Work Text:
Spending the evening rewiring the computer lab at the local community college wasn't really how Dirk saw his Friday going. But here he is, cable crimper in hand and an almost-spent spool of CAT5 at his side. The benefits far outweigh the cons. He gets a free day off work for volunteering, and while it's fairly menial work, Dirk doesn't mind it so much. Not that he'd admit to it, but there's something soothing in the mindless repetition. Is this what grandmas feel like when they do their knitting? Must be.
However, it also gives him time and space to think, which isn't always a good thing.
Today's litany includes how it's kind of really fucking pathetic that all his friends went off to live grand lives outside of this shitty small town, and here he is. Doing jack-all with his life.
Dave is in LA, successfully working his way into the Hollywood scene. Roxy's off at MIT, getting her doctorate, while Jane works at a nearby upscale bakery, just to be close to her. Rose is touring the country for the release of her fourth book. Jake is backpacking around Europe for the third time, while Jade is in Australia on some sort of botany research expedition.
And John... well, Dirk doesn't really know too much about what's been going on in John's life. He tries to stay out of the loop as much as possible, because he doesn't like the feeling he gets when he's reminded of everything he could have had, if he wasn't such a self-effacing coward. All Dirk knows is that John fell in love, moved away, and had a kid. And that's all he cares to know.
But now, against his will, he also hears that John is back in town. For what reason, Dirk has no idea—especially considering he's been dodging John's texts and calls for the past several weeks. He knows John probably just wants to say hello, get coffee, introduce him to the fam. Maybe they have another kid by now. He did always seem like the two kids, picket fence kind of guy.
Mercifully, Dirk doesn't have time to dwell on it too long. His alarm goes off to remind him that the building is going to lock up soon, so he'd better get his ass out unless he wants to be sleeping under the desks. He did that enough during undergrad, he's not keen to repeat the experience. He tidies up and leaves a note for Monday, that he'll come back to finish the job, shoulders the messenger bag with his laptop and other necessities inside, and locks the door on his way out of the computer lab.
The side door he tries is already locked, and if he had to hazard a guess, so are the others. The only open doors right now would be the main doors, which are the exact opposite end of the building he wants to be on. Damn it.
Hurrying towards the forward lobby, Dirk spots a couple people milling about when he arrives, chatting quietly amongst themselves. He vaguely wonders what they're there for, but not nearly enough to stop and ask.
And then he spots John.
Go fucking figure.
It's about then that John spots him, too, and the way his face lights up makes Dirk's stomach tie itself into a Gordian knot. Despite the polo shirt tucked into his sad beige khakis, he hasn't lost that stupid, dopey, adorable-as-fuck grin.
"Dirk!" John does that awkward half-jog to close the distance, while Dirk just tilts his chin in greeting. "Hey buddy! Never thought I'd run into you here! I've been trying to text you, did you change your number or something?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah. Couple months ago. Didn't know you were back in town," Dirk lies through his teeth, and makes a mental note to get a new number.
"Yep, moved back about... oh, two or three months ago. You know, I kind of missed it out here?"
But you didn't miss me, Dirk wisely decides not to say. It just seems like a foregone conclusion, and there's no need to rub anyone's nose in it. Instead, he starts in on the obligatory small talk.
"Yep. So. How're the wife and kiddo? Are they liking it out here?"
"Oh, uh, Harry's doing great," John starts with a stutter, getting an eyebrow raise out of Dirk. "Yeah, he's a good kid, he's already made a bunch of friends. He's a teenager now, you know. They shoot up like weeds, I tell you!" John shuffles awkwardly. "There's no wife anymore though. She, uh. Decided being a mom wasn't for her when Harry was three? Maybe four? Ran off with some guy in a Ferrari. But it's not all bad! It was an easy divorce, as far as those things go. And we settled custody outside of court so no problems there. She's not really interested in seeing him anyway, but... the option's always open, you know? I can't deny a kid his mom."
There's a smile on John's face that doesn't quite reach his eyes, and certainly isn't echoed in his voice. He sounds shaky, uncertain, like he's rehearsed these lines again and again, carefully constructed to minimize any anguish it might bring whoever he's talking to, and now he's trying to recite them for Dirk.
Dirk realizes he's seen that smile on John before. He never had the right context for it, assumed it was a Weird Egbert Thing, and he was a bit too self-absorbed at the tender age of 18 to think much about it. Now, Dirk recognizes the deep well of sorrow that John is trying to hide behind a chipper attitude and forced optimism. That kind of smile isn't something you cultivate easily: John has worked at this for a long time. Dirk hides his own behind a mask of stoicism, apathy, and witty quips. But those are superficial differences.
He's learned a lot more about John than his kid's name and his estranged wife.
More importantly, he never knew John was even capable of feeling sad. He always came across as this perpetually happy puppy dog kind of guy. And in a weird way, Dirk feels... relieved. It sounds awful in his head, but he's glad to know he's not the only miserable one.
Still, what do you even say to all of that?
Nothing. Nothing is what you say, and nothing is what Dirk says, choosing instead to redirect, to avoid an uncomfortable topic.
"What brings you to these prestigious halls of academia, then?"
"Oh, Harry takes guitar lessons here every Friday." John perks up immediately, glad to have the topic turned away from his ex-wife. "He's getting really good now. I don't even hate listening to him practice anymore."
Dirk snorts. "Now you know how your dad felt when they made us bring those stupid plastic flutes home."
"Ugh, don't remind me!"
The double doors in front of them open and a couple kids come shuffling out. Dirk knows in a split second which one of them is John's. The messy mop of dark hair and those bright blue eyes give him away immediately.
The kid jogs over to them, looking at Dirk first, then to his dad, expectantly.
"Harry, I'd like you to meet a friend of mine," John says with a gesture. "You remember Dave, right? This is his brother, Dirk."
"Oh! Hey." His innocent smile falters for a second, like he's trying not to laugh about something. "Are you the guy my dad has a picture of in his sock drawer?"
The Egbert genes run strong with this child.
"Harry!" John scolds, even as his cheeks tint red, and then turns to Dirk. "It's that photo of us when we went to Yellowstone on Spring Break. It's a good picture! Lots of good memories. I keep it in the sock drawer because prying eyes like to nose around in my stuff. But it seems not even my socks are safe!"
There's no real ire in John's voice, and he ruffles his son's hair, who laughs and bounds off towards the doors. John vaguely aims the key fob over his shoulder, presumably unlocking the car so the kid can get his stuff and himself in. Dirk wants to ask about the picture, but words refuse to travel from his brain to his mouth. Why would John have a picture of the two of them? Surely, he had pictures of himself with Dave or Jake, or all four of them as a group. Maybe those just got lost somewhere along the way.
"Well." John turns to Dirk. "I guess this is it. But it was nice catching up, we should do this again sometime! You still have my email, right? It hasn't changed since I was 14, so..."
"Yeah. I still got it."
There's an awkward silence where neither seems to know what to do with themselves, before John half-turns away and raises as hand goodbye.
"Right. Uhm. Take care, Dirk. Catch you around?"
"Yeah. You too."
Dirk stands there, mentally chastising himself for not doing something more. But what does he have to offer John and his son? A messy bachelor pad barely fit for adults, let alone children? No. John deserves better than that, so Dirk makes his way outside and heads for... somewhere. He's not sure yet. Not home, though.
Sliding into the driver's seat, John grips the wheel and takes a few steadying breaths, staring out across the parking lot and pointedly trying to avoid catching Dirk's receding back in the corner of his eye. He must have been sitting there a lot longer than he realized, because a quiet voice pipes up beside him.
"Um. Hey dad? Are you okay?"
Harry's gentle concern snaps John out of his spiraling thoughts, and John tries valiantly to slap on his best fatherly countenance. He'll never be as good at it as his dad is.
"Yes, perfectly fine! Nothing to worry about, buddy, it was just—"
Unexpected. Thrilling. Heartbreaking. John wishes he'd said something more. Maybe he would have if his son wasn't standing right next to him. But even when they had a moment alone—
John's thoughts are interrupted by a long-suffering sigh. "Just ask him to come to dinner!"
As much as John wants to protest, he realizes that his baby boy is becoming an empathetic and observant young man, and for a moment, it fills him with pride. But then he has to address the matter at hand.
"Oh, I don't know, I'm sure he's a busy guy!" John slots the key into the ignition and starts the car, pulling on his seatbelt. "I wouldn't really want to bother him."
John has already put the car in drive and has his attention forward when he hears Harry's head thud against the headrest.
"Daaaaad," Harry whines, "You're doing it again!"
"Doing what?"
"You do this every time! As soon as you think you might like someone even a little bit, you start finding excuses to not hang out with them!"
John laughs weakly, surprised at how concerned his son is for his father's social life. But he has a point. John hasn't made many friends outside of work since his wife left, and dating has been so far off the table, it's probably in Antarctica. Not that he's considering dating Dirk, of course, just a general thought that occurs to him for absolutely no reason whatsoever.
...okay, who is he kidding? Not himself, that's for sure. He hasn't been trying to get in touch with Dirk daily just for giggles. He's missed a lot of things about his hometown, but he thinks he's missed Dirk the most. The thought ties like a knot in his chest, tightening around his heart, so he forces out a laugh to try and loosen it.
"I am being bullied by my own son," John sighs with a lopsided smirk. "Tell you what, if we can catch up to him, then I'll invite him."
It turns out to be easier than John expected, which ruins his plans to avoid the situation altogether. He was hoping Dirk would be long gone, but he hasn't even hit the street yet, still meandering through the parking lot. Well... here goes nothing. Rolling down the window, John pulls up alongside Dirk.
"Hey, so, I was thinking," John starts, as Dirk stops, turns, and stares at him blankly, "Maybe if you're not busy, you'd like to come back to our place for dinner? It's spaghetti night, and we always have more leftovers than we know what to do with, so we'll have plenty..."
The offer catches Dirk off guard, and he looks between John, who's giving him a hopeful but still dopey smile, and Harry, who's leaning around his dad's shoulder and grinning like some sort of devil child. Dirk didn't doubt Harry's parentage one bit, but if he had, that would be all the proof he needed. He's not sure what that kid did, but he gathers it has something to do with making John ask him to dinner.
"Sure," Dirk shrugs, the words leaving his mouth beyond his control. So now they want to come out. Figures. "Why not?"
"Alright, then... hop in!"
Sliding into the back seat, Dirk wonders what the hell he's getting himself into. He's been guilty of some epic self-flagellation in his time, but this seems like a new low. Whatever. It's fine. He'll have dinner, make some more obnoxious small talk, then bail as soon as humanly possible.
John's house is every bit as welcoming as Dirk remembers it being. John explained on the car ride over that Mr. Egbert had decided to retire to Southern California, and had offered the house to John, who took it as a sign that he should move back home. Dirk is already reading between the lines, though: that John didn't really want to move home, so much as he wanted to move away from wherever he was before, and this was just a good opportunity for that.
Once Harry has put away his guitar and John has changed out of his work clothes, they all congregate in the kitchen. Father and son seem to know exactly what to do, one filling a pot with water, the other gathering various canned tomato goods and emptying them into a saucepan. Dirk tries to make himself useful by rinsing out the cans to be put in recycling but finds that he's little more than a hindrance, giving literal meaning to the phrase too many cooks. At least, that's how he sees it, so he instead seats himself at the dining table, feeling like a useless lump as he interjects various "uh-huhs" and "yeahs?". John rambles on about the move out here and the setbacks they faced, with assorted interjections from Harry. When John glances over, Dirk tries to pretend that he wasn't staring.
At some point, there's nothing left for Harry to do, so he comes and sits across from Dirk, leaving John to tend the sauce on the stove. Their eyes meet and it's almost like looking back into the past. Dirk wishes he'd said something back then, wishes he could say something now. But he didn't back then, so there's no way he could now.
"Oh! Shoot, I forgot something in the car!" John says suddenly, head snapping towards the door. "Can you both watch the sauce and make sure it doesn't burn?"
John doesn't wait for a response, and Dirk is left sitting at the table with Harry, who pulls his legs up onto the chair and stares over his knees at Dirk expectantly. Dirk realizes that he has no idea what to even do with a child. Or what to say to them.
"Dad doesn't look at other people the way he looks at you," Harry volunteers, before Dirk can think of anything child-appropriate to say.
"Oh yeah?" That gets a curious eyebrow raise from Dirk, who wasn't expecting anything like that out of the kid. "What way is that?"
Harry shrugs, head tilting onto his shoulder. "I dunno. I just think he's really happy to see you again. He talks about you a lot since we moved. I don't think he thinks he does, but he does."
Dirk doesn't know how to respond to that; or rather he does, but he's not about to tell the kid that he's surprised, because he's had a big fat crush on his dad for longer than he's been alive, and nothing ever came of it. So why now?
Unwittingly, John rescues Dirk by choosing that moment to return, a loaf of bread held triumphantly in one hand and a shopping bag in the other.
"I got stuff for garlic bread!"
Dinner otherwise proceeds smoothly and just about how you'd expect dinner between two old friends to go. Well, two old friends, and one of their progeny. Dirk manages to keep up the casual conversation until something turns Harry onto some big thing going on in his new friend group, and the rest of dinner discussion becomes that. Dirk is relieved. He wasn't sure how much more he had in him, especially because he's trying to be polite in front of John's kid and keep the swears and inappropriate commentary to a minimum. He knows full well what high school kids talk about; it's less for Harry's sake, and more for John's.
Cleanup is quick with John washing the dishes, Dirk drying them, and Harry putting them away, but as they get to the last plate, Dirk wonders... what now? Is this his cue to leave? John invited him for dinner. He came over. He had dinner.
They make their way out to the living room, and before Dirk can dismiss himself, Harry interjects.
"Hey dad, can I go play games before bed?"
John laughs. "Sure thing, bud. Just don't stay up too late."
"I won't!" Harry gives his father the kind of hug only a son can give, then turns to Dirk with an expectant look. "It was nice meeting you! I hope you come over again."
Dirk is so flummoxed that he can't summon much more than a shallow nod, and holds his fist up, which Harry meets with an enthusiastic fist bump, before booking it upstairs. Thank god the kid wasn't trying to coerce a hug out of him. All the same, Dirk is left staring at the spot where he stood while John chuckles softly.
"You two seem to get along," John remarks, and goes on before Dirk can comment. "Do you have anywhere to be? I was just thinking... maybe you'd like to hang around for a while? We can do some 'grown up' talking, and I think I have a bottle of wine somewhere if you're interested... is red okay?"
There's a pause, not where Dirk has to think about his answer, because he immediately knows the answer is yes. It just takes a moment for him to muster up the words. "Yeah. That'd be nice."
Dirk always thought these adult hangout sessions were just a thing you saw on TV, that never really happened in real life. His Bro certainly never had anyone over to the apartment, and Dirk has unfortunately picked up that habit. But here he is, sat on John's couch with a glass of red wine cradled in one hand, and making sure he keeps a respectable couch cushion between them.
Talking to John is easy. Too easy. It doesn't take long for Dirk to slide into comfortable conversation, which has nothing to do with the wine, and everything to do with John's... everything. That's always been John's superpower: making Dirk relax. Dirk has long thought about the efficacy of John's methods, and long ago concluded that John doesn't have a method. He's not trying to get Dirk to do anything. He just talks with complete disregard for Dirk's discomfort, and the ironic thing is that it works.
"Hey, Dirk?"
The momentary lull in the conversation was giving Dirk a little too much time to think, but now the hesitation in John's voice catches him off-guard. They had just been reminiscing about their high school days, and John had seemed cheerful enough. But now he seems unsettled.
"Yeah? Sup?"
"I... there's something I've been wanting to tell you. Ever since I moved back, actually." Dirk just tilts his head slightly to indicate that he's listening and doesn't give any indication that he's now thinking over and over-thinking all the unanswered texts John sent him. "Jeez. This is weird... Don't get the wrong idea, okay? It's been nice catching up with you. Really nice, actually. And you and Harry seem to get along well, so it's..."
"Get on with it, Egbert."
John tries and fails to study Dirk's face for even the vaguest hint of what he's thinking in that moment. He never could when they were teenagers; he stands even less of a chance now that Dirk has had a decade and a half to perfect the craft of being a totally cool dude who never shows any emotion. Their eyes meet, and John has a moment to appreciate just how pretty Dirk's are, without the lenses of his weird anime shades getting in the way. He can also appreciate that there's something behind them. Something... tender, or vulnerable.
"Okay, I just have to say it," John says, taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly. "I used to have a huge crush on you in high school! There. There, I said it. Whew. That actually feels better! Like I said, don't get the wrong idea, that's not why I invited you over or anything creepy like that, and—is everything okay?"
John notices a crack in the traditional Strider stoicism, just the slightest furrowing of Dirk's brow. It's enough to make John's heart start racing, like he might have just ruined everything.
"When did you stop?" Dirk says after a long pause, during which the pit of his stomach bottoms out and threatens to eject all that delicious pseudo-Italian food.
That... was not what John was expecting. Best case scenario was that they would laugh it off as some dumb kid thing. Even though it might still be a dumb adult thing for him.
"Huh?" is all John can say, rendered unintelligible by his brain working overtime trying to figure out Dirk's question. He's not particularly eloquent on the best of days; right now, it's a wonder he can get any words out at all. The intense stare down he's receiving isn't helping.
"I said, when did you stop?" Dirk shifts closer. "Because I never did."
"Oh. Well," John starts slowly, setting down his glass. Dirk does the same. "What if I didn't either?"
There's a heavy pause, with John looking up at Dirk with those beautiful blue eyes, and Dirk can't hold himself back. All it takes is the barest brush of his fingers against John's cheek, and John melts into him, shifting closer and sliding his arms around Dirk's shoulders as they come together. Dirk's arms loop around his waist, and with every slow and steady exhale, John feels Dirk's breath caressing his lips and cheek. They linger like that, getting comfortable in each other, warming up in each other's embrace. They don't kiss, they don't say anything. They just exist.
John pulls away first, but he doesn't go far, their noses bumping and lips just barely brushing with the slightest of movements. "So... now what?"
"I don't know. Feels a little juvenile to ask you to be my boyfriend."
"Then don't ask me to be your boyfriend. Kiss me and we'll figure out what to call it later."
Dirk is all too happy to oblige, pulling John fully into his lap. His hands run up John's back and neck and fingers tangle in soft, dark, perpetually-tousled hair. With little coaxing, John is pulled in closer, and their lips meet in a shy kiss, not unlike the kind they might have shared when they were younger. It's sweet and soft and innocent, and Dirk is so warm, and John's weight is so comforting, and once again they pause to bask in it.
"Are we good to stay down here?" Dirk murmurs against John's lips, only breaking away enough to ask the question. "I don't want to end up scarring a kid for life. Not your kid, anyway."
John gives a breathy laugh, kissing at the corners of Dirk's lips. "He's probably upstairs playing Mario Kart with his friends. We're good."
"Kids these days are still playing Mario Kart?"
"Mhm," John hums, trying to chase down more kisses.
"Damn."
And Dirk readily indulges him, and allows himself to indulge. He doesn't deserve this, not really, and John is going to realize that at some point. So, he tries not to think about it too hard, but he knows he has to be careful. He can't go commandeering the relationship like all his other failed romances; down that path lies nothing but pain and loneliness. Then again, John always was pretty adept at keeping him in line without even realizing it. Dirk probably wouldn't be sitting there with a lapful of Egbert, if there wasn't a glimmer of hope. But he knows not to get hung up on hopes. All he can do is enjoy this while it lasts, and try to play his cards right.
They slowly graduate from high school kisses under the bleachers to college kisses at the frat house after a rager.
John is just happy to have someone. To feel them, to have his hands on them, to have their hands on him. To feel like he matters to someone in this world, besides his immediate family. It's been a lonely several years wherein John wandered aimlessly, half-heartedly trying dating apps and singles meet ups, but never quite feeling that spark of connection, the one he feels right now. The way Dirk touches him is nigh on reverent, or like someone handling a delicate antique. It's sweet. He's just not sure how long this will last. He never thought of Dirk as the kind of guy who likes being around kids all that often, and surely, he doesn't want to be tied down, just like that.
It's only while John is busy sucking a bruise into the skin just underneath the collar of his shirt that Dirk feels as though he's being watched. Glancing over John's shoulder, he confirms that suspicion: standing halfway down the stairs is Harry, a hand over his mouth and from the way his face is scrunched up, he's trying not to laugh and/or be grossed out. Dirk shoots him a wink, and he goes scampering back up the stairs. Smart kid.
Even so, Dirk takes a moment to ease John back and presses their foreheads together, giving him an affectionate nuzzle.
"Hey. You're a great dad."
"Huh?" John is thrown off by the non-sequitur, clueless as to the exchange that occurred literally behind his back. "You think so? How do you know?"
"Because you've got a great kid."
"Heh. Can't argue there." Dirk seems to be satisfied with that response and starts planting featherlight kisses down John's neck. But despite all his internal turmoil over whether or not Dirk likes kids, this is as perfect of an opening as he's going to get. "...you know, you could see him more often if you drop by every once in a while."
That gives Dirk pause, and he looks back up, staring into John's eyes. John's just smiling softly, a real smile this time, not that pathetic forced smile from earlier. That's the only smile Dirk ever wants to see. When John brings his hands up to cup Dirk's cheeks, Dirk turns his head to kiss at his palm. Soft, warm fingers run over his cheekbones, and he inhales deeply, letting it out slowly.
"Yeah. Alright. I'd like that."
Dirk was wrong, as unfathomable as that might be. He thought he wasn't heading for home, but that might just be where he ended up.