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It's 4:13 PM on the dot when you arrive home from school, just like always. You duck as you swing through the door in case Bro set the shuriken trap again. But no bladed weapons make themselves evident, nor any fireworks, cherry bombs, or other assorted explosives. Not even any puppets. Huh, guess Bro is feeling magnanimous today.
"Yo, guess who scored a cool C+ on his algebra midterm," you call out as you kick your shoes off and sling your backpack off to the side. "That's right, this dude. Turns out even that bitch Ms. Gretchner couldn't find a way to flunk me no matter how much she wants me outta her class. She can spill all the red ink she wants over how I'm not solving the problems right or what the fuck ever, but she can't change facts, and facts is I get the right answer a solid 78% of the time, so the next time she tries to call you up saying I don't got what it takes, you can tell her to stick it up her uhhhhhh what the fuck," you trail off, because you just rounded the corner to find your Bro making out with a skinhead on the futon.
Bro doesn't make the slightest effort to stop sucking face to greet you, but the dude he's macking on meets your eyes over his head, pupils going wide, and damn, there's an eye color you've never seen outside of a mirror before. He shoves himself away from Bro with a wet pop and sits straight up in his lap. "Oh shit!" he says in the most grating voice you've ever heard. "Dirk. You didn't tell me you had spawn."
"That's my bro," Bro says, then tries to drag him back down into their kiss. The skinhead shoves his face away.
"Stop that," he says. "I am talking to the crotch dropping now."
Bro takes this treatment with equanimity and sucks two of the dude's fingers into his mouth instead. The dude hisses, ears flushing red. Why is this happening.
But a Strider is nothing if he can't roll with anything, so you gather all the cool you've got and ask, "Yeah so who the fuck are you?"
The dude grins maliciously, exposing a wickedly sharp golden canine. His lips are still shiny with Bro's spit. "I am. Your worst nightmare," he declares.
It's only your years of training in the art of stoicism that keep you from busting into incredulous laughter. "Holy shit, are you for real?" you deadpan. "Bro, where did you find this dude?"
"Gun show," Bro replies shortly.
Your first instinct is to ask if he picks up a lot of dudes at gun shows. Then you remember that what you actually want to know is since when he picks up dudes at all. Then you think maybe the real question is what the hell possessed him to pick up this dude, specifically.
Nightmare Dude cuts your musing short with a cackle that could have been sampled straight from a Saturday morning cartoon villain. "Yes. I encountered your 'bro'. Perusing the light explosives. With a goddamn sword strapped to his back. Which struck me as a particularly worthless display. When he was surrounded by real men's weapons. What is a sword supposed to do. Against a gun? So to prove how dumb his choice of weapon was. I shot him."
"You what."
"Shot him! What are you. Deaf??"
"You shot my Bro. With a gun."
"What are you so upset about," the dude gripes. "Obviously he is fine. In fact. My bullet didn't hit at all. Because. He did this sick ninja leap and sliced it in half in midair?? Fucking badass."
Bro hums in apparent agreement and starts mouthing his way up Nightmare Dude's arm. You suddenly understand with terrifying clarity why your Bro would be drawn to this dude in particular.
But you don't want Bro to think you're a wimp, so you shove aside any concerns you might have about that batshit story and ask, "So, what, it was love at first insane stunt?"
Nightmare Dude clutches Bro's shirt in what you can only describe as scandalized glee. "Urrrrrrrrrrgh. Nasty. As if I would ever 'fall in love'. What do you think I am. Some sort of simpering female?" He spits to indicate his disdain of that idea, but misses the floor and just hucks a glob of saliva onto the back of the futon instead. Gross.
"No," he continues. "What happened was. I was pissed that my bullet didn't meet its mark. So I shot him a few more times. To see if it was a fluke that he survived. And then. After he continued to be alive despite my best efforts. And we both got kicked out of the gun show. I hired him."
"Hired him to do what?" you ask, hoping your tone says coolly disinterested rather than freaked the fuck out.
"Wouldn't you like to know," he sneers.
"I mean, yeah? That's why I asked."
He folds his arms on top of Bro's head and rests his chin there. "Haa. Haa. Haa. Well. Maybe someday. You will find out." His eyes gleam with malice.
Abruptly, you decide that you wouldn't like to know after all. In fact, there's not a single subject in the world that you feel more invested in maintaining your ignorance about. You glance at Bro, wishing he would say something. Like maybe, Leave my little bro out of this. Or maybe, Actually, I changed my mind about wanting to bone a trigger-happy gun freak, get the fuck out of my apartment. But instead what he does is lean forward and lick Nightmare Dude's nipple through his shirt, which the dude somehow doesn't even seem to notice.
So in the absence of any support from your Bro, you do what you do in any uncomfortable situation, which is to open up your big mouth and dig yourself in even deeper.
"Wow. Cool story. Definitely not setting off any alarm bells at all, figurative or literal. But it still doesn't explain what you're doing here, as in, all cozied up in my Bro's lap with your tongue down his throat. Unless this is what you hired him to do."
Bro removes his lips from the dude's body long enough to say, "I'm a pornographer, not a rent boy."
"As if I would ever need to pay for a hot piece of ass. What with all the hoes clamoring for my dick all the time," the dude adds. He slides back down into Bro's lap and wraps his arms around his neck. "No. Dirk here. Is a kindred spirit. He is the only other person I have ever met. Who understands true filth."
As if in demonstration—though of what, you have no idea—Bro presses a slow kiss to his cheek, close-mouthed and gentle. The dude fuckin' melts against him. "Fuck," he breathes. "And right in front of the kid too. Filthy exhibitionist."
Bro cups the back of his head and tilts the dude's face to his for another chaste kiss. Nightmare Dude twines his fingers with Bro's other hand. The whole scene is becoming uncomfortably tender, as if you've stumbled across two virginal lovers embarking upon their first shy foray into the gardens of pleasure.
"Ok, ok, I get it," you say awkwardly. "No prostitution goin' on here. It's just, I never knew my Bro was, you know. Like that."
Bro stills. "Like what," he asks flatly.
Flustered, you wave your hands to indicate the whole thing going on on the futon. "You know."
He turns his head and fixes you with a blank look, as if he really doesn't know.
"...gay?" you finish helplessly.
His expression doesn't change in the slightest, but you can sense the disappointment in the air, like you just failed one of his secret tests. "Labels are for beer bottles," he says.
"You don't drink beer," you reply dumbly.
"Exactly."
"Fool," Your Worst Nightmare interrupts. "Can't you see. That we are both far too manly to be faggots? We are simply two alpha males. Enjoying a mercifully bitch-free time togetherrr—ha, shit," he trails off, proclamation somewhat undermined by the gasp that slips out when Bro's hand slides under his half-tucked shirt and caresses his lats.
"Right, sure, ok, I getcha," you lie, not wanting to disagree with the dude who just two minutes ago was bragging about how he tried to kill your Bro on sight. "What's a little light tonguing between bros. Just guys bein' dudes, amirite?
"It's just," you continue, unable to stop your train of thought from barreling down the tracks, "it kinda recontextualizes some things, you know? Like, I always figured the reason Bro didn't bring any chicks around was because he didn't want to fuck up the feng shui of our man cave or maybe just didn't want a little bro hanging around cramping his style—" Nightmare Dude is starting to look pissed about the actively ongoing style-cramping, but there's no brakes on the Dave Ramble Express, so your mouth keeps motoring on, "—but now I'm thinking maybe there's other reasons la Casa de Strider has seen nary a ho in all the time I've been breathing. In fact, damn Bro, the only person I can remember you ever having over was that dude from your frat. What was his name. Danny?"
"Dennis," Bro corrects automatically. Mister Alpha Male's eyes snap to him.
"Yeah, Dennis," you say. "Cool guy. Kind of an idiot, but what can you do. Whatever happened to him, anyway? ...Wait," you interrupt yourself before Bro can reply, not that he looked like he had any intention of doing so anyway. "You didn't go to college. Ergo, you could never have been in a frat. So where did Dennis come from?"
"Who the fuck is Dennis," grates out Nightmare Dude.
"No one," says Bro. "And if my li'l bro would read the fuckin' room, he'd be able to tell this is no time to be bringing up ancient history."
So, you're not stupid. You can read the room well enough to tell that you've more than overstayed your welcome. But what with all these mad revelations going on, you're finding yourself unable to keep your thoughts from pouring out of your mouth anyway. "Ok, dude," you say, "I know I just put those pieces together literally two seconds ago, but I gotta say, maybe you should bring Dennis back? He was a moron, but at least he didn't seem like he was liable to whip out a swastika tattoo at any moment."
Nightmare Dude barks out a laugh. "You want to see a tattoo? I'll show you a tattoo." He rises to his knees and starts undoing his belt and Jesus fuckin' Christ you do not want to know where this is going.
Thank god for Bro, who finally sees fit to rein in his cuddlebuddy and grabs the dude's wrist to yank him back down into his lap. "Yeah, no, I'm drawing the line here. You are not showing my baby bro your ass tattoo before I've even had a chance to see it myself."
"Spoilsport," Nightmare Dude grumbles. "You had better make it up to me eleven times over. For ruining my fun."
"Don't I always?" Bro asks, voice tinged with something that sounds freakishly close to affection. His hands run down the dude's sides and slip under his suspenders. "And speaking of fun, I think it's high time any kids who might happen to be in the vicinity make themselves scarce. I was this close to getting Cal to finally put out before you barged in here."
You catch the edge to his voice and decide not to point out that getting home from school at the exact same time you always do hardly counts as "barging in", even though you think that would be a real fair fuckin' point.
The dude—Cal, you guess?—has no such compunctions about voicing his opinions and snaps, "Fat chance. That I would ever let you sully our depraved liaisons. With mere fornication."
Bro leans in and mutters something in his ear. You could swear you catch something about "making love", but that's a phrase you can't imagine your Bro uttering under pain of death.
Whatever he said, though, it makes Cal's whole head flush red. "Oh, fuck," he hisses. "That's nasty. You freak." He hitches himself closer in a motion that draws your attention to their laps and oh shit that's a boner in Bro's pants, just a big ol' erection only an inch and a few layers of fabric away from invading this other dude's crotch area and ok yeah, Bro was right, it is well past time for you to ollie the fuck out of here.
"Sweet yeah ok good talk," you babble. "I'd love to stay and chat but I got some sick beats lined up for urgent care in my room and it'd be downright malpractice for me to leave 'em waiting any longer. These beats are so ill I'm gonna be dead to the world mixing 'em up, so don't even try knocking 'cause I won't hear you. ...You two aren't even listening to me anymore are you. No. Ok, cool. Dave out."
With that, you all but sprint to your room, catching one last unfortunate glimpse of Bro pressing his forehead to Cal's and brushing their lips together before you get the door closed and shut the sight mercifully out.
Damn. What the fuck. Just... what the actual fuck. Your mind gets caught in a loop of replaying all the revelations of the last few minutes until Cal's impassioned screech of "OH FUCK YES. AGAIN. DO IT AGAIN!" cuts through your racing thoughts and reminds you that you need to get some headphones on, stat.
But despite what you said out there, you've never felt less inspired to mix in your life. So instead you collapse into your computer chair and slip your best pair of noise-canceling headphones over your ears. Then, once you've got your rowdiest playlist lined up with the volume cranked up to "deafen", you pull up Pesterchum to see if there's anyone online to distract you from this fresh new hell.
TG: so thats the situation
TG: my bro is defiling the futon as we speak by means of weirdly passionate sex with a now-former volcel
TT: My, what a harrowing experience.
TG: im gonna assume youre being 100% sincere because harrowing is exactly what is happening here
TG: i am currently in the process of being harrowed
TT: At least your fields will be well-plowed.
TG: not as well as that dudes
TT: Fascinating that you assume your brother is the penetrative partner in this scenario.
TG: wow would you look at that
TG: i just blacked out for a second and completely lost all memory of whatever the last thing you said to me was
TG: like this little mini episode of amnesia
TG: funny how that happens
TT: Your aversion to the mere suggestion that your brother may not conform in all ways to conventional standards of masculinity has been noted and logged.
TG: man why you gotta get into my head all the time
TG: if anything hes the one you should be psychoanalyzing
TG: its him who decided to get frisky with gun show joe right in front of his little brother
TG: im just an innocent bystander
TG: in fact
TG: ok this is gonna sound crazy but
TG: i think this might have been his way of coming out to me??
TT: You are correct: that does sound crazy.
TG: no but hear me out
TG: bro never does anything on accident
TG: that dude is crazy prepared for all eventualities
TG: he knows exactly when i get home from school
TG: got it timed down to the second to spring all his puppet traps and saw scenarios on me
TG: but this time instead of treating me to a surprise staging of muppet babies murder cult part 7
TG: he set everything up so id get an eyeful of him getting his homo on with skullface mcredpill
TG: why else would he do that if not as some sorta statement
TG: hes here hes queer hes boinking the asslord premier
TT: Dave. I would like you to pause for a moment and consider everything you know about your brother.
TT: He fills your apartment with piles of phallic plush.
TT: He openly makes his living producing homoerotic puppet shows.
TT: Have you considered that perhaps he assumed you were already aware of his proclivities?
TG: ok no look
TG: i know he does a lotta shit that seems gay to the untrained eye but i figured it was all a big joke
TG: like, ha ha, imagine if this badass ninja motherfucker was drooling for the d
TG: how was i supposed to know he was on the tier of irony where he actually means it
TT: One of these days I simply must observe the two of you together in your natural habitat. I theorize that it could lead to the discovery of a whole host of psychological syndromes hitherto unknown.
TG: yeah yeah yuk it up
TG: but if you dont think this was his grand coming out ball then what the hell do you think it was
TT: Isn't it obvious?
TT: Your brother has finally entered into a relationship serious enough to bring his beau home to meet the family.
TT: It's heartwarming, really. Please convey to him my sincerest congratulations.
TG: what
TG: no
TG: no no no
TT: I believe you mean "yes, yes, yes."
TT: You'd better start preparing for the inevitable nuptials. What do you think you'll call your brother's paramour once they're wedded?
TT: Technically he'll be your brother-in-law, but given that your brother is your guardian, I'd say his role would be closer to that of a stepfather. So perhaps something paternal would be more appropriate.
TT: I think "Daddy" has a nice ring to it, don't you?
TG: fuck ALL the way off
TG: none of that shit is happening
TG: theyre not getting married and im not calling him shit
TT: Ah, but what if they did? You can't deny that they seem quite passionate about one another.
TG: uugggghhh
TG: this blows
TG: and you know what pisses me off the most
TT: What would that be?
TG: its having to admit that asshole was right
TG: he really is my worst nightmare