It was Tuesday. Tuesdays were usually terribly uneventful at the Strider house, just another day to look out at the hazy clouds, blotting out the sun in those leisure, idle moments of the day. Lately Dirk had been lazing around more than usual, slumping into piles of puppets languidly. Business was going well, smuppets still selling at a boringly average pace. Dave had been getting irritated with his brother, watching him shuffle along the apartment in his pajamas, complaining about almost anything he could. He knew it was because he hadn't seen Jake for over a week; but it was getting ridiculous. Of course, Dave didn't mind Dirk draping himself over his shoulders, tugging him out of his chair and back to hold him tightly on the couch. Even if he knew it was because he wanted physical contact, he didn't mind nuzzling under his chin and hugging him in return. Sometimes it was frustrating though, knowing that ever since Jake showed up that Dirk was beginning to get addicted to the intimate touches and contact. Prior to him, a fling once and a while wasn't uncommon, but afterward Dirk was sated, only touching Dave when necessary or after a night terror. Ever since Jake though, his brother had become so much more dependant on contact. Dave could almost conclude it a benefit, being touched and showered with affection by his brother, but it truly wasn't. mainly because, when Jake was around, the contact was limited with Dave again, so much more strict and sticky touches when they did happen. But when the emerald eyed man wasn't present, Dave was just a replacement.

But on that particular Tuesday, as the clouds began to knit together into a foreboding inky color, Dirk was far too preoccupied to think about smuppets, Dave or much anything else. Well, he was thinking a bit on how wonderful the sound his boyfriend just made was.

Jake was straddling Dirk, hands trailing up his chest and looping around his neck. The couch sank a bit with their weight as the TV droned on, forgotten behind them. Their lips clashed fervently, pushing and clawing at each other, trying desperately to get closer. Jake's hands left burns down his pale skin as he dragged his palms over the thin fabric of his shirt, finally pushing his fingers to tangle in his hair. The movement he made, that push and twist of his hips, grinding into Dirk's lower stomach, the blonde could only groan and nip at his lips. A low sound slipped through Jake's mouth as he pulled away slightly, letting their foreheads meet, "It's been way too long, Strider," he murmured, their lips brushing as he did. His breath was minty, no doubt from the gum he was chewing earlier, and his lips tasted of something crisp. Jake's hands were already moving back down his chest, sending shudders down Dirk's spine.

He groaned softly as a low growl rumbled back in his throat, "Whose fault is that now?" A coy smirk tugged at his features. His hands, so pale and cracked, his knuckles like dragon's scales, and fingers, slender and riddled with small cuts and scraps; wrapped around his hips and tugged him forward, being less than gentle. Jake let out a soft noise, always relishing when he was rough with him. "Never mind, just shut up, I missed you." Dirk licked his lips and moved in again to capture Jake's mouth.

The sound that escaped through the kiss was low and breathless as he nipped at his lips, Jake's hands traveling over him again. Being quiet was always a challenge for Jake, especially when Dirk seemed to have memorized every way to make him squirm. It would have been unfair had he not taken note of how to get similar reactions out of Dirk. With a quick swipe of his tongue over the back of the blonde's teeth he pulled back, a smirk playing on his lips as he nuzzled down to his shoulder, panting into his ear.
Dirk hissed out a gasp, a slight shudder working down him as Jake sucked his earlobe into his mouth, nibbling a bit at the pierced flesh. His hands tightened on his hips, his tongue darting out to lick at his suddenly dry lips. "Dammit, English," He growled out, pushing his hands up and under his shirt to trail up his spine.

A chuckle fell from his lips as he nuzzled against his ear, pulling his lips up against the shell of his ear again to murmur, "Problems?" Dirk only replied by dragging his nails down the smooth, sun kissed skin of his back, drawing a moan from Jake.

Dirk opened his mouth to rumble something snarky back in reply, but movement at the doorway caught his attention. The blonde had already rolled his eyes before looking over at Dave glaring from the threshold to his bedroom. "Seriously?" He deadpanned, his red gaze already settling on Dirk with a thick helping of frustration.

Jake's cheeks colored quickly as he scrambled off of him, scratching the back of his head bashfully. "Oh golly, sorry about that, mate." His accent was grating on Dave's ears, the other brother too busy staring the smaller down. Jake was never an intuitive one. Perhaps that was why he continued his babbling on, apologizes and excuses to Dave.

"What do you even want, lil man?" Dirk lounged back into the couch, cutting off Jake as he slung an arm over his shoulders.

Dave crossed his arms over his chest, he was wearing his favourite hoodie again, a deep crimson with a pixilated disc on the back. Around his neck the thin cord necklace was tight against his skin, a small metal heart charm dangling on a puny ring. "I need a ride to the parlor, Porrim wants to show me something." He pulled a hand through his hair and shoved it back in his pocket, shuffling a step back casually.

Dirk didn't miss the movement and nodded, letting out a sigh and pulling out his phone. "Yeah, my gig is in an hour too, they'll want my help setting up anyway." He pulled himself off of the couch and rolled his shoulders, hearing a few satisfactory pops. "Sorry, babe, maybe tomorrow?" His gaze moved back to Jake as the man stood, straightening his jacket and glancing towards the door.

"Actually I wanted to talk about tomorrow. My old family friend's lad is staying with me for a while, he's around Dave's age and he isn't real familiar with all this city business. So naturally I thought perhaps you two you fancy some tea tomorrow evening, you know you and he could get to know each other?" His eyes were bright as he looked up at Dirk, before turning and smiling brilliantly at freckled blonde in the doorway, "Yeah?"

A silence crawled in as Dave reeled, not wanting anything to do with Jake in the first place. Going over to the man's apartment might as well have been synonymous with torture, but being expected to suddenly be buddy-buddy with some kid? Hell no. It had always been a pet peeve of his, when one of his friends at the tattoo parlor tried to introduce him to people; advertising them as the same age as him. The age wasn't a lie, but that didn't change a thing, the only thing they had in common was the number of years they'd been living. Not how they'd lived them, how they planned to live them, how they thought about the world they'd be inhabiting for the past 17 years. Every time one of them would start with a lazy roll of the tongue, that first line of 'so I know this guy...' that frustration would kick start in his veins. Perhaps Dave would have handled it better had it not come topped off with an accent and winning smile. There was a chance he wouldn't have started immediately rolling through excuses of why not to go as soon as he had processed what was going on.

Dirk smiled a bit at him, before turning his gaze to his brother. There was something in his eyes, tucked away behind those shades; something smug. It put the blonde on edge as he set his jaw, already formulating a lie to weasel himself out of the play date.

"That sounds like a plan then." Dirk said, his words weren't tinged with anything that Jake would notice, nothing that he'd ever question. But Dave could hear it, like a bird shrieking into his ear, that malice laced into his words. Even if he did make an excuse, valid or otherwise, there would be no weaseling out of it. Dave wasn't sure what he did to piss Dirk off, but whatever he did, this was his punishment. Perhaps it was dropping in during their make out session, even if it wasn't his fault that there were demons in the area. No, perhaps he just wanted to bother Dave any way he could; he wouldn't doubt it in the slightest. No matter the motive though, he knew he was doomed to go.

Despite the universal law of Tuesdays being boring, Dave supposed there was nothing said about Wednesdays. Even as he let his mind be overridden, filled to the brim with his brother and spilling over into his limbs; like a pawn in a brutal game as they fought a couple of reckless demons. Dave didn't let it go, didn't loosen his grip on the dread within his stomach, even though he was only vaguely conscious, his sight a diaphanous ashen gray, like an old movie flickering through his mind, his body not feeling as though it were even moving. Even if Dirk could force him into going to the ridiculous play date, he wouldn't go with a smile. Not that he would ever make the forbearance evident in his expression or leaking out into the way he strode. Oh no, he'd handle it with grace; just layered behind a few stony masks of false emotion and perhaps a rusty glare here and there behind his shades.

Tuesday was as boring as ever, with the demons soon tied tightly and flopped over unconscious in the corner of an abandoned building somewhere in the city. But somewhere in the back of Dave's mind, as his thoughts became slurred as he lost his grip on the world and felt himself tumbling into unconsciousness as Dirk's control receded, he could only wonder if Wednesday would be more interesting.

Wednesday was taking its time to arrive though, and Tuesday was still lingering in the air at Jake's apartment. John had lost track of time as the days slipped past, and soon he found himself in his caretaker's abode. It was all so terrifying, the new sounds, scents and sights. Looking outside, through a clear, finely cleaned glass pane; out to a city that rolled over the hills and dominated the land. The colors and lights that pierced the night sky, the spires of buildings that prodded at the heavens belly; it left him breathless in awe. It was so different from the mansion, so overwhelming and exhilarating. John could open up the window and take a deep breath; the air was crisp and smelled of spring's gentle breath. The rumble of cars and people's voices littered the space, a never ceasing hum of life. Sometimes John frowned at it, and wished for the quiet of the mansion, but shook his head at it when he caught a whiff of Jake's scent on the furniture.
Jake never really smelled particularly good, for hunting anyway, but he did smell very nice as far as a human goes. The musky scent always soothed John with the familiarity, filling him with a sense of safety and security. When he received the sweatshirt for his Birthday roughly three years prior from him, he had refused to wear any other jackets. The slightest whiff of his scent when he left was enough, that ethereal gasp of his scent like petrichor and trees. The smell had long since been replaced by his own, but he still wore the threadbare gray sweatshirt, the spades symbol in the center fraying somewhat. Once the fabric was soft and comfortable, warm against his flesh, but by then it was worn thin, a bit scratchy and covered in a coat of lint balls along the sleeves and sides.

The clock read somewhere around nine at night, the sun was beginning to lazily slide below the horizon, already blotted out by a few of the buildings. Pushed aside by their shadows the light fell across the city in large streaks, the amber light pressed over all the cars and people. Jake had left a few hours ago to do something or another, leaving the boy in the apartment alone. John was alright with it, after all, his caretaker had been kind enough to give him a room in his apartment, and even so courteous as to take a few days off of work to make sure he was settled in.

The apartment wasn't how John had imagined it, not a cozy cave filled with movies and guns. Instead, it was a fairly large apartment with a comfortable leather couch and large TV in the center of the main room. The guest room had been converted into John's room, a simple room with a dusty desktop computer within. Jake had told him he was free to use the computer, he had long since purchased a laptop for himself and no longer had a use for the desktop. The poor thing could barely run, making a loud buzzing noise whenever the monitor was turned on and whirring that likely sounded like death to any other machine would begin to shriek out from the tower whenever it was booted up. But John didn't mind, he rather liked the dusty old desktop, no matter how slow it was it was fascinating. It had a few games on it and an old chat client called Pesterchum, Jake told him he was free to start a new account with it and use it if he made some friends. John only shrugged; it looked kind of lame, besides he didn't have any friends.

He had been debating on logging onto the computer and playing around some, or watching a movie till Jake returned home. The apartment was silent, the sound of cars rumbling by as John moved to investigate the DVD collection. Just as he had crouched down though, a sudden wave of fatigue swept over him. It drained his energy and left him laden with lethargy, like weights clinging to his limbs and tugging them down with his consciousness. John blinked thickly and fought off the darkness clawing at his vision and struggled to his feet. For a moment he felt everything suddenly come into focus, the world painfully detailed and vivid, all colors and sounds and scents and all of it buzzing and moving constantly, infuriatingly relentless. His head throbbed and his feet caught on each other, sending him sprawling over the ground.

The impact was numb, hardly even there when he hit the ground, the pain a dull throb resounding through his limbs. A small groan left his lips as he cracked an eye open, the world fuzzy this time, everything a hazy blur smeared over his eyes. John pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, his arms shaking, trembling and weak as he desperately tried to peel himself off the floor. It felt as though gravity were suddenly intensified, pounding onto his back and beating him back down to the hard wood. A hand was in his hair, holding his head up, but he hardly felt it, let alone realized it was his.

Once he had fully acknowledged his appendage as his he began to notice how warm his forehead felt. Actually, now he that he began to think about it, his whole body was hot. Not just hot, no that wasn't even close. John let out a strangled noise of pain as the fire ripped through his body, like poison in his veins, it clawed and tore just under his skin. Something between his ribcage was gurgling, snarling at him loudly.
John blinked heavily again and tried to get to his feet again, clawing at the couch to help himself to his feet. Standing felt precarious, he felt far too tall, practically towering over everything in the apartment as he took a dizzy step forward. The hand at his head hadn't moved, still trying to hold the world still. Before he could take another step though, his stomach was lurching and pain was searing in his abdomen.

With another fold of his stomach John was stumbling towards the bathroom. His steps were clumsy, his head still swimming around as the world danced around him, tugging on his vision and dragging his thoughts into meaningless slurs within his head. Everything burned, each step like walking over an inferno, yet the flooring was far too cold against his searing flesh.

By the time he was leaning over the counter of the bathroom, John's eyes were closed and for a moment he was panicking. His bearings felt all wrong, the scents were too foreign, the tiles weren't right, but the overriding smell of Jake seemed to soothe him back to his senses. But only for a lingering moment did the scent calm him as he stared down at the grey flecked countertop he was gripping so tightly. The light was dim in the bathroom, a small florescent light that flickered a bit; yet still far too bright for John. As the light flickered he flinched, pressing his eyes shut and immediately regretting the sudden movement.

For a few beats he kept his eyes shut, letting his body sway with the erratic twirl of the world. By the time he was cracking his eyes open, everything was doubling before correcting itself with another blink. His gaze trailed up from the sink to the mirror, the carefully cleaned glass displaying the picture of a pasty white boy, his cheeks lit up a bright, rosy red. His hair was plastered over his forehead, sweat beading over his face and dripping down his neck, disappearing beneath the folds of his sweatshirt hood. His lips were dry, chapped and parted through his pants, two protruding teeth tapered to a point peeking just into view. For a moment John struggled to believe it was actually him.

He wasn't sure if he'd ever seen his eyes such a dark, bloody crimson.

Before he could even try to make heads or tails of the situation, his stomach lurched, bending him over the sink and forcing up everything. It burned in his throat as he felt it swirl back in his mouth, vile and bitter. John didn't bother fighting it, letting his stomach heave up all its contents and splatter into the sink, dying it a diluted scarlet. Everything burned and smelled like blood and blackness was dotting his vision again as he wiped the corner of his mouth with the heel of his hand.

By the time his stomach had pushed out all it had within it, John was feeling dizzier than ever. His body felt far too heavy, his limbs much too weak to support himself. Yet even through the dazzling spin of the apartment around him, he managed to shuffle out to the living room, finding the couch as the smooth leather bumped against his thigh. Without a second thought John had clawed himself onto the furniture, curling into the cushion and crossing his arms to settle into a ball.

His head was still throbbing and everything smelled like blood. On a normal occasion he might have been alright with that, as it tended to smell much sweeter to him than the average human. However, for once it smelled revolting, musty and putrid. He buried his nose into his sweatshirt in a vain attempt to block out the scent, attempt to get a whiff of Jake.

Nothing was working though, it all smelled like bloody murder and rotting meat. His head was still swimming and his consciousness was wavering. John swallowed, his throat suddenly filled with cotton and his tongue thick in his mouth. Somewhere in his abdomen his stomach was growling, demanding food that John knew for a fact he didn't want or have. The vile taste in his mouth stung a bit, his throat still burning and his body still feeling on fire. John couldn't push away the tears that slipped from his eyes quietly, dribbling down his cheeks and mingling with the fabric of his sweatshirt.

Everything was hurting and he didn't have a clue what to do.

Another twist of his stomach made him hug himself tighter, making a small panicked sound now, tinged with the pathetic whimper of pain. John pressed his forehead to his knees, curling up tighter and letting out a few more choked sobs.

He wished Jake would come home.

Hopefully this didn't take too long, and sorry this is kinda short too. I apologize if there's any errors as always. uvu Anyway, JohnDave is coming, I swear, for now take the DirkJake and embrace it.
I really like feedback guys, like really QuQ If you really wanna make my day you should totally message me on Tumblr, I'm shed-the-skins. I always post updates there first, and if you don't want me to be clogging up your dash you can go ahead and track the tag 'huntersau'

Phew, as always, thanks for reading!