Chapter Text
You called him Dad. You only called him Dad in your head. You knew his first name, you didn't use it. You addressed him as Mr. Egbert, because he deserved your respect. He commanded it, in the kindest way possible.
You were fucking in love with him. You were sick. He was a gentleman, you were a disgrace.
Every time he called you David your dick twitched.
He called you David a lot.
You used to pride yourself on being one hundred percent unshakable. You used to think you were actually cool and slick and smooth. Then you turned thirteen and you realized life was a fucking joke. You were still unshakable and your comeback speed was nigh-instantaneous and nobody ever messed with you. You kicked ass when you needed to, and you needed to kick ass a lot. You took hits and you gave them right back and then you'd crawl back home to lick your wounds.
After a while Bro got tired of your shit and told you to stop being such a temperamental little bitch. You punched him in the nose and he laid you out on the kitchen floor. You woke up an hour later with a bloody lip, a rattled headcase, and shredded pride.
You'd talk to John whenever you felt like you needed to relax. He was so fucking happy all the time you almost resented him, but instead you decided to let him share it with you.
Most of the time you felt like a ragged shadow trying to sit on an angel's shoulder.
You felt even worse when Mr. Egbert would get involved, cooking you frankly amazing food and sometimes letting you stay over even on weekdays. He was a goddamn saint just for putting up with you.
You kissed John on the mouth once, and almost ruined everything. He decided to pass it off as a joke and you decided to go with it and you didn't come over for a while.
You got over him, but you still needed him more than anyone else.
You felt like shit for unloading all your baggage on him. You wanted to let up; you were stifling him and you knew how much he hated to commit. He was too breezy to anchor you.
One day you realized you just felt safe at John's house, whether he was there or not.
The day you learned this was also the day you promised never to break into his house again while you were skipping school. But you didn't think you'd ever forget that profound feeling you had walking through the Egberts' living room touching every single photo.
You were a fucking weirdo and you knew it. You couldn't stop.
Mr. Egbert came home and he almost caught you but you were a goddamn ninja so you hid. He didn't find you. He was in the living room with you and he didn't even know it. He took a nap on the couch and you watched him for exactly fifteen minutes after his breathing started to soften in sleep. You slipped out the front door without a sound.
That night you had your first wet dream in three years that didn't star John.
On your sixteenth birthday you actually made a real wish blowing out the candles on your cake. Your cake that Dad made. That he fucking made specifically for you out of the goddamn goodness of his fucking heart.
You got even more unruly for a while just trying to come to terms with your own petty jealousy of John for having such a perfect father. Your mind placed Mr. Egbert on a pedestal and you felt sick and wrong and you fell in love so hard you thought there would be scars.
Every single day you thought about Dad. You saw him in John sometimes.
You wanted him in you.
You got into more fights. In a stupid, manipulative, roundabout way you were trying to hurt yourself so you could appeal to your best friend's father's sense of pity. You wanted him to feel sorry for you and be so fucking tender with his sad knowing smiles and his tempting offers to be there if you needed to talk.
If you wanted to talk to someone to get answers you'd talk to Bro. Sometimes you hated him but he was your brother and he always seemed to know a whole fucking lot about the same kind of shit you found yourself getting into. Turned out he fell in love with an older dude too, once.
So it fucking ran in the family. You wanted to laugh out all of your innards and die.
You wondered how the fuck John even put up with you anymore. You liked to imagine he saw you as a brother. You were the world's worst brother. You needed to get taken out back and shot.
You needed to get fucked.
You started to grow up and get wise and you were becoming a pro at pushing every real feeling you ever had deep deep deep down in the dark pits of you. When you were out and about you were a dashing goddamn punk and everyone wanted to either punch you or suck your dick.
You accepted either. Sometimes both.
It always came back to John and Mr. Egbert, though. When you were feeling tired you could go to their house and just... be. You'd talk to John on Pesterchum and drop tiny hints of all the shit that was hurting you, leave them in front of him like a dead bird at his door, and he'd demand you come over and hang out. You knew he knew what you were doing when you were off hanging with assholes that weren't John. He wanted you safe and you appreciated that.
Even though you felt like a manipulative douche for basically forcing him to invite you over.
It was worth it to see that look on Dad's face that one time he spotted your busted lip. You wanted him to kiss it better.
You had fucking issues.
Dad was never anything but kind and cordial to you. He was sweet and clean and the exact fucking opposite of everything you were. You pretended to flirt with him sometimes. He'd laugh and brush you off completely. It was a really fond kind of hurt.
Once when you were seventeen you came over and Dad was in the kitchen, so you talked to him for a couple minutes and helped him finish making dinner (Bro would have shit his pants at your blatant sincerity). John came downstairs and asked you how long you'd been there and why you didn't tell him you were already here. You shrugged and cracked a joke about Striders striding. Then you all ate dinner together like a fucking family, and that was so precious and novel you could hardly stand it.
Sometimes you wondered if John was worried you were trying to steal Dad from him.
You kind of were.
You'd do anything to hear Dad say, "Thank you, David." You were a goddamn suck-up and you had no regrets.
You'd fuck your hand later when you were alone, and think of him. You had some regrets about that. But not many.
Dad formally met Bro at your graduation, and Bro had that look on his face like he was itching to tell him what a DILF he was. You got possessive and everybody else just thought you hated your brother. You didn't. Mr. Egbert was just off fucking limits.
John went to the Grad Nite party but you didn't. You got high as a kite with some of your douche stoner friends, and then wandered over to the Egbert house on your own.
You were so fucking stupid, and in retrospect you were amazed Dad didn't just slam the door in your face. But you guessed he would have been more concerned if he did leave you out in the world while you were giggling and skipping clumsily and stopping to stare at your hands every thirty seconds.
He took you in and let you watch a movie and even made you a late-night snack. You were pretty sure you begged him to lay on the couch with you. He ended up just sitting there while you shuffled around like a restless puppy. You went to sleep at some point and woke up with your head in his lap and you never felt more at ease about anything.
Your also had your dick in your hand.
You were a fucking idiot.
You didn't really want to even stop touching yourself, but you had enough sense to know this was a bad fucking idea, and you thanked the god you didn't believe in that Dad apparently wasn't even awake to see you acting like a horny dumbass.
You quieted down and absorbed as much of the moment as you could.
But all you could think about was that if you moved your head just a little you could probably mouth his cock through his pants.
You got up and stumbled out into the backyard because you sure fucking didn't dare violate either of the two bathrooms in the house. You jacked off outside in the balmy pre-dawn darkness and buried your cum in a three-inch layer of dirt. It seemed somehow fitting, like you were some horrible fucking ill-behaved dog banished to the yard for humping the guests. Sounded about right.
That had been one of the stupidest nights of your life. But also one of the best.
Then college happened and John dragged you along for the ride. You'd been done with bullshit academia since your sophomore year of high school, but it was still good getting to hang out and be semi-adults with John, and you made sure you were with him for all the big firsts. First underage drinking party, first draw of weed, first-- alright, you weren't exactly with him the first time he had The Full Sex (he actually, honestly called it that, who even does that). But you were there when he came back to the dorm grinning and laughing breathlessly and screaming at three in the morning that his name was John Egbert and he just had sex. You knew the girl he fucked and she was really wild and loose and totally great. You respected her. You were sure she showed John a good time. Confidence boosted through the roof, John promptly got a girlfriend.
You remembered a time when you'd have killed to be the first one to touch John's pretty dick.
What happened?
Stupid fucking question.
Thanksgiving break came and you went to see Bro and you spoke about three sentences each and fistbumped. Family bonding complete.
You honestly were completely fine with keeping your distance from Bro. You gave each other a lot of shit over the years (you continue to, just not as often or in person) and now that you were out of the house he had some breathing room. You both did.
Besides, now you were basically free to stay at the Egberts' house whenever you came down to visit. Fucking score.
You got to their house and somehow forgot to factor in the girlfriend thing. But it ended up working out pretty okay; she still got the guest room, but she also basically monopolized John's time, leaving Dad all to you.
The time away from him drove you a little nuts, but it also gave you some time to burn off some of your pent-up shit in a relatively consequence-free environment. You were smooth as fucking silk.
Or at least you were until you completely fucking broke down and called him Dad to his fucking face. Fuck, fuck, fuck. You blew it, that's the end, everything lost, he either thought you were a creep or he went back to thinking of you as a little kid.
Oh god, but he was warm. His gorgeous fucking smell was all around you and he felt like home.
So naturally you waited until he was asleep and slunk into his room to watch him and maybe touch him a little. Made perfect fucking sense.
He was so fucking handsome though, could anyone blame you? (Yes.) You touched his hair and he almost seemed to lean into your hand and you were scared shitless but you kept going, pushing your luck way past its limits.
And, better than you could have possibly imagined, he moved with you in his sleep; he was slowly responding and god you could just slip your hand under the covers and touch him everywhere and shit you were going to fucking cry. This was so wrong and stupid and you were so ashamed of yourself and you felt like a sick rapist but you were making out with your best friend's dad and he held you so gently and you hoped to god he was having a good dream because of you.
Dad fell into a deeper sleep and his hands slipped from your waist. Everything came crashing back down and you were left staring balefully at his face that was so relaxed and open and kind. Your lips were tingling and you couldn't remember the last time you were this hard and hot for anybody.
When you got back downstairs to your couch of exile, you really did cry.
You went back to school and it was the same as always. You got wild around your birthday and half the school was celebrating with you. You got a stud in your tongue and you felt like such hot shit. You were hot shit. You had dirty fantasies about Dad punishing you for getting such disgraceful body modifications. You'd moan to him in the shower going, "God, yes, hurt me Daddy."
Christmas came and you got dragged off to the Bahamas with a bunch of other college cool kids. They were fucking chumps but you put up a good front for them like you always did. Drunk parasailing was probably the highlight of the trip.
You got back to campus for a brief respite. John was still at Dad's and you had the dorm to yourself.
You checked your mail two days after Christmas and found a package waiting for you.
Mr. Egbert got you a really fucking nice winter coat. It was dark red and insulated and had a fur-trim hood and you were fucking crushed by how good he was to you.
He called you later that day to make sure you got your gift and he sounded so kind and deep and loving and you had to bite back every moan as you tugged your cock to the sound of his voice. When the call ended you screamed and came all over yourself and it was disgusting and beautiful and you were very alone.
You promised Dad you’d be home for New Year’s Eve.
You had to end this. You couldn't keep doing this to yourself or to Dad.
Time to man the fuck up and stride casually to your doom.