A/N: So, I took a break from my usual DaveKat to write a self-indulgence fic. I didn't write this to be criticized for what I like, so if you only came here to bitch about BroDave and everything wrong with it (believe me, I know) then you can just leave now. Trust me, I've heard everything. This probably won't even be good anyway. Go find a better fic if you wanna complain.
He read somewhere that watching your kid sleep is a perfectly normal thing for parents to do.
They like to watch their breathing - make sure that it's steady. Make sure that their kid isn't have a bad dream. Some parents like to watch and simply remember the good times - back when they were the center of each other's world. Before they started growing up.
Yes, Bro could be watching Dave sleep for any of those touching and socially acceptable reasons. But he isn't.
Instead, he's focusing on Dave's lips. The slight part of them as he breathes. He wonders what they would feel like against his - would they be soft, or chapped, like Bro's? He studies the flush to Dave's normally pale skin. Because it's always too hot in Texas, but he still insists upon sleeping with the blankets pulled all the way up to his chin.
He used to stand and watch from the doorway, back when his intentions were innocent, but now Bro stands next to Dave's bedside. He's lucky his charge is a heavy sleeper, otherwise he would never get away with this. He reaches out, tracing a finger down Dave's jaw so lightly that he isn't even sure himself if he's making contact. His blonde hair is a mess, as it always is when Dave sleeps, and Bro brushes it out of his kid's face, running his fingers through the soft strands gently. He has to ask Dave for his hair care regimen some day. It's as soft as silk and slips through his fingers like sand.
When Dave rolls over and sighs softly in his sleep, Bro takes it as his cue to leave. It means that the pleasant feelings are breaching Dave's sleep-laden mind and making their way into his dreams. At the very least, Dave almost never complains about nightmares anymore. Not that it makes Bro feel any less disgusting. Every night is a hollow and greedy victory.
He absconds back to his room before Dave can wake, sliding under his covers and doing his best to sleep. He isn't thinking about Dave. He isn't thinking about his little brother's lips wrapped around him. And he certainly isn't thinking about the teasing smirk Dave would give him, practically taunting Bro as he kisses up his length before finally taking it into his mouth, going slowly and daring Bro to lose his cool. His eyes sly and smug while he takes Bro at an achingly slow pace. It takes all if his willpower to not grab Dave's hair and just ram in completely.
Bro gives up, kicking the sheets off of him and pushing his boxers out of the way. He strokes himself slowly, like Dave would do, imagining that it's his brother pleasing him instead of himself. It's sick and wrong, and the fact that he only lasts a few minutes with that fantasy makes a small curl of self-hatred pool in the pit of his stomach. Dave probably wouldn't swallow - at least not the first time. He's such a smug and prideful little shit. It would probably take some… encouragement. But imagining all the ways he could "encourage" his charge to deepthroat him isn't doing anyone any favors. So Bro grabs some tissues, cleans up the mess, then turns over and tries to convince himself that the feelings will go away.
They won't of course, but it's okay to lie to yourself every now and again.
The feelings have been growing and festering inside of him since Dave turned fourteen. It was around the kid's birthday that Bro began to notice all the ways his charge was… changing. He shot up like a weed almost overnight. His baby fat melted away thanks to their constant strifes, and the sharp, well-defined angles of his body became hard to ignore. His broad shoulders, and the muscles he was finally beginning to develop. Bro had never had a thing for blondes before, but he found himself wondering if Dave's hair was as soft as it looked. If he would look any better without his shades on. Or his clothes.
He had done his research - and what he was feeling wasn't pedophilia. That implies a small, underdeveloped child, which just make Bro's skin crawl with unease. But though Dave is far from being a child anymore, it doesn't mean that being attracted towards the kid you raised isn't wrong. They weren't related (the kid had just been dumped on his doorstep when Bro was seventeen), but as Dave's legal guardian, that would still put him under arrest for incest and rape if he took this where it shouldn't be and people found out. The age of consent in Texas is seventeen, because yeah, he cared enough to do his homework. Dave has only recently turned sixteen though, and Bro is pretty certain that he's straight. He never mentioned any guys, but they didn't really talk enough for him to mention girls, either, so it didn't hurt to lean on the side of caution. Bro isn't even sure if Dave likes him anymore.
Actually, fuck everything. Bro doesn't need to be looking these things up at all because nothing is going to happen. He's just noticing Dave's changes and progression towards becoming a young man. Nothing more will come of it.
People just don't do that.
"Dave." Bro pushes his bedroom door open without knocking, leaning against frame. He taught Dave not to knock before entering a room. Knocking isn't cool. "Roof in five." He says, his sword sheathed and resting on one shoulder.
They haven't been up there in a while, but Dave doesn't hesitate before nodding. He looks to be talking to one of his online friends - the one with the grey text - and he's sitting at his computer in just a pair of jeans.
Not that Bro notices that. Of course Dave can be shirtless in his room. It's his room. And Bro definitely isn't checking him out and noting in approval all the ways Dave has filled out over the years. The way his jeans rest just low enough on his hips to give Bro a good look at untanned skin is completely unnoticeable. The curve of his ass as he sits, and the way said ass would feel sitting on something else-
He shuts the door too loudly behind him as he leaves, his heart racing and the grip on his sword just a little too tight. Damn. Fuck Dave for being so appealing. Kids his age aren't supposed to look like that. They're supposed to be gangly and awkward. Not pornstar material.
He shouldn't be strifing with Dave. They only stopped in the first place because the close proximity and the way Dave looked when he was sweating and out of breath was getting hard to handle. The only reason they're strifing now is because Bro has some frustrations he needs to air. And Dave can always use the practice.
Dave arrives on the roof exactly five minutes after Bro. He isn't entirely sure how Dave always gets his timing right down to the second, but he probably does it to annoy his brother. Like most other things.
There's no little head nod to signal that they're starting. No handshake or stupid bow. Dave comes up with his shitty sword already unsheathed and held properly, and he drops into a fighting stance.
Bro takes off, flash stepping around his brother almost too fast for him to keep track of. Almost. Dave has gotten better at it since they first began training. Still, all he can do is turn around before Bro is swooping in. He aims just for little nicks and cuts, catching Dave's cheek, his shirt, the hem of his completely impractical jeans. Dave brings his own sword up, deflecting Bro and getting a bit of his hair cut off instead of taking it to his forearm.
The swords make the horrible grating sound of metal on metal as they connect, and Dave visibly winces. That was a mistake, as Bro quickly takes the opportunity to flip his sword around and nail Dave squarely in the chest. He stumbles back, a little dazed, but no less prepared to fight. Bro thinks that his determination is cute, and he finds his inexperience even cuter. But Dave does try, and that's worth something.
Bro flash steps away, and they begin again.
An hour later, and Bro is beginning to think that Dave is about to pass out. He wavers on his feet, his stance too open and the grip on his sword less than mediocre. But maybe that was Bro's fault for pushing him so hard.
He puts a hand on Dave's chest, grabbing his shirt tightly and sweeping his feet out from under him, sending him to the ground. He groans weakly as his body hits the floor, and Bro does his best to think PG thoughts as he straddles his brother and keeps him pinned down.
"You're getting sloppy, Dave." He says roughly, face perfectly blank as always as he stares down at the boy beneath him. "Only got a few hits in. Maybe we should be doing this more often." A little bit of blood sprinkles Bro's white shirt, almost as a permanent reminder of what happened. It was a lucky hit - Dave managed to catch Bro on the neck and broke the skin. Nothing deep luckily, but he can still do better.
Dave pants heavily, glaring up at Bro as best he can. "Or maybe you should just find a hobby healthier than beating the shit out of children." He fires back, reaching up to wipe away the blood dripping from his nose with his sleeve. That injury was the result of a wayward punch, but nothing broke, so the two of them had continued on with the strife.
Bro snorts, leaning in a little closer. "I'll stop when you grow a pair and start trying. Really, Dave. Am I that hard to beat?"
He falls silent, simply staring at Bro as he breathes. Suddenly, the older male is incredibly aware of their position. Dave, beneath him, sweating and gasping and completely unable to fight back against anything Bro might want to do. It was… quite the opportunity.
Dave blinks in surprise, his eyes widening behind his shades. "Bro, what are you doing?"
His hands were now resting on Dave's waist, pushing his shirt up just a little and rubbing small circles in his skin. He's being careful, seeing how far he can go before Dave interjects. "Nothing." Bro says dismissively, pushing his hands up further and tracing along his ribcage. "What? A guy can't feel up his little brother and make sure that he's developing properly?"
Dave squirms underneath him, his face flushing as he looks up at Bro in confusion and frustration. "Bro, that's not-" He begins to protest, only to be cut off as he moans quietly.
Bro smirks, tugging on his nipples again, a little harder, earning himself a small whimper from the boy beneath him.
"That's not what? Speak up, Dave." Bro teases, his confidence in these actions growing. He's so close to Dave now - close enough to see the light freckles dotting his skin. He would be more tan if he wasn't albino, but the freckles are still a nice touch. Maybe Bro should have Dave come outside more. Or maybe he should just keep touching his brother. For the moment, Dave isn't protesting or seriously fighting him, and that's important. Consent is important, especially in such a delicate situation.
Dave swallows hard, reaching up and digging his fingers into Bro's shirt. "Bro-" He groans quietly, embarrassment and unhappy pleasure flashing across his face. "No, stop- this is-"
Wrong.
Bro doesn't want to hear Dave say it. He's perfectly aware of what he's doing. He moves one hand up to cup the back of Dave's head, the other going down to hold his waist gently. Their lips brush against each other, and any argument Dave is about to make dies on his lips. He isn't struggling any more at least, and Bro takes that as the go ahead to continue.
As he had guessed before, Dave's lips are very soft. They're motionless against his, but that's to be expected. His fingers tangle in the younger's hair, and Bro uses his hold to pull Dave up closer. A small gasp leaves his mouth as the kiss is deepened, Bro easing his tongue past Dave's lips and groaning quietly at the feeling. Everything feels like it's burning, but he isn't satisfied with this at all. Kissing Dave is everything he had never wanted to dream it was, and all it does is stoke his passion higher.
Dave whimpers quietly, pushing against his brother's chest weakly to get him off. Bro opens his eyes behind his shades, watching Dave's expressions filter and change through the ordeal. And Dave doesn't look upset. Rather, he looks confused and guilty and ashamed of himself.
The kiss ends abruptly, and the warmth is immediately gone as Bro climbs to his feet. All he feels now is cold.
"Ugh, Bro-" Dave tries as he pushes himself up into a sitting position. His sentence abruptly halts as he looks around, only to find that Bro is gone and that he's alone. He sighs, falling back against the roof, and does his best to ignore the uncomfortable tightness in his pants.
"Fuck."