"I've never done this before."
"No shit? You were the one that showed me this. Or well, did it with me. And not you, obviously, the other you, Bro. It was the one thing I didn't hate, and honestly I would go as far as to say I halfway liked. That might be overselling it but, hey, we're having a blast, right?"
"I am definitely having a blast in the most literal sense possible, yes."
"Oh don't be like that, it's hot as balls, you wanted to do sword shit, this is fun as fuck."
"When you're right, you're right. Alright, throw three this time."
"That's what I'm talkin' about," Dave picked up three ice cold bottles of water, and readied them to throw. "Alright, set... cut!"
The three bottles were tossed high in the air, the sun glinted through the water, and Dirk was off in a blink, flash stepping and slicing with precision. Water sprayed over them both, offering relief from the blazing summer sun. Dave tilted his head back and carded a hand through his soaked hair, letting it stick up for a second. Goddamn it was fucking hot out.
Dirk landed with pure anime protagonist poise, and whipped his blade in a flourish, water arcing off the metal and onto the rooftop. Dave smothered a snicker, his brother was so cool it crossed all the way around to being profoundly silly. He managed to put his face back into a neutral position by the time Dirk turned his face back towards him, but he could tell Dirk wasn't fooled for a second, a single raised eyebrow an unamused accusation.
"Slick moves Dirk, so slick the oil companies are sending surveyors to this very roof so they can get estimations on exactly how many billions they can extract from the site of your incredible weeb ass slicknastiness." Dave saluted sarcastically, a grin threatening the corners of his mouth.
Dirk tilted his head and rested the sori of his katana on his shoulder, and he could front all he liked, but Dave knew he was pouting. After all the time hanging out, watching movies, doing meditation and sword shit, Dave could officially parse the micro expressions of Dirk's body language and knew what they meant. It wasn't all that different from Bro, but Dirk definitely had more variance in emotion, like now. Bro would absolutely never be caught dead pouting, but here Dirk was, trying to act like he wasn't put out because Dave was teasing his Ichigo Nagasaki routine or whoever the fuck he was emulating.
It was shit like this that made it all too obvious Dirk was his own person, and Dave could never see him and Bro as the same, no matter what ecto slime dna they shared.
"Are you going to talk shit or are you going to throw some more bottles? It's fucking hot and I have to, once again, school you on being cool, little bro." Dirk stanced up, the straight blade gleaming, his grip sure and perfect.
Dave couldn't hold his grin back anymore, and tossed a bottle up and down in his left hand. "Seems where I'm standing, you're the one being schooled on cool, big bro."
With that, he threw the bottle at Dirk full force, fastball style, he coulda been an athlete, he coulda been a contender. Dirk reacted just as swiftly, a perfect diagonal slice, and the bottle exploded directly on him, a massive blast of ice cold water. Dirk stood back and cleaned his blade again, the same swishy flourish, and shook like a big dog, his hair spraying droplets all over the place.
Dirk let out a big, relieved sigh and dropped out of his stance, his shoulders dropping. He was completely soaked, black tank top and baggy black joggers and all.
"You sure you don't want a turn bro? I could throw a few times." Dirk said, rolling his shoulders.
Dave shook his head, knowing that despite the overwhelming heat of the day, on this rooftop with his brother, he felt completely comfortable. He smiled, soft and sincere, and Dirk barely nodded. Dave readied five bottles, and Dirk slid into his stance.
He didn't have any doubts now, this really was connection, there on that scorching summer day.
