John what it was his older brother did, what was it? Right, some ridiculous puppet company or whatever. It made the younger Strider shiver, so John had assumed it was either not good or... well, what else? It was only a side-thing for Bro anyways, who kept the Striders well off the poor end of the financial spectrum with his constant rap gigs. John was glad that there had only been one interruption of their nights due to the job. Wait, what was that?

There was a quiet click, and John fully focused on the figure again. Oh. Bro had set his triangular sunglasses aside, that only meant... yep. The chair swiveled as the person on it pushed one foot gently off the ground, facing John fully.

Bro was dressed in what was his usual attire, a white shirt with a popped collar that contrasted his nearly pitch black pants. Even his fingerless gloves were black, and the only color breaking out of the monochromatics of the gray was a stripe of orange, the belt around his waist. John knew he had a hat the same color, but it was nowhere to be seen. Actually, nothing was on the older blond's face, which left his unique eyes on display. The boy blinked. The first few times he had seen those bright orange eyes-easily discernible even with the dim lighting-he had frozen up like a deer in the headlights. Now though, he smiled. There was something in those brilliant ambers that kindled some kind of warmth inside him. Well, he knew what that warmth was, but was unwilling to say it aloud even in his mind.

Of course, he would eagerly say it if Bro told him to.

A quiet cough interrupted his thoughts, and John once again had to reign in his thoughts. He blushed darkly, Bro's body-reading skills amazing him as always. He seemed to always catch John getting distracted and managed to pull the boy back on track. "Sorry," He mumbled quietly as he looked down at the Strider's feet. Hm, he wasn't wearing shoes or socks. Dammit, focus, Egbert! "Are you busy tonight?"

"Nah."

"...Can we, um... You know..."

"Spit it out, kid."

The single command, spoken in that velvety baritone, was enough to make John's blood run fiery hot. He blurted out the words immediately.

"Can we fuck?"