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Dave had never been a big fan of birthdays.
They were fine when they were for other people. Picking out a gift for a friend that he knew they would love was incredibly satisfying, and he liked seeing how happy his friends were when it was time to celebrate them. For himself, though, birthdays were never his favorite. Bro never made a big deal of their shared birthday, but there were a few rules that every birthday followed which should have made them the best day of the year.
First: there were no strifes on birthdays. Any other day of the year was fair game for strifing, even Christmas, but Dave’s birthday was completely off limits. Even pranks were mostly banned—not that Bro could disable all of his traps just for one day, but it seemed like he always removed a lot of them the night before and put them back the night after while Dave was asleep, because he could count on one hand the number of times he’d been touched by a sword or smuppet on his big day.
Second: Dave got one gift. It was always a big gift, something significant that Dave would use for years to come. His gaming console was a birthday gift, as were his turntables and his camera. With Christmas so soon after his birthday, it made sense that Bro wouldn't want to spoil him with two many gifts within a single month, but Dave’s birthday gifts were usually nice enough to spoil him anyway.
Third: Dave wasn't allowed to buy Bro any gifts. He could make him something, but spending money on Bro was a no go. Bro always insisted that he would buy himself anything that he wanted, so it would be silly for Dave to take money that Bro earned to buy him something that he didn't need.
Fourth: Bro never worked on Dave’s birthday, and they always ate dinner together. Shitty takeout in the apartment it might have been, but Dave got to pick the restaurant and he almost never got to eat with Bro because of his DJing schedule, so spending so much time with Bro was a novelty that Dave couldn't help but look forward to in the weeks leading up to his birthday every year.
Despite all of that, Dave couldn't love his birthday. Something about it made him anxious. Perhaps it was the fact that, for the longest time, he was convinced that Bro would kick him out the second he turned eighteen. It’s not like Dave contributed anything to their household, and Bro was a reluctant guardian who’d been conscripted into the job when their parents died shortly after Dave was born, so it would have made sense for him to get rid of Dave as soon as he was legally allowed.
The entirety of his eighteenth, Dave was coiled tight as a bowstring, ready for Bro to say the damning words. Every time Bro spoke, Dave was waiting for a “get out” that never came. Bro must have noticed something was wrong, though he clearly couldn't tell what, because he sent Dave to bed early that night with a light punch to his shoulder, muttering something that sounded vaguely like concern about Dave getting sick.
His nineteenth birthday had been better, a much more normal celebration, but despite that, Dave was still on edge when he reached the front door the evening of his twentieth. His classes that day were pretty busy—Dave enjoyed the photography program at UH, but finals were coming up in a week so it was crunch time. On top of his photography and music classes, Dave was taking a chem course and a business math course to get some gen ed requirements out of the way, and he wasn't looking forward to the final exam in either class.
John and Jade had wanted to go out to celebrate Dave’s birthday on the day of, but he’d put them off until the weekend after finals. As much as he loved his friends, he didn't want to disrupt his and Bro’s routine, no matter how nervous he was that this would finally be the year Bro got sick of him. Rose had rolled her eyes at Dave when she saw him in the quad that afternoon during the gap they had put into their schedules for lunch, but she kept her psychoanalysis to a minimum, which Dave appreciated. He didn't need her picking his brain, trying to figure out why his birthday always made him so anxious.
Toeing off his shoes and making his way into the living room, Dave immediately noticed Bro on the futon, Mad Snacks Yo already booted up on the TV in front of him.
“Yo. D’your teachers take it easy on you for your birthday?” As Dave flopped next to Bro on the futon, careful to leave a fair bit of distance between them, Bro reached over and ruffled his hair. Dave had to fight to control the flush that tried to rise on his face, thankful that his glasses obscured how his eyes must have widened at the physical touch.
When Dave was a kid, Bro rarely touched him outside of strifing and roughhousing unless Dave was sick or injured. The last couple of years, Bro had been more free with the physicality, but Dave still had to stop himself from gasping every time he felt that brush of skin on skin. Men weren't affectionate with one another like that unless their name was John Egbert and they were a weirdo, so Dave didn't know what Bro’s deal was, but he was too afraid that Bro would stop if he asked about it.
He was also worried that Bro would beat his ass if Dave said anything about it, because talking about it would make it obvious just how much Dave craved more.
Kicking his feet up on the table and grabbing the second controller, Dave forced a nonchalant smirk. “The faculty evidently decided that Dave Strider’s birthday was not enough of a national holiday to make them chill the hell out for a day with finals so close, which is practically criminal of them. First thing I’ll do when I get into office is get that shit put on the calendar specifically for schools. National relaxation day with Dave Strider’s birthday after it in parenthesis like they do with Presidents’ Day and George Washington. Which is weird. They should really commit to it one way or the other. Either call it a general holiday or list the names of the guys whose birthdays we’re meant to be celebrating.”
“You running for office now, little man?” Bro tilted his head and offered Dave the smallest questioning smirk, loading up one of the multiplayer levels as the screen split down the middle, Dave’s character on the left and Bro’s character on the right.
“I could. Gotta make some politician friends first, I think. Surely my photography will get me connected with the right people once I graduate. From taking shots of people’s babies and dogs to filming all kinds of political documentaries. Or maybe just taking pictures of the first dogs. I could meet Obama that way. It’d be an epic friendship from first fist bump. Then he’d back my campaign and I’d be a shoo-in for the head honcho position.” Dave was the best at multitasking. While he rambled, he got all kinds of sick combos on screen. Glancing to the right, Dave noticed that Bro had a higher score, but only barely. Surely if he focused, he could win.
Of course, Bro had to laugh, disrupting Dave’s concentration. His character immediately fell off the pipe and clipped into the ground, and Dave cursed as he spammed inputs to attempts to undo the disaster occurring on screen.
“What, you think I couldn't do it?” Dave shot Bro a glare through his shades as he maneuvered his character out of the floor and onto a ramp.
Bro bumped their shoulders together, nearly fucking up Dave's focus again, but he wouldn't be so easily led astray a second time. “Nah, I reckon you'd do a good job. Just thinkin’ about how the masses’d like a president with a porn master DJ as a big bro. Is there a First Lady position for bros? You might need to get rid of me pretty far ahead of time if there is. Wouldn't want to mess up your campaign.”
The thought of getting rid of Bro makes a lead weight sink in Dave’s gut. He knows that Bro is just kidding, but he wouldn't give Bro up for anything. It's not like Dave had any real political aspirations anyway—if anything, he’d want to be a professional photographer or cinematographer, maybe a movie director if some idea caught his fancy—but if being around Bro would hurt his chances at Dave’s dreams, he’d give them up in a heartbeat.
“No way, man,” Dave scoffed, returning Bro’s shoulder bump with a little too much strength in his desperation to remain chill. “If the White House can't handle both Strider brothers, it can't handle either. Besides, if First Bro isn't already a title, it certainly should be. You could just be my first lady until we get the new name plate all sorted, though. I’m sure you could pull off those business suits and pencil skirts all the powerful political women are wearing.”
Wait.
What did Dave just say?
Fuck.
Unfortunately, his timing couldn't have been worse, as the timer expired and the “You Win” banner appeared on Bro’s side of the screen. Ever so slowly, Dave let his eyes slide over to the man next to him, curious if he could discern anything from Bro’s trademark expressionless face. Usually there wasn't too much to go off of, but sometimes Bro’s shoulders twitched up when he was really angry, so Dave could at least check for that.
When his eyes reached Bro, however, there were no signs of anger. Bro was leaning back against the arm of the futon, casual as could be as he stared in Dave’s direction. If anything, he looked curious, brows raised a bit above his shades, head tilted to the side.
“You think so? I think they'd look better on you. My thighs’d burst through the hosiery in an hour flat, but you’ve got the figure for it.” Even through the shades, Dave could feel the heat of Bro’s eyes raking up and down his figure.
So this was the game they were playing? Bro was going to ironically flirt with Dave so he could pretend that Dave’s comments weren't serious either? Dave could work with that, probably. It was likely better than whatever reaction Dave would get if Bro found out that Dave was gay and actually wanted to climb him like a tree, at least. Not that Dave was sure that Bro was homophobic—it’d be pretty weird for a guy who makes puppet porn to be disgusted by two men together—but he’d never heard Bro confirm one way or the other, so it was better to err on the side of caution rather than give Bro an opening for mockery.
“Maybe I’ll ask Rose if she can yank something from Momlonde’s closet for me to try. She’s a classy lady, I'm sure she’s got something a First Lady would wear.” Dave pulled out his phone as if to text Rose that very moment. He wouldn’t, of course. Rose could never know about this conversation.
Before Dave could so much as pretend to pull up pesterchum, however, Bro knocked the phone out of his hand. Dave stared as it skidded across the floor until it hit the TV stand, holding his breath as he turned back towards his brother. Surely that hadn’t been the straw that broke the camel’s back. There was no way Bro would kick Dave out over a joke about crossdressing that Bro had egged on in the first place.
“If you want a dress, I'll buy you one as an extra birthday gift. No need for you to bother anyone else about it.” Bro was close. He’d leaned forward to swat at Dave's phone and hadn't yet relaxed back into his original position. From here, Dave could barely see a hint of the vibrant orange of Bro’s eyes over the top of his shades.
Dave swallowed hard, feeling his throat click with nerves. “I dunno, man, maybe a dress isn't what I want for my birthday.”
Unfortunately for Dave, rather than pull back, Bro only leaned closer. “And what do you want for your birthday then, little boy? Do you need to sit on Santa’s lap and read off your list?”
Dave nodded, terror making him stiff as a board. He was becoming less sure about how far this conversation could go under its ironic veneer by the minute, though evidently the answer was still further, as between one moment and the next he was suddenly in Bro’s lap. The yelp that escaped through Dave’s lips was completely unintentional and he would never admit to making such a sound if pressed. He also wouldn't own up to grabbing Bro’s shoulders to steady himself, clinging as if he could prevent himself from being removed if Bro tried to throw him off.
“Ho ho ho. Go ahead, then. Tell Santa what it is you want.” Bro was completely deadpan as he all but whispered the words in Dave’s ear.
Dave hadn't thought this through. He should have kept his mouth shut. He wasn’t even sure how this started anymore. There was no sequence of events he could conceive of that made sense for Bro to have pulled Dave into his lap to whisper in his ear. It was like something out of Dave’s wet dreams, his most secret fantasies. Unable to separate what must be a hallucination from reality, Dave could only utter a single word.
“You.”
The kiss both was and wasn't a surprise. It was what Dave was angling for, of course, but he didn't actually think Bro would go for it. Surely any game of gay chicken had to be called off whenever someone crossed the line into kissing. Especially an incestuous game of gay chicken.
“You’ve already got that,” Bro murmured, giving Dave’s bottom lip a gentle nip as he pulled back. From the way his arms boxed Dave in, preventing him from doing much more than squirm in place, it was obvious that he wanted more, wanted to be harsh and pin Dave down, but perhaps the no roughhousing on birthdays rule extended to roughness in bed.
Rather than respond to that, Dave burst into tears. The sobs were shaking his entire body within seconds, and Dave knew that it was only a matter of time before snot started to slide down his face. Dave was an ugly crier, and it was a blessing that he couldn't remember the last time he cried in front of someone else. The last time was probably in front of Bro too, though, maybe when Dave was a little kid and got injured during a strife.
Just like then, Bro clutched Dave to his chest, shushing him and stroking his hair as he rocked gently back and forth. Dave remembered Bro telling him not to show weakness in front of anyone else when he was young, and he knew that crying was the ultimate display of weakness. Even if Bro had wanted to kiss Dave before, surely he was disgusted with him now. He’d realize that Dave was still weak and pathetic and that all of his lessons hadn't stuck and that Dave wasn’t worth keeping around. Dave felt like he was having an out of body experience. He could feel that Bro was talking to him, but all Dave could hear was static. All he could feel was his shakes and the wetness on his face and the stupidly gentle hand in his hair. Nothing else could penetrate the fog of panic.
Slowly, after what felt like hours of tears, Bro’s words started to filter through the mess in Dave’s brain. “Davey, it’s okay, man. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t’ve done that. It’s my fault. Don't cry. Please.”
It must have been the please that did it. Dave choked on a breath, looking up and blinking in shock when he realized that Bro must have removed both of their shades at some point, as he was staring directly into the bright morning sunrise on the middle of his brother’s face.
“Not your fault,” was all Dave could manage through his coughs, still short of breath from the sobbing.
Bro pressed his forehead to Dave’s for the briefest moment, sighing, before he started to lift Dave as if to remove him from his lap. Unwilling to be moved, however, Dave’s hands dug in even harder to Bro’s shoulders and he managed to regain enough feeling in his legs to wrap them around Bro’s middle. “Dave, what-?”
Bro quickly gave up trying to move him, but Dave could see that he was confused by Dave’s pushback. It was as if he was moving Dave because he thought Dave wouldn't want to sit on him anymore, not because he wanted Dave anywhere else himself.
“Hey, Bro?” Dave stared Bro down, determined now that he felt like he had the upper hand for once.
Bro looked rebellious, as if he couldn't answer, but finally acceded with a groan. “Yeah, lil bro?”
“I know you’ve been playing at being Santa Claus or whatever for some ironic reason that’s too cool for me to understand, but I’m not doing that just to ask a question. What do you want for your birthday?” Bro’s eyes narrowed at Dave’s question, immediately suspicious.
“You know you’re not allowed to buy me anything. My birthday don't matter. Birthdays just mean you’re getting older when you’re my age. Today is just your birthday. My birthday can fuck off. And don't think you’re gettin’ away from talking about this mess just by trying to bribe me with a gift, anyways. I fucked up. You don't need to pretend it’s okay. Don't worry. We can getcha into a dorm for next semester in just a few weeks and you won't have to worry about-”
“No.” Dave hated to cut Bro off when he wasn't sure if he’d ever heard him say so many words in a row, but Bro was crossing into dangerous waters and Dave didn't want to hear it. If Bro had been kicking Dave out because he wanted Dave gone, Dave would have taken it with a straight face. He would have cried about it later, but in the moment he would have maintained his stoicism. That didn't seem to be what was happening, though. Bro was trying to kick Dave out to protect him from himself, which was ridiculous because Dave had never needed protecting from Bro. As hard as Bro had pushed him all his life, Dave always knew that Bro would back off when he was truly at his limit. Bro trained him so hard so that Dave could protect himself from the world, but Dave’s first line of defence would always be Bro. Dave’s worries about Bro wanting him gone had all been based on Bro being sick of being his defender. The only way in which Bro was a threat to Dave was that he could crush Dave’s feelings under his heel unknowingly. An emotional threat was the only threat Bro posed to Dave, but evidently Dave posed that threat right back to him and he hadn’t even known it. With that in mind, perhaps Dave needed to show a little vulnerability if that’s what he wanted in return. “I’m right where I want to be. So what do you want for your birthday?”
The suspicion didn't leave Bro’s face, but it did lessen somewhat, even as Dave could see the cogs turning behind Bro’s eyes as he went through every mental calculation he could think of to figure out what answer Dave wanted to hear in response to his question. He supposed he would need to nip that in the bud.
“I want your real answer, Bro.”
“No you don't.” Bro let out a truly embarrassing sigh, collapsing back on the futon and relinquishing his hold on Dave. It would be easy to scramble off Bro’s lap if he wanted, but Dave intended to make it clear that he was happy where he was, so he relaxed his legs, lightening his cling grip somewhat to gently stroke his thumb across Bro’s shoulder, eliciting the smallest of shivers in response.
“I do. Hit me with it.” Dave smiled, feeling more certain by the second that Bro wanted exactly what Dave wanted to give him.
They sat in silence for a minute that felt like an eternity before Bro covered his eyes with his hands. “You. You fuckin’ know that what I want is you, you brat.”
This time, it was Dave that leaned in and kissed Bro.
Immediately, Bro’s hands left his face to rest on Dave’s hips, tugging him closer as if he was afraid Dave might vanish from his lap at any moment if he wasn't grounded in place. Bro kissed like a thunderstorm, wild and wet and electrifying in its passion, and Dave couldn't get enough of it. He wanted to keep kissing forever. He knew that there was plenty he and Bro would need to talk about, insecurities that would need to be aired and discussions about how long both of them had been keeping their feelings a secret, but Dave felt better than he had in years.
Bro broke the kiss to bite and suck his way down Dave's neck. “Fuck. You’re sure this is what you want? We can still stop. No one’s gotta know about this if you’re just doing it because I’m makin’ you.”
“Do I look like you’re making me?” Dave ground his hips against Bro’s lap, demonstrating how hard he was from something as simple as sloppy makeouts. Clearly Bro appreciated the tactile confirmation, as he pulled on Dave’s hips to grind back before pulling his hands away as if he’d been burned.
“Alighty then. I take your point. Still… I'm not fuckin’ you just yet. You’re gonna have to sit on it for a while first, prove you’re as sure about it as you’re actin’, Mr. High and Mighty birthday boy.” Dave groaned, biting Bro’s shoulder as if that would convince him to see things Dave’s way, but Dave knew that makeouts were all he’d be getting that night, no matter how he played his cards. Still, it was more than he had thought he’d ever get less than an hour before, so he still felt like he hit the jackpot, sex or no.
“Do I still get my birthday present, at least?” Deciding that being a little shit was the better part of valour, Dave gave Bro his best puppy dog eyes, taking full advantage of the fact that he and his brother were both still bare-eyed.
With a laugh and a smile that warmed Dave’s heart, Bro stood before unceremoniously dumping Dave back on the futon and flash stepping away.
“Jerk,” Dave muttered to himself, somehow certain that Bro would be right back.
Dave saw Bro with a giant box in his hands for a fraction of a second before the box was suddenly flying right at his head. “Catch.”
If Dave’s reflexes hadn't been honed by years of training, the box absolutely would have smashed into his face. As it was, he managed to get a hold of it right before it made contact, eagerly sitting it down and tearing it into the paper. When he got through the layers of tape and finally unveiled his gift, he couldn't stop himself from flashing over to Bro and wrapping him in a hug. Though Bro clearly wasn't expecting the gesture, he returned it immediately, kissing the top of Dave’s head so lightly that Dave would have doubted it happened if he hadn't seen the sheepish scrunch of Bro’s eyebrows when he pulled back.
“I know you like dead shit, and those crows on the roof are practically your pets, but I thought you'd like it anyway, despite the morbidity.” And Bro was right. The taxidermied crow was a perfect gift, and Dave knew exactly where he was going to put it.
“I love it. Now… buy me dinner and maybe we can make out some more like a real date.” Dave kissed Bro and flashed away, laughing as Bro chased after him. He couldn't remember the last time he’d had so much fun, and Bro was matching him beat for beat. The anxiety of earlier in the day was a distant memory in the face of a Bro who would kiss Dave and chase him around the apartment as a game rather than as a strife or a challenge to be beaten. He could only hope that, whatever new dynamic they had unlocked, it was one that they would continue to enjoy in the future. Even if there were still plenty of insecurities and decisions about how to handle their relationship going forward that Bro and Dave would need to deal with in the coming days and weeks, he couldn't have asked for a better birthday.
For once, Dave wasn't worried that Bro would want him gone. This year, he knew that Bro wanted to keep him as much as Dave wanted to be kept.