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He's so small when he hatches for the second time, no longer a grub but a troll with so much potential. You're scared of him and for him, and that makes you feel really silly because he's just hatches and poses no real threat to you. But then your genetic mother swoops in to tries and pick him up, and that's it. It's all over. You're not her favorite anymore. You're second best.
It hurts to know you'll be watching her coddle him, wipe him clean and speak softly to him, ask him if he's alright.
You want to dislike him where before you hadn't, you'd grown used to sitting beside his hatch beds and talking about robotics. It… really surprises your genetic mother, and yourself, when he starts screaming as soon as she speaks and holds her hands out to him. She looks taken aback when he tries to scramble back, but then she screams when he scrambles so far that he falls down the steps.
Goodness, you knew she wasn't very bright, but really, you'd told her the stairs would end up killing him before he'd even been given a name.
But he's not dead, just crying and trying to make sounds halfway down the stairs. You walk over to the edge while your mother grips the railing and you peer down. He's split one of his horns in half and he's clutching his head, still trying to speak.
"Slow down," You say from the top of the stairs. "I'll come get you, don't move." Your voice makes him jerk his head up, big grey eyes staring at you in shock. You take a step down and then feel like stumbling when he reaches both his arms up.
"Horse!" It's not your name, but it's as close as he'll get for just learning his vocal strings and cords. You feel your wind tube tighten up and you hurry down the steps. When you get there he reaches out and clings to the front of your shirt as you pull him in. He's crying into your shirt and it should be gross but… he just keeps saying your name and clinging tighter and tighter.
You should dislike him, but you realize as your mother comes rushing down the steps that you're not second best anymore.
She may love your brother more, but he loves you just as much as she loves him.
"Can we name him Equius?" You ask, petting around the remains of his horn to sooth the headache you know he has. Your mother mutters consent, trying to coax him out of your arms. He's not having it though, so eventually she gives up.
"I'll get your father." You ignore her, and really you don't mean to, but Equius is sniffling into your shoulder. He yawns and hiccups while you reassure him that his head will stop hurting, that he can relax now. He does and falls asleep, your shirt ruined and you not caring one bit.
He's got such a strong grip, and you're going to teach him everything you can.
"You're thmothering me." You loosen your hold on your little brother's hug and look out over the park.
"Yeah buth, why don't yew wan play with tha other kith?" One day you'll get used to talking like this. It's been sweeps though, and only in your moments of utter clarity do you realize it hurts.
"Cauthe you moron, they make fun of uth." Sollux hunkers down deeper into your chest and glares at some wigglers as they run by. He hates the park for some reason, but you love it so much. There's so much to do.
"Thmile futty fangth," You tell him as your knock your horns against his. He glares at you for only a few seconds before he puts on his best face of no fucks given. "You are my bethtetht bro chacho, them odder troth don't mean thit, we got each odder, tho they can thuck my dripping bulge head. If my bro wanth to play, yew get ta play, fucking right?" Sollux snickers, already used to your 'foul language.'
"They're jutht tho thtuipd, I jutht want to thit here with you." Sollux puts his hands on yours and looks out over the grass near the swing sets.
"Kay, but what we do?" You were almost coherent that time.
"Tell me a thtory." You smile, big and happy. Before your accident you used to tell him stories all the time, watch him as he'd stare on wide-eyed and fascinated as you used your psiioniics. You don't have those anymore, and you have trouble keeping to one train of thought, but he still asks for them.
He still treats you the same, if not a watered down version. He doesn't ask you big questions like he used to, he just sits with you and asks you to tell him stories.
He's the first to jump to your aid, even though you think that might hurt you more than it hurts him. You're his big brother, it's your job to keep him safe, but here he is, three sweeps old and already one of the best psiioniics you can think of. If that counts for anything with the way that you think at least.
"I want to hear about ninjath." Sollux says. "Really cool oneth, like you." You laugh and hug him tighter until he reminds you about your grip.
"Otay lille dude, tho there wath thith group of bad fucking ath ninjaths right?" Sollux stares out and lets you ramble on. You hug him and press your face to his, and to anyone passing by they'd see your smile and Sollux's blank face.
But then they'd see his tight grip on your hands and how relaxed he was with you. How he'd add his own commentary to help you with the story when you got lost.
You might be older, but Sollux is the best 'big brother' in the world.
You buy him his very own clubs when he turns three and he tackles you into a wall all happy and singing joy. It had been a backhanded selfish thing at first, you just wanted him to stop playing with yours. He was going to break something and you didn't want his blood on any of your stuff. So you got him his own and he'd screamed happily and clung to you, you had to fight the urge to throw him off.
He ended up locking himself in his room for days at a time after that, and it was blessed at first, but then you started to miss his constant nagging. You began to miss his crying at night as he'd crawl into your coon and curl up against your side, bad headaches and noises making your little motherfucker all achy and clingy. You bought him an almost replica of your own room by that point, so maybe that was why he spent more time in there?
Your parents had just given up, grabbed their shit and left. Gamzee was uncontrollable, they told you, so much worse than you. You'd wanted to rip their faces off, but you had control. They were the idiots. He's just a kid, stop fussing over him.
It's late, and you're about to crawl into your coon when you hear a loud crash next door.
Gamzee.
You run in and he's rubbing at a gash on his arm, club pulled close as he glares at the knife on the floor and ignores the blood. You want to scream at him, ask him what the fuck he thought he was doing.
But he turns around and his face lights up like the sun.
"Bro! Bro look, look I can do it too! Just like you!" He picks up the knife, the other club on the floor, and a juggling ball. Then he… well, he starts juggling. He looks so happy, but you can see in his eyes he wants you to approve. He wants to be like you, wants you to like him.
You smile at him when he puts everything but the club you bought him down, then you extend your arms out. He runs forward and throws his arms around you, laughing and cheering.
You think you'll let him do his own paint tomorrow.
You have never seen anyone grumpier than your little brother. He's downright rude. But still, he is your brother, and as much as he embarrasses you, you will be the first to defend him. Not that the young one needs it of course, while his approach may be rude he can completely outwit someone in a verbal battle.
You pray he never, ever has to actually fight someone. Not that he isn't strong, or that you think violence is utterly pointless, but you… you're scared for him. If he got hurt in any way…
Well, you might just end up using a spot of violence to protect him. He's a headstrong troll, and he's loud and obnoxious and hates his blood color, which is very rude of him, but…
Karkat is your little brother. Far be it that you shirk your duty as his sibling and ever in your life or death stop loving him. He begrudgingly lets you take him places, complaining the entire time, but later when you're both in your hive he thanks you and runs.
Sometimes he'll crawl into your coon at night, but neither of you speak of it. It's not a topic he wants touched, so you don't. He'll sit and listen to you, sometimes debate with you, and you both end up frustrated but enlightened. There isn't much you'd change, save his attitude…
Well, actually no. You wouldn't change that at all.
Karkat wouldn't be Karkat if he wasn't a noisy little pain in the rear.
And you love the insides out of him.
You are fucking stupid as shit. This is all your fault and you're going to beat the shit out of yourself. "Stop, I'm fine." Eridan whines as you sit him on the bathroom counter. He's not though, and it's your fault!
"You shouldn't hawve been out there!" You say as you wipe the blood off his face. "Don't ewver get into fights! Vwhat would hawve happened if you'd actually been hurt, a serious injury, not just this?" You smear blood from the cut on his face onto your finger and show it to him.
"I'm fine." Eridan grumbles, crossing his arms and looking away as you sigh and go back to cleaning his cut.
"You ain't, I never shoulda let you out after you saw my face. I shoulda stayed out of your sight and newver gotten into a fight. Novw you're out there picking your own scraps?" You grab the Band-Aid strips and Eridan rolls his eyes.
"Yeah, like you getting beat up is w-why I got into a fight." He says as you press a strip to his face. He'll need two.
"Oh, then why did you pick that fight with that Serket girl?" You ask him. Eridan huffs and his fins puff out, arms crossed and eyes glaring as you put the last strip across his face.
"Cause she said you w-were nothing but a loser and that ain't true!" His voice begins to rise as he goes on and you stare at him, flabbergasted. "You're not a loser, you're the coolest guy I know-w, and you're the strongest, and brav-vest and you just… you're aw-wesome and no one can conv-vince me otherw-wise!" He throws his fists down to his side and huffs again. "No one talks about you like that and gets aw-way w-with it!"
You blink at him and try to hold in a laugh, but it doesn't work. He tries to tell you to stop it, but you just pull him into a hug and laugh. He clings to you, hugging back. "I'm so proud of you." You whisper. He squeaks and you know he's blushing, but you don't care. "So very proud, but…" You pull back and poke him in his chest. "Next time you get into a fight, you better not loose to a girl."
"I w-won't." He says.
"And don't get into anymore fights." He smiles and you smile back. "Alright squirt, let's get you ice cream."
"I'm not a squirt, Cronus." But he is, Eridan is your squirt, and you really do love him.
"Alright little man," You point at the movie case and Tavros stares at it. "What do you want to watch?" He blinks and reaches out, clutching your leg.
"Can I really pick?" He asks, blushing. You smile and nod at him, ruffling his hawk. Your big kid movies are on the other shelf anyway.
"Whatever you want little bro, you're sick, so we'll stay up and watch a movie to make you feel better." Movies put Tavros to sleep. You're smarter than the average troll and know the promise of staying up all night knocks a wiggler out cold.
Tavros swallows and points at the top shelf, hiding behind your leg. You know the movie, even if the point was vague. "Oh man, I love that one bro, you go crawl in the slime and we'll put it on." He smiles and nods.
Pupa Pan.
You both love this movie, you probably love it more than he does, but then again you never know. You put the movie on and crawl in next to Tavros as he yawns, sitting awkwardly because of his horns.
"Tired, little man?" You ask him as you stretch your wings out, one around his shoulder.
"No, I'm not… tired." He blushes and pulls his blanket close. You had to go through a lot of trouble to get one that sopor would roll off of, but you don't regret it for a second. Anything for your little brother, just as long as you know he's smiling.