It Feels Good To Me

- - - - -
"As the wisdom runs
A boy should know his limitations
But I've talked myself through less
Can I be your future pest
'Cause if that is what you need
A sycophantic boy like me
Who'll tell you things
You really don't need
Oh joy I'm your boy
And it feels good to me
Don't fear superboy is here
And it feels good to me"
- Catherine Wheel, "Future Boy"

- - - - -

It was late January, 2013, and the end of Dave's senior year of highschool was rapidly approaching. He was getting good grades (failure was not cool at all) and it was looking like he was going to graduate with honors, near the top of his class. He hadn't discussed any of these things with Bro, of course. He hadn't even bothered with a class ring or any graduation invitations; they didn't have any family to invite, and all Dave's friends would be graduating at the same time as him. The only thing he'd taken to Bro was the packet of papers on his graduation robes and senior pictures. Bro had signed off on everything, of course, and had made sure that everything got taken care of (Dave's senior pictures were epically cool), but Dave still wasn't entirely sure that Bro would even go to his graduation; you just never knew with him.

Cash had been rather tight around the Strider household since about November, so Christmas presents had been pretty scarce (not that they ever acknowledged having bought one another anything, anyway. The gifts just turned up mysteriously in the other's room, and nothing was said about it). But lately Dave had begun to notice that Bro was eating a lot less than usual, and his own portions had gotten bigger; he remembered a time when he was a kid that the same thing had happened. That time the dry spell hadn't lasted long and business had picked right back up; this time it wasn't looking like that was going to happen anytime soon, and Bro was starting to look... almost sickly. It was pretty horrifying, actually, though Dave didn't say anything at first.

There was a day, however, that was just the final straw for him. He walked into the bathroom to take a piss after he heard his Bro get out of the shower and walked in on the man stabbing a new notch into his belt with a pocketknife.
"...Bro. Bro, we gotta talk, man."

Bro looked up, and for a slit second his poker face slipped to reveal a spark of guilt and surprise before it was a cool mask again. "What's up Faggot? Ever heard of knocking?"

"Kitchen. Now," was all he said before turning and stalking out of the room. When Bro walked in, Dave was leaning back against the counter, staring at his shoes with a troubled look on his face, like he was thinking some seriously heavy thoughts. He looked up at Bro's entrance, his face slipping into an emotionless mask.

"Okay, Bro. This is stopping here and now. I won't put up with this shit."

"What shit?" Bro asked, opening the fridge and pretending to look for something to eat, but closing it after not removing anything. "You mean taking a shower?" he asked "I guess I can do that, so long as you don't mind the man stink."

Seeing him fake looking for something to eat sent Dave over the edge. He grabbed Bro by the shoulders and pushed him back against the counter, gripping him hard enough to hurt. "No. No, fuck you. You are not doing this to yourself," he said, shaking his head. "I can't let you do this, Bro. I can't stand it. You don't have to go hungry to feed me, gogdamnit!" His breathing was fast and erratic, nearly panicked, as he searched his Bro's face for any sign that he understood.

Bro's poker face remained in tact. "Dave, sometimes times get rough. Its my first priority to take care of you, and if that means I have to cut back, then I cut back. I'm not going hungry." he stated. "Just relax. I'm not doing anything to myself."

"You're a fucking liar!" Dave shouted. Immediately both his hands went under Bro's shirt and slid up his sides so that he could run his thumbs across Bro's increasingly prominent ribs. "Bro, you're starving yourself. I'm not a little kid anymore, I can see what you're doing to yourself. I see the weight you're losing. I see how pale you are. I can see how much weaker you've gotten in the past few months." He leaned his head on Bro's shoulder, trying to hide the tears that were welling up behind his shades, and slid the palms of his hands up Bro's chest. "Bro, I can help you DJ. With two of us, we could get twice the amount of work, bring in twice the money. I'll do anything to keep you from doing this to yourself, Bro. I fucking love you, man."

Bro hissed sharply at the contact on his bare skin. "Fuck no, Dave, you concentrate on graduating. That's the most important part right now. If you want to help, graduate, then you can help DJ to your little hearts content."

"Bro, I'm gonna graduate with fucking honors. I could stop doing all my homework and skip every day of class for the rest of the year, and my grades would probably still be good enough for me to graduate. All I'm asking is that you let me do something to help... To help you fix this shitty situation! I don't even know what the fuck I can do, but I know that sitting on my ass in the apartment while you're out bustin' yours is not gonna fly, not when you're suffering like this. I can't fucking stand seeing you this way, Bro," he said, his voice breaking. "It breaks my heart." He raised a hand to remove his shades and set them on the counter so that he could press his face into Bro's neck, his hands roaming slowly over Bro's unnaturally thin torso.

Bro groaned but gave in. "Fine, you can help DJ, but your schoolwork always comes first. Got it?"

"If I agree, will you start eating again?" he asked, sounding desperate. His hands trailed down Bro's sides to his thin hips and gripped the prominent bones there tightly. "I love you, Bro, and it hurts me to see you like this. I need you, Bro," he whispered softly, pressing himself against his brother's chest.

Bro sighed. "Yeah, I'll eat again. Jegus fuck, let go of my hips." He pulled Dave's hands away. "I'm not gonna fucking leave you, so don't worry about it"

Dave looked his brother in the eye (there was only an inch or so of height difference between them then), still terribly worried. "You already left me once, you know. I couldn't stand losing you again, Bro," he said softly, pressing the man more firmly back against the counter. "Do you not understand that I love you more than anyone else? You might be a major asshole sometimes, but I love you."

"Fuck Dave, just be a nerd would you? Cool kids don't say shit like that." Bro actually frowned at finding the counter wedged in his back. "And that was during your stupid game shit. So it doesn't count."

"Stupid game shit that killed you," Dave replied, frowning. "It was still the shittiest, most terrifying thing that's ever happened to me in my life. So it does count, and don't you ever fucking forget it." He ran his hands up Bro's sides again, his fingertips moving over the man's ribs, counting them. He decided, then, that if he was going to do this, he was doing it all the way; that's how Striders rolled.

His hands immediately went back down to Bro's hips, pressing them roughly back into the counter and digging the formica into the older Strider's lower back. "I don't really give a shit what cool kids are or are not supposed to do, Bro. Haven't you always said that Striders make their own rules? Right now my totally unironic love for you is the rule, and you're just going to have to deal with that."

Bro grunted at the uncomfortable sensation of pain from the counter. "Okay faggot, I get it. You love me, you don't want me starving to death to feed you, you didn't like seeing me die in your shitty game. I get it. Now let go and go do your gog dammed homework before the counter breaks my spine."

Dave leaned back just enough to give Bro an evaluatory look for a moment before making a final decision. Yeah, he was definitely doing this; it was about time. "No, you really don't get it, Bro. But I guess you will here in a few..." he said enigmatically, rubbing his thumbs in small circles on Bro's hipbones as he continued to press the man back against the counter.

Bro hissed and jerked forward. Dave had pressed hard against a very erotically sensitive part of him. "Fuck, Dave, get the fucking hell off." he snarled.

Dave's only reaction was to smirk slightly. "I don't think I will," he said. "You liked that, huh? Let me do it again." He repeated the action that had produced such a violent reaction and nudged the collar of Bro's polo farther open so that he could kiss the man's neck.

Bro jerked forward farther into Dave's ministrations. "F-Fuck! what the hell are you doing?!" he gasped

Dave gave a soft little groan as he sucked on the tendon in the side of Bro's neck and lightly rubbed their hips together. "Showing you how much I love you, Bro..." he whispered, his lips brushing Bro's neck, feather-soft. "Since you obviously don't understand."

Bro groaned and grabbed at Dave to keep from falling from the sheer simulation to his hips. "W-What the fuck?"

Dave pressed more firmly against Bro and rolled his hips, letting out an unrepressed moan of pleasure. "Mmmmnnnn, fuck, Bro..." he moaned softly, his lips right against Bro's ear. "I love you so much..."

Bro let out a soft whimper. "D-Dave, what the hell? Why?" he clung to him tightly. "Fuck, I raised you man."

"Mmmn... Because Striders don't settle for second best, Bro," he whispered huskily into the man's ear before turning his head slightly to capture Bro's lips in a kiss.