In answer to the prompt over on tumblr that Bro finds out that Dave is ticklish.

Title: Bonding

Pairing(s): Platonic Dave/Bro

Disclaimer: I do not own Homestuck, but I do really really love writing Dave.

It's quiet. You shift your sunglasses down your nose slightly just so you can push them back up again as you think, in the most dramatic way possible, too quiet. You press yourself against the wall, on high alert for any sudden sound or motion. Damn your Bro and his (totally epic) flash step. Suddenly a puff of air just barely touches your ankle and you launch yourself forward as a katana buries itself in the plaster above your head. You tuck and roll, because you're Dave fucking Strider and if anyone can tuck and roll like a spandex-wearing gymnast without spilling a drop of the sweet nectar of the gods that is apple juice, it's you.

You bounce back to your feet immediately and drain the juice before crunching the little plastic bottle in your hand and dropping it to the ground, grabbing a different sword from the wall. It appears that you and Bro are to have one of your totally fucking epic manly sword fighting sessions of brotherly bonding.

It's silent again as you advance, stepping forward carefully, one foot, then the other, when suddenly something other than floor meets your foot and a mighty squeak erupts from the puppet you'd stepped on, a squeak that totally doesn't make you nearly shit your pants in terror.

Of course Bro takes advantage of your sudden lapse of concentration to check on the status of your pants and flashes behind you. You flash out of the way and the fight begins in earnest. Bro is in rare form today, forgoing most of the flash steps as he systematically kicks your ass.

In no time he has you backed against the wall, which would bother you if it wasn't so fucking cool watching him wield that katana like Luke Skywalker facing down Darth Vader. Bro gives you a thumbs up that he then quickly switches to a thumbs down before flashing away and leaving you alone.

You sigh and lean against the wall. Dang it, now you needed some more juice. You leave the sword on the ground and head into the kitchen to snag yourself another bottle of that sweet sweet elixir. Bro is in the kitchen, which is surprising, since you usually don't see him right after a battle of manlitude. He's standing at the counter, pouring himself a bowl of cereal. He glances at you as you open the fridge and quirks an eyebrow at the box. You snort. Would you like some Lucky Charms… is that even a fucking question? There's a reason that poor leprechaun is constantly being chased around the world by those whacked out kids.

Bro grins loosely and pours you a bowl and you pass him the milk. By mutual agreement, you head into the living room and spend a brief moment wrestling over the remote. You give up fairly quickly because A. Bro always picks good tv and B. Everything lessens in importance when the sanctity of your Lucky Charms is on the line. Bro flicks on the tube and you both settle down to watch a nice long Project Runway marathon because damn are those some sassy ass gay men and Tim Gunn is fabulous.

You're shoveling spoonfuls of cereal and judging the use of satin with tulle when you catch Bro eyeing you. You put down your spoon as Bro leans towards you.

"Maybe we should spar more, little man. You're lookin' a little squishy." He grins as you make a noise of moral outrage because fuck no you are not flabby when Bro extends his pointer finger dramatically and pokes you hard in the side.

You erupt from the couch with a manly squeak and nearly knock your lucky charms to the floor in your frantic urge to get away from Bro's finger. Bro's face splits into a wide shit-eating grin and you only have time to curse his existence before he pounces on top of you. The two of you crash to the floor and you lose all pretense of any sort of stoicism as Bro begins to tickle you. You flail and shriek and punch at your Bro, who has suddenly become a pillar of totally unmovable brick wall as he keeps you pinned to the floor. There's a puppet digging into your back and you're pretty sure that Bro's fat ass is cutting off the blood flow to some very important areas you'd really prefer the blood to continue to flow.

You're not really thinking about that, however. You're thinking about Bro's suddenly ridiculous dancing fingers finding places on your body you didn't even know were ticklish and you're really really regretting that apple juice right about now because damn it you haven't wet your pants since you were like six and you are so not breaking that streak now when Bro suddenly sits back, laughing uproariously and sweet sweet relief he stops tickling you.

You heave breaths before hitting him in the stomach weakly. "Get off." You grunt and Bro rolls off of you. You sit there for a moment, looking at each other as he snickers before you lunge at him, fingers outstretched and he leaps away, on his feet in less than a second and darting away as you crack your neck and prepare to give chase.

Oh, it is so fucking on.

Thanks for reading, all!

3 Pom