A/N: Well, I'm having an anxiety attack over my homework and it's ten an night and it's all due tomorrow so what better to do than to write.

Sorry, readers of A Beautiful Red but I've kinda lost my steam for that for the moment, so yay you get another DaveJohn. Wait, what's that? DirkJake as WELL?! You guys are in for a treat.

Of course it's all angsty, though – what else?

Anyway, enjoy, I guess.

==Be the coolkid.

It seemed like another boring, unproductive day when you set off on your usual nightly walk. Dirk was blasting his awful heave metal music, so you set off a little earlier than usual to get away from it. You don't really know why you go on nightly walks – seems a little bad shoujo anime, but you don't care. Your apartment gets pretty stuffy if you and Dirk stay in there together all the time so you try and get out of the house as much as possible. Dirk only leaves occasionally to hang out with Roxy and Jane and that weird Equius guy & his friends, but he stays at home and demands his friends come to him most of the time. You don't mind him hanging out with friends at home; you actually usually end up hanging with them. They're cool.

Your watch read 9:32, and you set off.

You took your usual pathway, down by the small shopping district just outside your town before the big streets and stores. It's a quiet walk, especially at this time – you only pass by a few people on their way out to the bars or home from work that didn't pay you any mind.

You were almost home when you saw something move in the alleyway a short way away from your apartment. And, being the curious little shit you are, you walked in there and saw something pretty odd. Which brings us up to real time.

There are two boys sat hidden behind the dumpster, fast asleep. They look pretty similar: dark hair, glasses - brothers maybe? The larger of the two is curled protectively around the smaller, as if attempting to hide him from view. Their ratty tee-shirts are dirty and torn and their joggers don't fit them properly at all. Holy shit, they don't even have shoes; their bare feet are scarred and bleeding.

Anyway, they look pretty cold and definitely unhealthy – they're thin as twigs and look like a pebble would break every bone in their body. Shit, you're gonna regret this – but they're gonna die out here if you don't. You stretch a hand out slowly, but your wrist is grabbed and a gun pressed to your temple before you can even touch either of them. It takes you a moment to come back to your senses – how can anyone move that fast without flash-stepping, which is a private Strider family secret? You look down, and sure enough the larger of the two boys is glaring up at you with bright green eyes, pushing the groggy other boy further behind him.

"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" he grits, voice laced with malice and a British accent. "You want to kill us? Did one of your little friends dare you? Well, I hope you get a few kicks out of this!"

The other boy is coming to his senses slowly, blue eyes gazing up at you with a strong light of utter terror.

"Jake, Jake, what's happening? Is he gonna hurt us?" blue-eyes is whispering desperately, trying to get a good look at you while also trying to hide. He looks ready to put up a fight, even though you'd bet your turntables you'd win in a matter of seconds with him in this state.

"Don't worry, John. If he even tries, I'll blow his brains out" it was an answer to John's question, but it was directed at you. You put the hand that isn't being gripped by Jake up in defence, shaking it desperately. Shit, shit, shit, this guy's gonna kill you…!

"Ch-chill, dude, I don't wanna hurt you!" you struggle to keep your voice steady under Jake's terrifying glare. "You're asleep in an alley looking close to death, I was worried!" Jake looks unimpressed, and you thank God for your shades so your terror isn't any more obvious than it already is. Okay, okay, calm down!

"Listen, if you want you can like stay at my apartment or something. You can eat and shower and sleep in an actual bed—"

"We don't need your help" Jake cuts you off, voice flat and dismissive, "now leave us alone."

John, who still looks like a rabbit in headlights, shuffles closer to him, struggling to tear his wary gaze off you.

"Wait, Jake" he whispers, "maybe we should go with him."

Jake turns to him and leans in closer. They start whispering to each other, but you catch little bits of their conversation.

'What if he's just like the others?'

'But what if he's not?'

'John, you're too trusting.'

'No, you're just too wary of everyone!'

'I just don't want to go back to that place. I promised to protect you, and I don't plan on breaking that promise!'

John glares at him. And they hush up again, leaving you only with the tiny movements of their lips. Damn, you really should've watched that lip-reading tutorial on YouTube last night! It certainly would be of more use than Llamas with Hats.

Wait, you take that back. Llamas with Hats is the shit.

Oh, wait. They've stopped talking.

Jake sighs in what seems to be defeat and John giggles at him.

"Fine" Jake sighs melodramatically, "we'll go with you."

You suppress a victorious laugh as you gesture for them to get up.

They struggle to their feet, and you move to help John when he almost falls. Jake slaps you away and John looks embarrassed. You don't offer your help again after that.

The walk home is slow, but you don't mind. Jake demanded you walk in front, at least three feet away, so you don't try anything. Not wanting them to run off again and die in that alleyway, you agreed and resorted to glancing over your shoulder at them every 0.2 seconds. John is holding onto Jake's arm like a child would, enjoying what's most likely the first walk in a long time when they didn't have to worry…much. Soon enough, you reach the apartment after climbing a couple hundred flights of stairs. They're both noticeably far more out-of-breath than they should be.

You lead them into the lounge and command them to stay there while Dirk skins you alive and bites your head off.

==Dave: Be the British guy

You are now the British guy, and you are currently stood awkwardly in a stranger's apartment while he gets yelled at by some other guy in another room. Bloody hell, you thought one Texan bastard was bad enough. Is everyone here this loud?

John is still clutching your arm, and you notice he's shaking and breathing heavily. Dammit, you knew he'd have a panic attack! You stay silent, afraid to speak, and simply hold his hand comfortingly. You held hands a lot. Not romantically, just platonically, really – you always have. Since you first met him, you both found comfort in holding hands. It had started mostly when you were both very young, but it stuck as a habit.

Anyway, it seems that young what's-his-face is done arguing with his roommate and they are now returning. To your mild surprise, a tall fellow with blonde hair and odd shades steps through the door first, looking royally pissed. His face softens ever so slightly, however, when he catches sight of how pitiful you and John look in your dirty old clothes that would be too small if you weren't half-starved. He stops a little way away, but you're still intimidated by him. He's quite a bit taller than you, and looks a lot stronger.

"So, these are the guys you picked up off the street like a completely fucking moron?" weird-shades asks, although the answer is rather obvious. Aviators nods.

"Well, I guess introductions are in order" he says calmly, as if this is completely normal. Hell, maybe it is for him?

"My name's Dirk Strider, 17, and your little guardian angel here is Dave, 16 – my brother."

You glance at John, and he's still stood silently examining the floor, so you take it upon yourself to introduce the two of you.

"My name is Jake English, 17. This is John Egbert, 16."

Dirk nods slowly and sits down on the futon, motioning for you and John to join him. Dave stays standing instead of trying to squeeze on as well. The softness is unfamiliar but definitely not unwelcome, but you can't get comfortable. You're tense and nervous and worried.

You know what's coming: the questions. So you simply sit quietly and hold John's hand.

==Jake: Be the guy wearing dumb anime shades

Oi, they're not dumb!

Anyway, you are now the guy wearing – NOT – dumb anime shades with two random street kids sat on your futon. Dave picked them up after finding them in an alleyway, and needless to say you're a little pissed.

Your first thought was, of course, serial killers, but that thought had left you when you actually saw them. They were both small, unhealthily skinny little things with dark hair and close-to-breaking glasses. They both look fully prepared to keel over. You wonder how long they'd been on the streets.

Jake is glaring up at you despite his general kind aura, and John is staring at his knees looking terrified. It's gonna take a while to calm that kid down.

"So," you begin, and Jake exhales like he knows what you're going to say, "why were you on the streets?"

Jake gives a pointed look to no one in particular, and sighs. "I don't really want to talk about it."

"Well, I'm sorry, dude, but you're gonna have to. Otherwise I'm just gonna have to report you to the police" it's a total lie – you'd never be so cruel as to do that, but Jake's eyes widen and he screams 'no!' so loud you're surprised no one's called the cops anyway. John looks up, horrified, and bursts into tears.

Okay, now you feel bad. You gesture awkwardly for Dave to take John to his room or something, and he quickly complies. He drags John away quietly and runs off to his room, leaving you and Jake alone.

"Well done, asshole" Jake mutters, glaring harshly at you. Yeah, you deserved that.

"Fancy telling me now?" you try and soften your voice a little as you gesture to the lack of kiddie-winks. He sighs deeply and gives you a look.

"Okay, let's just say that our family wasn't exactly very nice. We met when John was adopted by my father and soon became close friends. I guess we're technically brothers."

You nod to show your understanding after he pauses briefly, and he continues.

"Anyway, my father isn't a nice man, so we ran away. That was…god, three? Four years ago? We've been living on the streets ever since, moving from city to city."

You nod again as he finishes his story and glance at the digital clock on an end table. 11:03.

"Guessing you're tired?" you ask, and he nods. "C'mon. You don't wanna sleep in here, trust me."

He follows you to your room and catches the old clothes you throw at him.

"Go shower or get changed or whatever you want" you say, pointing out the bathroom and he rushes off. You hear the shower running a few minutes later.

God, you must be crazy.

A/N: I got really lazy towards the end I am sorry. Anyway, what do you cuties think? Cliché enough for you?

I couldn't pick a pairing so y'all get both of 'em. And I'm sorry if this seems OOC I will fix that as soon as I reach 'Smooth Writing Time'.

Please review, I guess!