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It takes forever for Dirk to leave John’s apartment in the mornings.
It always happens like this. It’s pretty much routine at this point: Dirk’s internal clock wakes him up at the crack of dawn, he moves to get dressed, John rolls over and nabs him back into bed. It’s another hour before Dirk insists, sometimes because of work, most times because he wants to get home before Dave wakes up and begins asking questions. John always manages to get him to eat breakfast with him before he catches the bus back to his own apartment complex.
It’s a silly routine, sure. It’s silly and sickeningly domestic, but Dirk is always surprised at how much he doesn’t mind it. He’d never pinned himself as one to enjoy the calmer parts of a relationship, after all. One day he hopes that the routine can extend all the way into the afternoon, just lounging in bed all day until the ache in their stomachs is too much to bear and they make breakfast together, half-dressed and sleepy in the kitchen. One day, he always says. Once they stop having to dance circles around Dave.
Dave Strider, Dirk’s brother, was by no means homophobic. He had always been supportive of his brother and wasn’t exactly straight himself, although he didn’t quite have a label for it yet. It was just that Dave and John had been best friends since they had met at 11 years old. They both agreed that Dave realizing that his older brother was dating his best friend was something to be introduced slowly, at the right time. Hence the sneaking back into the house before Dave woke up every morning Dirk spent the night at John’s.
Was it tiring? Yeah. Was he going to find out eventually? Of course. They were going to tell him at some point, and it was kind of annoying to not be able to interact every time Dave was around. It would happen someday- or at least that was the mantra they repeated back to each other every time the subject came up.
Shakespeare once wrote that parting was such sweet sorrow. Dirk feels that acutely as he leaves John’s warm apartment building and shoulders his way into the cold morning air. His morning-after outfits are designed for this exact situation, though, and he’s quite proud of it. Hat to hide the bedhead, as he hadn’t stocked John’s bathroom with his hair products yet; hoodie thrown over it with the hood up to hide any blatantly visible marks on his neck; and a jacket over that for some added warmth and style. He prides himself in this, and is thankful for the jacket as a cold breeze sweeps through the bus stop area as he arrives.
It’s still pretty early, so he’s the only one at the bus stop. The bus is slated to come soon, so he remains standing and pulls out his phone. He thumbs through his camera roll and rewatches a video he took of John last night: the younger man had placed their Dominoes pizza dinner on china plates and pretended to be a Gordon Ramsey-esque chef critic, complete with the shitty British accent and everything. Dirk can’t help but smile as he hears himself laugh hysterically in the background.
In the video, John says “Remy the rat’s infant cousin could make better pizza-” just before Dirk notices another guy in the bus stop and exits out of the video just in time for the other man to come into earshot. He stuffs his phone back into his hoodie’s pocket and stares across the street through his triangular shades, assuming his regular nonchalant air. Still, he’s curious by nature. To hell with it. He shoots a glance at his companion out of the corner of his eye- and almost chokes.
“Dave?”
His brother turns to look at him, eyebrows shooting up from behind his classic shades in surprise. “Oh shit. Dirk. Sup.” He has the vibe of someone who just got caught doing something they shouldn’t have, but he keeps his classic Strider cool.
They stare at each other for a second, both obviously surprised to see the other there, and both painfully aware that there are now two assholes wearing shades at a bus stop. One is a good maximum, usually.
Dirk kicks at the pavement, then slumps onto the bench of the bus stop. “Alright, I’ll bite. What’re you doing here?”
Dave looks away quickly, a gesture Dirk knows means that he’s about to tell something that’s not the truth. “Oh, you know,” he says, sitting down next to Dirk with a shrug, “Sleepover with John. Bro things, the regular, you know.”
It takes everything in Dirk’s power to keep himself from letting out a sharp bark of laughter. So this is his game, huh? Alright. He raises a brow calmly. “Oh, how nice. And how is that Egbert, huh.”
Dave runs a hand through his own bleached bedhead, and the older Strider is suddenly aware that his brother might just be in the same predicament as him. One look at his clothes- the same that he wore yesterday, quelle surprise- confirms it. Dirk shakes his head and thinks of how hard John would be laughing right now.
“He’s good, he’s good,” Dave says, picking at the dirt under his nails absentmindedly- or at least, Dirk would think so if he didn’t know he was bullshitting it so goddamn hard. “I beat him at Mario Kart like, three times.”
“Mmmokay,” Dirk nods, casually leaning back to check out the apartment complex behind them. He clicks his tongue innocently and hums, “Do ya know anyone else who lives in these apartments?” Before Dave can even think of eyeing him suspiciously, he comments, “It’s a damn nice apartment, I’d like to get an inside opinion on it just in case I ever want to leave your sorry ass back home.”
The halfhearted punch he receives is quickly followed by “Well, this guy Sollux, from my coding class, he lives here, uhh, and I know his girlfriend so I guess her too. John, obviously, and uhhh…” the pause is long enough, calculated enough, that Dirk knows he’s hit it. “Oh! Yeah, um, my friend Karkat. That’s it.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk about a Karkat before, man.” Dirk spots the bus coming down the road and stands, slipping his hand into his pockets to fish out some bus fare. “Weird name, but that’s common around here I guess.”
Dave snorts, “Tell me about it.” He hops up from the bench and opens his wallet, catching some of the change that threatens to fall out onto the concrete. “And yeah, Karkat’s pretty cool. Loud, kind of annoying, but he’s an alright guy. I guess.”
The bus stops with a screech of the brakes, and the Strider brothers board without any incidents (when Dave forgets his bus fare, shit goes down). They choose to sit in separate seats, as per usual, Dave settling into the seat in front of Dirk. Dirk takes the opportunity and pulls out his phone.
TT: Guess who I ran into at the bus stop.
EB: mike birbiglia!
TT: No. Speaking of, you need to stop being addicted to Netflix comedy specials.
EB: boohoo dirk doesn’t want me to have fun :p
TT: Shush. Anyway.
TT: A certain Dave Strider just spent the night at his friend Karkat’s.
EB: oh my god really!!!!! dude you have no idea the tension between them is unbearable sometimes i’m glad they worked it out
TT: That’s not all.
TT: Dave is trying to play it off by saying he spent the night at your apartment.
TT: John? Hello?
EB: sorry i was crying in laughter
EB: what are you gonna do??
TT: I don’t know yet.
TT: On one hand I could just let him be. He’s obviously trying to cover up the facts.
TT: But the irony…. its pull is strong, man. I’m like a magnet drawn towards the cold metal of a fridge made by Irony and Company.
EB: okay im gonna stop you before you extend that metaphor any longer than it needs to be
EB: why don’t you just tell him? like dave you weren’t at john’s apartment because lo and behold i was haha pranked
TT: Maybe. I’ll think of something. Talk to you later.
EB: okay! bye dirk
EB: <3
TT: Nerd.
TT: <3
Dirk smiles softly, already missing John’s playful banter, then kicks Dave’s seat to get his attention. Once Dave’s annoyed face peeks out from above the seat, he deadpans, “Look, man. I’m not gonna play any mind game-y shit on you like some demented puppet master or some crap anime villain in stupid shorts and tights. Were you at Karkat’s last night?”
Dave looks at him incredulously, the city flashing by reflected in his shades. “Bro, what?” His voice cracks, though, betraying his guilt. “Dude. Fine. Sure. I spent the night at Karkat’s and had splendid brotimes with him instead of John. Why does it matter.”
“It doesn’t,” Dirk shrugs, slumping against the window of the bus, accidentally knocking his shades askew in the process. He takes them off entirely- there’s nobody else on the bus except for Dave, after all. He pops them on top of his hat and says, “Not to me. It must mean something to you if you lied, though.”
His brother scoffs and settles back into his seat, obviously miffed. He stays down for about a minute before, predictably, sitting back up and accusing, “Why were you even at that apartment complex, anyway? Did you follow me there just to embarrass me? That’s messed up, even for you, man.”
Dirk raises an eyebrow, a wry grin spreading across his freckled face, “Oh, well, if you gotta know, I was at John’s.” He folds his arms in front of his chest and watches as Dave rolls his eyes, annoyed.
“Did you ever pay attention in school when the principal gave a speech about the merits of not bullying people? I don’t think you did. That would explain a lot, actually,” Dave snorts, mimicking Dirk’s position against the seat. “You can’t use my excuse, that’s bullshit, dude.”
“I promise I’m not bullshitting,” the older Strider grins, “Why would I lie to you after exposing you for lying? You gotta admit your logic is flawed.”
“Again with the bullying, man.”
Dirk allows himself an eye roll before insisting, “I’m serious. I spent the night at John’s. We had- sorry, what did you call it? What you did with Karkat?” He pauses for a moment, then snaps his gloved fingers. “Oh yes. ‘Splendid brotimes’.”
Dave narrows his eyes, gears clearly starting to turn in his head. “You don’t know what I meant.”
He narrows his eyes right back. “I’d think twice about that one, man.”
Dave blinks once. Then twice. The color drains from his face.
The ensuing yell is loud enough to make the bus driver slam the breaks and kick the brothers out the door. They spend the walk home laughing about the bus, John, Karkat, life in general.
The next time Dirk wakes up impossibly warm in John’s arms, he smiles and settles right back in.