A/N: Baby's First Homestuck Fanfic.

Yeah, I've never written one before this, and this one is totally self-indulgent.

All things considered, things are actually going relatively well with Dirk.

At least, they were going well right up until the point where Dave has a panic attack.

Anxiety attacks aren't exactly the same every time.

Like, sure, they're pretty easily identifiable. Dave can tell when he's panicking because, hello, it's his own fucking body. Whenever he's having trouble getting each breath out and whenever it's as though his body is about to collapse into a pile of disconnected joints and flesh yet feels impossibly tense at the same time, he can sort of determine what's happening to him. That, and he's dealt with this shit for years. Panic attacks aren't new for him. But they've changed, he thinks, even just a bit.

He's learned over time how to translate his instinctive response to danger into immediate action. Lashing out is customary. If he panics, he's knows it's time to act, and by act he means put up his fucking dukes. It's a fight or flight thing. If he froze up or let his fear overwhelm his reaction times while living with his brother, his life was at risk. At least, even more than usual.

Living with Karkat has made things better.

At least, y'know, a little.

It's taken a while, but he's started to hold himself back, for the most part. Panicking and lashing out at the nearest moving target doesn't really work when you don't actually want to hurt said target. There are times that he can stand completely still and just ride out his little episodes without causing any collateral damage, and honestly, that's more progress than he was ever expecting to make. Not that Dave's personally done all that much to push this "recovery" along, if he can even call it that.

The new world they all live on looks disgustingly similar to their old one. He figures he should've expected that, since they created it with that being their only real frame of reference, but that doesn't stop him from being irrationally annoyed by it. And every morning, he wants to off himself ten times just from the fact that oh, right, his new apartment looks nearly identical to his old one.

What a stupid idea.

It was out of familiarity, at the time. It felt right. It felt safe for all of about five seconds before he remembered that he never once felt safe in his own home. That was possibly one of the dumbest decisions he's made in his fucking life. And, to put that into perspective, the extent of his dumb decisions has caused an endless amount of Daves from different timelines to lose their lives. So, yeah. Pretty fucking dumb.

They have two homes, anyway, and tend to alternate between them. There's his own apartment, as well as the replica of Karkat's old hive. Dave sort of wishes they could stay in the latter way more often than they actually do. It's comfortable. It makes him feel like they're closer, somehow, even though that's cheesy and stupid. Whenever they're back in the copy of his own home, well...

It's so bad that he's never even told Karkat, AKA the one person he trusts with virtually everything, because it'd just be that humiliating to admit that he's literally subjecting himself to shit that makes him feel unimaginably awful.

He'll keep pretending that every time he shoots from bed in immediate defensive mode, it's not a reflex from his surroundings, but instead from his (ugh) nightmares. That's marginally less embarrassing to admit to Karkat whenever they're having an apparently pale conversation. Those tend to happen a lot more frequently, since they're both getting to be dangerously vulnerable around each other. And it's not as if it's completely untrue, anyway. It's a half-lie that he'll just deal with.

Dave figures that he technically shouldn't even have anything to worry about. They're basically the Gods of the new world, and literally their rulers. Being First Dude of Troll Kingdom (which, by the way, is something that makes Karkat so unnecessarily annoyed that Dave can't help using it all the time) is actually pretty sweet. The only thing that crosses his mind more often than it should is how he never brought his Bro back.

In fact, none of them brought their dead guardians back to life.

The only one of them who's actually still got a guardian is John. And he's not really sure how much power they hold over the world after the creation part is all said and done. The world's still in its beginning stages of being built and, all things considered, it's not really known if they still have the ability to resurrect their families. If they can, he imagines they will at some point.

He can sort of understand everyone else's hesitance to bringing them back to life, even the ones who had decidedly good guardians. Starting a new life generally means leaving your old ones behind, and having both their guardians and younger, alternate versions of their guardians in the same place is more than a little awkward. He doesn't actually know if those are justifiable reasons or not, but he can't really care that much, either. And, yeah, he can even see himself wanting to eventually bring Bro back, if only to finally have some fucking closure.

If that never happens, though, he can probably get over it.

Just like how he's been able to "get over" everything else.

Things are cool on the outside. Things are always cool on the outside. They all do the same shit as before, like send unnecessary amounts of pictures and updates despite being able to walk to each other's houses. Dave makes music, draws intentionally awful comics, works on his new rock and mineral collection whenever he has the time, practices photography at every opportunity - then, of course, there are the responsibilities of running a damn planet that every one of them are consistently preoccupied with.

But, really, it's all normal.

It's all completely normal because everyone's just so fucking good at pretending it's all normal.

Nothing's okay, but maybe that's normal, too. Maybe they've always just been acting like everything's okay when it never has been. That's at least true for Dave. And maybe John's always been so blatantly depressed and secretive. Hell, he seems even more detached from his emotions than Dave, but he hides it behind a cheerful and friendly front rather than a cool and collected one, so no one's ever noticed. Not even Dave's ever noticed until now. It's so painfully obvious now, though, and he can't imagine how he didn't see it before.

Some best friend he's turned out to be, if they can even call themselves best friends anymore.

Having genuine conversations is just as difficult as before, so of course, there's been no progress. He spends more time wanting to be there for John than actually being there for him. At least that weird spade thing the guy's got going with Terezi seems to make him genuinely happy.

Maybe Rose has always had so many problems despite being so willing to understand the problems of others. Well, actually, he knew that about her from the very beginning. No therapy for the therapist, is what she'd said once, and he quite frankly considered that sentiment to be utter bullshit. On the bright side, Kanaya makes a damn good partner, and things are...better. Even if it's just by a bit.

He doesn't even want to think about Jade.

Their weird almost-romance aside, she's had baggage he's sure he hasn't even begun to learn about, let alone understand on more than a superficial level. She always liked pretending that she bought into his persona and they somehow still managed to be genuine with each other even through that. Her friendship still matters to him, but he often wonders if they'll ever be as close as they were before.

And, uh, the other humans?

Well, Roxy's the best not-mom he's ever had. Not that he ever really had a mom to compare her to. He hasn't really talked to Jane and Jake enough to get a good tell of who they are as people, but they seem nice enough.

Dirk is cool.

Even if he does remind Dave of Bro more often than not.

He's also sort of the entire reason Dave's currently lying on the couch with his head in Karkat's lap as a shitty romcom plays in the background.

Dave hasn't opened up to Karkat about everything his Bro did, but he's at least brought himself to say a few things. There's a lot of shit to go through, and he never really had any intention to put that info on Karkat's shoulders, no matter how close they've gotten over time. Like, he came pretty fucking close more than once on the meteor, but that was probably because of his isolation from most other people.

Now that they're living together and now that he's expressed all that shit to his not-brother, though, it's become considerably less difficult to bring up.

And it always comes back to the advice of communicating it to Dirk.

"I'm not going to make him feel guilty for something he had no control over," Dave starts in a steady voice. "Or blame him for shit that's just objectively not even his fault, even if he feels like it is in some vague way."

A hand runs through Dave's hair and Karkat stares down at him. "That doesn't change the undeniable fact that you should still talk to Dirk about this," he says defiantly.

It's embarrassing how easily Dave melts into it all, the combination of whatever messed up petting Karkat's doing to him right now and the tender look and voice that's almost exclusively reserved for Dave, it makes him want to sink into the ground and never come back up. But in a good and warm way. But also in a seriously incriminating way. He's glad that the former's gradually started to outweigh the latter.

"Yeah, no," he responds definitively. "I kind of already have. I unloaded a bunch of emotional garbage onto him all at once before we fought off Jack. Wouldn't wanna overdo it. And anyway, you're probably not even supposed to get about a billion different conflicting feelings for someone you've technically just met. We talk to each other now, but..."

Karkat furrows his eyebrows. "What?"

Before he can formulate the words, Dave averts his eyes to the TV, though he still can't quite pay attention to whatever the hell is going on in the movie. "Around him, I feel like I always want to talk more about feelings shit, but that's kinda weird. I don't want him to become my outlet for taking out all my thirteen years of unacknowledged pent up rage toward my Bro. But I can't help being so emotionally open with him, and I don't know why."

"Maybe it's because you're so transparently pale for him!"

Dave frowns and puts a hand up to Karkat's cheek. "Dude, wow, no. I know that pale shit is all platonic, but I still don't wanna think of anything that can be considered romance-related applied to someone who's basically my brother. It's weird, in my opinion. No offense," he sighs and pulls his hand back down to lay over his stomach. Not like Rose needed any more shitty Freudian ammo to aim at him. "And anyway, you think I'm not downright mortified whenever I give the guy a hug? I was never exactly all touchy-feely of a guy up 'til you and I became a thing."

At that, Karkat rolls his eyes and groans. "Well, my bad."

"It's not a bad thing, man," Dave reassures him, giving a small smile. "You're like a gateway drug for affection. You've made me happy. Like, if I didn't know any better, I'd say I was the happiest version of myself out there."

It clearly lifts his spirits, but Karkat still raises an eyebrow. "If you didn't know any better?"

The time player gives a shrug and thinks for a moment. "I mean, the happiest version of me is probably the one who's fused with a version of Nepeta. And also kinda hurts my eyes to look at? Last I checked, they were leading a good life. Shacked up with Jade, I think. That's rad."

"Davepetasprite?"

"Davepetasprite squared," he corrects. "Fuck if I know the difference between a regular sprite and a sprite squared, but whatever."

"They do seem pretty happy with Jade," Karkat says, suddenly looking as if he's deep in thought. "Feels weird to think I had decidedly flushed feelings for her a while back. We didn't see each other for a long time, so they're pretty fucking outdated. It's too out of even the realm of semi-relevance to give serious consideration anymore."

Giving a small nod, Dave laughs. "Yeah, can't help but feel the same way."

His phone goes off.

It makes them both jump.

He seriously misses using that little foam ass to talk to people, but for all its ironic hilarity, it's unfortunately not great at sending snaps. Or doing anything at all, really. And behold, his phone makes the familiar sound of a snap. Totally gotta be John.

Except, when Dave pulls out his cell, he ain't met with a picture of John.

"The fuck, dude?" he asks no one in particular.

Karkat looks at him with a mix of concern and curiosity. "Who is it?"

It's a picture of Dirk on the roof of their fucking apartment. The caption shines through his phone screen a bright orange and asks if he's too busy to talk about trade between kingdoms, and Dave really hopes he's joking about that. Because in comparison to staying on the couch and letting Karkat pet him mercilessly into a submissive puddle of disgusting goop that may take the shape of either a diamond or heart depending on his current mood, discussing economics of consorts and tiny trolls is probably the least appealing thing on the newly made planet.

He doesn't even really have the energy to sit up, so he decides instead to roll off of the couch and lands face-first onto the floor.

Well. Shades-first.

Before Karkat can ask him what the fuck's going on, he manages to stand and gives a short wave. "Dirk's here. Be right back."

"I can't really imagine consorts want much of what trolls have. Especially underdeveloped trolls. Not much here to make for a foreign relations policy."

"Oh," Dirk replies, like he didn't totally know that Dave was there. "Yeah, I was fucking with you. I wanted to catch up, that's all. Haven't visited in a little while."

Well, thank fuck for that.

The guy's been standing with his arms crossed, but he looks more laid-back than Dave's seen him in a while. He wonders how the fuck that happened. And that stuff about not visiting in a while is bullshit, 'cause it's been like four days since they last saw each other in person. All things considered, the fact that Dirk is a surprisingly clingy person to those he cares about would be a little bit annoying if Dave wasn't about ten times clingier. And if the fact didn't continue to absolutely shock him anytime he remembers it.

Taking a better look, he realizes the dude's also a little sluggish. Like, that's not really how Dave usually sees him. He wonders why Dirk looks so goddamn exhausted, but tries to word it in a way that doesn't make him sound like a total piece of shit.

"Why do you look so goddamn exhausted?"

Nailed it.

"I've been strifing with Jake lately," Dirk admits as he walks over to the edge of the rooftop and takes a seat. "It's been helping. Gets some of that residual awkwardness out. That, and my reflexes have needed work. Guess I've had a delay in my flash-stepping. Maybe 'cause we've finally settled down on this world. I've felt a little...too safe."

Dave almost trips as he walks to sit next to the other, but is grateful to every God in high heaven that he catches himself. He guesses those Gods would technically include himself, now. Hah.

It's not as if them talking to each other about feelings shit is totally new, or anything. But hearing that voice, coming out of that mouth, with that face, say anything even remotely resembling emotional expression hasn't really stopped being weird. It always sends a flurry of mixed emotions into his gut. But what Dirk's saying isn't wrong, and Dave's pretty sure it's something they can all relate to.

Too safe is a pretty good way to put it.

Maybe it's just because he's spent so much time in his life normalizing shit that obviously wasn't normal that he's started being too paranoid to let himself calm down, that he's over-analyzing everything, even the stuff that doesn't need to be. Because what if he does it again? Being blind to reality is the absolute last thing he wants to go through a second time. Maybe that's why he can't just accept that things are okay, now.

After joining Dirk, he shrugs tensely and then forcibly relaxes his shoulders. "Yeah? Strifing doesn't sound like a bad idea. Might relieve some tension if more of us started doing that, even if we don't really gotta anymore."

"You think so?" Dirk looks at him, tone almost self-conscious. "Sort of thought it was dumb when I suggested it to him, but it turned out alright, I guess. And we agreed to doing it more often."

There's a pause.

It's a bit strange to think of how highly he really values Dave's opinion. He knows it's because the guy always looked up to some alternate version of his brother, but something about it makes him feel triumphant whenever Dirk shows that he actually cares about what Dave thinks. Not that it isn't still super fucking awkward that some younger version of his Bro is so obviously looking for his approval, but still. It's like he's won something, and the reward is a younger carbon copy of his guardian who actually gives a shit about what he has to say, and fuck if that isn't the best reward a guy with confirmed as all hell daddy issues can get.

He would have half a mind to be jealous that Dirk got an older brother figure he can actually look up to, if he was that much of an asshole. But he surprisingly isn't, and it's honestly weird to think that Dirk never harbored any negative feelings toward a guardian who basically had his only relative raise himself long after he ever had the chance to, just to go be some fucked up version of a Hollywood celebrity, even if he didn't really know or have much way to change that.

A thought passes through Dave's head and it's out of his mouth before he knows how to stop himself. "Wanna try it out, man?"

Shit.

"...Strifing?"

He asks it like he's completely sure Dave's going to correct him and say he's talking about some other, totally unrelated thing. And the temptation to go right along with that is massive as shit, but no. He actually is asking to strife. That's absolutely what he's asking. "Yeah," he replies passively, even smiling in a way he hopes comes off as casual instead of sick to his fucking stomach.

Except Dirk isn't buying it.

"Not that I'm against throwing down with a bro twice in one day," he prefaces with a raised eyebrow, "but I can't help wondering the origin of this sudden interest in recreational violence."

Dave decides to ignore the fact that Dirk just used the same word to describe both him and Jake, because that's kind of confusing.

And yeah, it's a pretty decent question to be asking. For that matter, he doesn't have a good reason for why strifing sounds like a good idea, he just feels like it does. He's been on his toes ever since they became Gods of the new world and he's had an itch to take on a nonexistent enemy that just won't go away no matter how hard he tries to tell himself to just fucking relax already.

Because he can't.

He can't fucking relax.

But he's not about to tell Dirk all of that, so he just shrugs and looks down. "Dunno, man. I just think it might help."

Evidently, that's about enough to get Dirk to agree, though he still doesn't seem totally convinced. Whatever. Not like Dave needs him to fully understand.

Then, they've got their swords out, and it's just like he's a kid again.

There's something weirdly nostalgic about the way Dirk moves, like Bro's somehow come back from the dead all on his own and taken the place of the guy who's tried for almost a full year to get on Dave's good side and to prove that he's not the same shitty person that he might have turned out to be in another life that he never lived and was never responsible for. It's like they're back home, back then, fighting on the rooftop like they did every day. It's the scenery that does him in.

Block.

Dodge.

Retaliate.

It's the same fucking patterns he's seen before.

He can really feel each blow. Dirk doesn't fuck around. It's actually sort of awesome. Not sort of, it is awesome. But up close, Dave's able to find subtle differences in how they move. Dirk's form is a tiny bit sloppier than Bro's ever was. He's just a bit slower, a fraction less strategic in every one of his movements. They're similar, so fucking similar, but not exactly the same. It's obvious that he wasn't lying when he said he was rusty, and it's not just in his flash-stepping.

The hilt of his Welsh sword feels natural, because swords are just second nature to him. Dave might have a lot of shitty hangups about fighting and specifically about swords, but he can't deny that they're totally cool and a core part of his identity at this point. It feels good to have it in his hands again.

It's a weird mix of excitement and terror when he narrowly dodges a swing, hears the clank of metal against metal, feels Dirk's sword scrape against his abdomen and open up a small cut. He hasn't actually bled in a while. It feels good to, he thinks. That should be messing him up or even making him feel a little bit uncomfortable, and maybe it is in some fucked up subconscious way, but it's not like he's noticing it. The guy ain't trying too hard, but Dave can't really say that Dirk is holding back, either. It'd be kind of insulting if he ever did.

This is what he's used to. The constant rush of adrenaline and a need to be on high alert, the short breaths and oncoming headache, the tilted detachment from his own body that makes him feel like he's on another fucking plane of existence.

And then - oh, goddamnit - Dirk stops.

That's not what Dave's used to.

The blow he expects from his opponent never comes, so he holds out his sword in a blocking position for no reason. Instead of dashing forward, Dirk takes a step back and leaves himself wide open for an attack. Openings aren't what Dave usually sees in Bro, so it throws him off-guard and makes him stumble back, though his stance is still vehemently defensive. He goes to open his mouth to ask just why Dirk prematurely put a pause on their session when it was clearly going so well.

But his mouth is already open and the words aren't comin' out. He can clearly feel himself trying to speak, but there's not enough air in his lungs to push out the words, and he ends up letting out a short, cut-off groan. What the fuck?

Sweat's rolling down the side of his face. His breathing is hitched and ragged. His vision's started to blur a little bit. And they're only, like, five minutes into their fight. That's kind of not normal for a normal strife. He tries to force his limbs to stop shaking, but wow, what a shocker, they're not exactly in the mood to listen to him at the moment. As a matter of fact, nothing in his body is very willing to cooperate with what he actually wants.

That's kind of fucking scary. Feeling out of control is always horrible for him, especially when it's hard to find the cause. Or, y'know, it would be scary if he wasn't already terrified out of his mind for no good or logical reason.

The realization hits him, but not as quick as it should.

He's having a panic attack.

Not only that, but he's having one right in front of Dirk.

Well, this is just about the worst fucking thing ever.

"Uh," Dirk says very eloquently as he captchalogues the sword away.

And even without seeing his eyes, it's pretty obvious that he's sporting a look of surprised concern. The expression of, dude, what the fuck's wrong with you, actually manages to make Dave feel even more stupid. He doesn't even remember dropping his own sword and bringing a hand up to his constricted chest, but it's apparently there now. Dirk takes a step forward, and without even waiting for him to take any action, Dave holds up his free hand to stop him.

He's had anxiety attacks in front of others before and, unless it's coming from Karkat, physical contact is the absolute last thing that'll help him. Jade learned that the hard way. He still feels awful for violently pushing her away from him once. She's said multiple times that she wasn't hurt by it, but it's still made him way more cautious about being anywhere near people when he's like this.

...Why did he think fighting would be a good idea?

That's the last thing he's been wanting to do since the game ended.

He's been so afraid and on edge because he was worried that he'd need to fight again, not because he wanted to fight again. When the fuck was the last time he actually wanted to fight anyone?

Never, that's when.

Maybe that's an exaggeration, but what isn't an exaggeration is that he's pretty damn sure this is the single most mortifying thing to happen to him in the history of ever. Yeah, okay, maybe that's actually an exaggeration, too. But who gives a shit? Not Dave Strider.

It's just so fucking irritating that everything in his life apparently has to be dictated by the aftermath of what his Bro did. That basically his whole childhood was taken away and morphed into something that would shape any and all actions he'd take and reactions he'd have to the most basic of shit. A guy who's been dead for more than three years is somehow more invasive to Dave's thoughts and even his fucking bodily functions than anyone who's actually alive right now. What Bro was doing is so obvious now that he can't even find a small part of it funny anymore. It was exactly like how all of Rose's shitty books described it.

But he's not gonna say it. He knows the word, but he's not gonna say what it is.

Saying it, even if it's just in his mind, is totally out of the question. Acknowledging what it was would somehow make it real. He hasn't even said the word to Karkat.

Not that he really needs to. Not at all.

Once he finally regains use of his muscles like a normal fucking person and can actually get a generally recommended amount of air into his lungs, he decides to straighten himself out and stretches an arm up. The cut near his stomach is now pretty annoying, but he ignores it. No need to pick his sword back up right away. He's not in any rush to get out of there as soon as fucking possible, no way, absolutely not.

After taking a look at Dirk, Dave decides to turn away. He isn't really prepared to confront that mix of shock and worry gradually turning into realization and guilt like he's seen it do before. He decides to retake the spot he was once in, legs dangling over the side of his apartment roof, back turned to the other.

Dirk joins after just a few moments.

"Hey, uh," he starts carefully. "Are you, y'know...okay?"

"Huh? Yeah, dude," Dave waves off, ignoring that his voice cracks, because wow, that's not humiliating at all. "I'm good. What would be even better, though, is if we could totally just erase that entire strife session from our memory. Especially that last part, would be super cool if we just pretended like it didn't happen. That might actually trump absolutely anything else as the most undeniably awesome thing in existence."

His rambling somehow makes things worse.

It also brings on an obvious look of sympathy from Dirk. What's funny is how he's practically never as expressive around others as he is around Dave. Whether that's a result of trust or him being overly conscious of his own similarities with Bro, Dave can't really determine. "I get what you mean, but," he pushes firmly, "I just don't think that was something I should ignore? If you don't want to talk about it, though, that's fine."

Dave lifts his shoulders in what's probably supposed to be a shrug, but he ends up just hiding his face instead. "Funny story about that," he says without even a hint of humor in his voice, 'cause they both can tell it ain't a funny story. "I've kinda got, uh, anxiety. Like, the disorder and shit. Super overrated. I wouldn't recommend it."

And with that, he can't really bear to look at his not-brother straight in the face anymore. Dave decides to lean back until he's facing the clouds and his back is pressed against the familiar roof. He throws an arm over his shades.

The question's on the tip of his tongue. Dave knows it is, because Dirk is the one person who knows the most about what Bro's done in the past and Dave thinks that maybe he overdid it when revealing just how much still affects him to this day. It wasn't like he was lying, but he probably shouldn't have revealed so much, and the proof of that is in the nervousness that radiates off of Dirk as he forms the question. "Is it...is it because of - ?"

"Y'know, monarchy is kind of a fucked up concept," Dave interrupts and uncovers his face, looking up to the sky through his shades and deciding not to let his eyes wander to the other teen in his periphery. "I was just thinking, this kingdom shit is probably not very politically sound if we wanna have a stable world. Plus, it's not even a traditional take on what a monarchy is. Doesn't it seem like kind of a mess, man?"

It's obvious even in the corner of his gaze that Dirk is giving him a stern look. "You're changing the subject on me here."

"Yeah, I know," Dave confirms without hesitation as he sits back up, still refusing to look at the other. "And yeah, it's 'cause of my Bro. Sorry, man. Can't really control it. Wish I could. It'd be pretty cool if I could, but hey, I guess the human body's reaction to trauma is a huge dick even to Gods."

He mulls the word over in his mind so hard that he misses how Dirk flinches.

Trauma. Trauma's a good word. It's serious, but not too serious. It can be applied to a lot of things, so it isn't a super definitive term. It can work.

It can certainly work a lot better than, well -

"No, I know, I'm only saying. It isn't my intention to...fuck you up even more than another version of me obviously already has," there's a distinct amount of guilt in his voice. "I'm not really an expert on the whole - well, the abuse front, I guess. And I just want you to know that I'm not going to, uh - shit, I mean, look. I don't want to...hurt you, either. As in, I don't really want you doing shit you're not comfortable with? Or that you don't want. Especially considering who I am to you."

The silence that follows is on account of Dave being rendered absolutely fucking speechless.

His hands instinctively tighten into fists. A cold feeling runs down his spine while a warm one spreads through his chest, emotions he's not particularly proud to be having at the same time. Someone finally said the word and it's not coming from anyone he expected it to. It rings in his head like twenty of the universe's most annoying alarm clocks. It's shot through his skull like a bullet and instead of landing on the ground it just hangs in midair, once and for all out there for the masses to look at and judge and analyze to no end.

Abuse. That's a giant package that'll need some careful unwrapping and it's not one he's up for opening right now.

He almost jumps at a quick movement in his peripheral vision. Even though he knows there's nothing to be cautious of and that he's been avoiding looking at Dirk the entire time, Dave can't stop his eyes from habitually darting toward the source. What he finds isn't really something he thinks he'd ever be prepared for under any circumstances.

Dirk's shades are off. They're in his hands as his head is turned to face Dave.

Which totally destroys Dave's very perception of reality, by the way.

Like, he never saw Bro without his shades. It was just never a thing that happened in all the thirteen years he was stuck under the asshole's thumb, and he never expected it to. He's seen Bro's bright orange eyes behind his shades before when he was smashed up against a wall, his brother's face closely scrutinizing him, but the shades themselves? Yeah, they never came off. And getting his own pair of shades made him understand that, to an extent. Eyes are a pretty good indicator of emotion, and if you're playing the role of emotionless douchebag, they come in handy.

That, and Dave's certified sentimental garbage, and refuses to remove what was a gift from his best friend, no matter whether he's entirely qualified to call John that anymore or not.

It's sort of like Dirk's face is missing something crucial, but it also brings even more of a divide between both him and Bro in Dave's mind, even if it doesn't make a whole lot of sense. And as all of these thoughts are going through his head, one in particular stands out far above the others.

This guy must be super fucking desperate.

Dirk is probably playing it out unironically as an act of real trust. It's the dumbest and most basic shitty soap opera situation Dave's been a part of in a while and he can't help but crack an appreciative smile. It's not only that, though. He thinks he's actually needed to hear the words "I don't want to hurt you," from the guy, as pathetic as that sounds, and that the word "abuse," really needed to be added to his vocabulary sometime soon. For someone who's so adamant that his relationships are all going down the shitter, Dirk is shockingly good with words and emotional timing.

Which is why Dave lurches forward and presses his face into Dirk's chest.

The dude turns himself to face Dave so it isn't angled so awkwardly and Dave's working so hard to hide himself that he's sure his shades are digging uncomfortably into Dirk's skin, but he also can't bring himself to give a shit. The affection is there, man. It's happenin'. They're both strapped in on the Familial Affection Transit and they're rapidly turning the corner of Awkward Avenue and Embarrassment Street with no stop signs visible for miles.

Dirk questions him briefly with an "oh," and then quickly resigns with an "alright." He brings his hands up to Dave's shoulders in a comforting almost-hug and ducks slightly so his chin is resting on Dave's head. Whether the reciprocation makes Dave feel better or worse, he's not really sure, but he's leaning pretty heavily on the former. And he feels compelled to wrap his own arms around Dirk, which he does without thinking. It's all kind of amazing in an awful way. Really, no one should enable his constant and frankly pitiful need for physical affection. Especially the brotherly kind.

"Dude, I want you to punch me for saying this," Dave speaks, voice muffled but still audible. "I don't really think I know what it means to put in the type of effort to create a healthy brotherly relationship. And I can't exactly speak for myself. But I have a feeling you're doing a pretty good job on this one."

After a moment where he's pretty damn sure he can feel Dirk's breath hitch and the guy's shoulders relax - he didn't even realize they were tense before, damn - he can feel a fist lightly tap his head.

Wow. What an asshole.

Dave tightens the embrace.