Title: Fernweh
For: HS World Cup Bonus Round 2
Prompt: Dave/Dirk / Fernweh - German - To feel homesick for a place you have never been.
Character/Pairing: Dave, Dirk
A/N: Because these Bros are awkwardness personified
Summary: Dave is not his bro. Dirk knows that, but sometime's it is just too easy to let the images overlap.
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Dave doesn't look at him as they fly through space back to the others. He muttered something about dead brothers and swords when they met before lapsing into an awkward silence.
Which is fine with Dirk. He isn't in the mood to talk anyways. It's strange to meet your long-dead brother. Sort of brother.
That said, he half wants Dave to turn his head toward him. Just enough so that he can look at his face and make out the details. Aside from their fondness of shades and swords, he can't tell what they share. The bridge of their nose, the shape of their face—the markers of their appearance in their DNA gone wrong.
With that red suit and scowl, Dave looks nothing like the brother he knows. The cool, confident brother, always winning some award or the other. A big star. This Dave is all frowns and sharp edges, like he's carrying something he doesn't know how to handle.
Or maybe he's just like that with him. From the others, he didn't sound nearly as bad. Either way, he is certainly not capable of creating a block-buster series and fighting a clown rebellion.
"You like smuppets?" Dave breaks the silence and it shouldn't surprise him that he knows this.
It does anyways. "Yeah."
"Your fridge is full of shitty weapons," he states, so matter-of-factly that Dirk almost replies yes.
"No." While he doesn't quite get that last comment, he seizes the opportunity. "You still make Hella Jeff?"
Dave snorts, as though remembering something stupid. To be honest, that entire series is stupid. "Sometimes."
This Dave is not his brother. He tries to remember that. Tries and fails, the negatives overlapping to make one image.
And all he can see is his bro and all he can remember is that a long time ago, bro died.
Dave finally looks at him, awkwardly. There's something uncomfortable in his expression, something lost. Maybe Dave feels just as haunted as Dirk does when he looks at him.
Maybe Dave's Dirk died too.
"You…" Dave's words come out quiet, almost tired, like his last hope was snuffed out. "You are not exactly like my brother."
Dirk can understand the feeling. "Neither are you."
"Do you…do you still have Cal?" Dave grimaces as he says this.
"He was stolen."
"Who'd want that?" Dave sounds relieved there.
"I do."
Dave makes a gagging sound. "That shitty doll?"
"From the guy with shitty swords."
They look at each other and snicker.
He never quite realized how much he wanted this, this chance to talk to his bro, until now. Maybe Dave isn't his bro, but it feels right.
They feel right.
For the first time, he understands family.