a/n: fuck yeah im exhausted. My calculus teacher is talking to us about yugioh and fucking college exams 👌🏼👌🏼👌🏼 im gonna vanish after this for a while bc finals and depression naps. Also been playing breath of the, wild and i love it so so so so much theyre all my babies

--

"Alright, guys, this is it! Welcome... welcome to home!" Ryan beams happily at them as they pull into the driveway of a simple, oak-colored house. The front yard is big and a lush green, with an old looking tree slumped over in the front.

It looks like a simple place. Brock exits the car, grabbing his and Tyler's things. He slings both backpacks over his shoulder and follows the other two into the house.

Ryan lifts up a tiny dog, smiling brightly at them as he shows off the tiny pooch. "This is Buddy. He's a great boy. Come on, I'll show you your rooms. You guys must be tired after the drive."

"I'm actually really fucking hungry," Tyler announces. "Can we eat?"

"Of course! The kitchen is that way- you eat whatever you find," Ryan hums, pointing down to the left. Tyler happily jogs off in the given direction, leaving Brock alone with his new foster father.

They look at each other awkwardly. Brock smiles weakly, a desperate attempt to diffuse the weird tension in the air. It only half works. Ryan leads Brock down a hall, the walls painted a warm green and the floors a rich brown, boards creaking under his steps. There's pictures up on the walls, though Brock doesn't get a chance to look at them. He assumes they're some kind of family, though.

"This first room here is a bathroom," Ryan says, opening the door to reveal, indeed, a bathroom. "The one at the very end is mine. Your room and Tyler's are across from each other. I figured you two can pick one, and we'll just go from there..."

Brock nods attentively. "Yeah! That works fine. Thanks."

"There's no need to thank me," Ryan insists. "You guys need a place to sleep regardless. Tomorrow we'll go shopping for some clothes and groceries, alright?"

He nods again. "Yeah. Sounds good. I.. I think I'm going to bed now. Night!"

Brock is inside his new bedroom within seconds, and is closing the door almost instantly. He hears Ryan laugh from the other side, calling out, "Goodnight, Brock!"

His tired mind urges him to say goodnight back, but his body immediately pushes him into his new bed. Brock groans happily as he sinks into a plush mattress, a big soft blanket underneath him. He drags himself further up the bed, something soft and fuzzy brushing against his forehead. Looking up ever so slightly rewards Brock with the sight of a fuzzy, bright pink pillow.

He buries his face into it and is out like a light.

--

"Brock, holy FUCK!" The door bangs open as Tyler stomps into the room. "BROCK THERE'S A FUCKING WOLF FIGHTING A FIRE DEMON OUTSIDE COME LOOK!"

Brock stirs. He groans, rolls over, then buries his face into his fuzzy pillow. Tyler can, really and truly, go fuck a bird or something like that. Brock wants sleep. He stayed up until midnight writing an essay that was due (at midnight), then began his character study for English. He wants sleep. Any form of speaking or writing, anything that even remotely involves words needs to go fuck itself and leave Brock alone.

So you know what Brock does? He gives Tyler the finger and sleeps. Only... he doesn't. Tyler refuses to let him sleep, so he leaps onto the bed and nearly crushes Brock.

With excruciating pain burning in his back, Brock rolls off the bed and glares up at his brother. "What. The. Fuck."

"There's. A. Wolf. Fighting. A. DEMON." Tyler responds back with the same angered, pissy voice. It almost makes him sound believable. Almost.

He crosses his arms. "Fuck off! Let me slee-"

Thunk. Something slams against the wall harshly, a small whimpering sound coming from outside.

A loud, ear piercing cry is heard, then the faint crackling of fire. The room lights up faintly with a soft, golden glow. The exact kind that comes from, you know, fire.

Yeah. Brock's a little worried now.

"What...?" There are no words to describe his confusion.

"Fuck if I know. You wanna go look?" Tyler's lack of concern worries Brock greatly.

He gives his brother a slap on the arm. "No! I don't wanna die! If we go out-"

Tyler is running off before Brock can even finish his sentence. It takes all the strength Brock has to not scream in anger. He settles for getting up and, like the idiot he is, running after Tyler with a cry of, "dammit, Tyler!"

It takes them a minute to reach the scene of the crime- apparently Brock has zero sense of distance or direction- but they indeed reach the weird wolf-demon fight. Tyler had run ahead of Brock, which is probably why he took so long to reach this area. (He got a little lost.)

Brock has to dodge two stray rocks that come flying out at him almost instantly. The wolf, the poor thing, is growling up at the weird entity in front of it.

Tyler is also there, Brock realizes. Like the dumbass he is, Tyler is standing behind the demon. He has a stick.

Now, Brock's no expert on demon killing, but he's pretty sure that sticks aren't the most efficient way. But since Brock isn't in any position to stop Tyler, he is forced to watch as Tyler swings his stick and bashes it into the creature's head. Part of the stick flies off in flames, the other part still sitting nicely in Tyler's grip.

The demon is mildly displeased, to say the least. It shoots out a sudden burst of flames erratically, some of them going off into the sky while others barely miss Brock. One of them shoots out and slams into the poor wolf's side.

Brock wants to go over and help, but a small, shimmery form pops out in front of him and effortlessly knocks him backwards onto his ass. He cries out in pain because ow, his ass. His head also hurts, though Brock assumes that's just normal for falling backwards.

If you were to ask Brock, he'd gladly admit he has zero clue as to what's happening. All he sees is a slender orange and red figure above him, and some kind of fire making him feel ridiculously hot. He tries to kick at the thing, but god knows where his legs are because they don't do jack shit to help.

No, no, his legs are useless. So are his hands. All four of them. And since when did the world start spinning?

He's almost positive that this isn't normal. Maybe he's seeing double?

Regardless of weird circumstances, Brock manages to wobble to his feet. He hears Tyler yelling something at him. Admittedly, though, Brock can't make out the words. He just knows Tyler is yelling at him, because who else would he yell at?

There's a woosh of air, and then something nice and cold against Brock's skin. It's ice. Brock is now touching a frozen fire demon, he registers somewhere in the depths of his brain. When did this happen?

The little magic bastard in front of him screeches horribly as it disintegrates in front of his eyes. He laughs dazedly at the sight. That can't feel very good for him.

The wolf is just staring at Tyler. His side is burnt, though, and that worries Brock. He tries to get over to the wolf, but none of his legs are working. Brock trips and falls again, but this time something manages to catch him. It's Tyler. Tyler caught him. Isn't that sweet? He does care.

The wolf moves. It comes towards Brock, and Brock smiles and holds a hand out. The feeling of fur under his hand is nice. It feels good and makes him feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

Then the wolf backs up slightly. There's a small blur of brown and white in front of him. A second man is here now, standing by them, and then Tyler is dropping Brock back onto the ground with a cry.

This time, Brock's head hits the ground for sure. You know how he knows? His vision blacks out for a couple seconds (or minutes). As if his head wasn't already hurting enough, a sharp pain against the left side of his head makes him groan out in pain.

There's footsteps, then a familiar voice yelling out at them.

"Tyler? Brock?! What the fuck are you guys doing out here? Why is Brock hurt?!" Ryan's panicked voice comes out much louder than Brock expects. "Is he bleeding? Why can't he stand up?! Don't tell me..."

Whatever Ryan's going on about fades into the back of Brock's mind. He's much more focused on the strange guy standing off to the side. He's kinda cute, as far as blurry, barely-there guys go. Maybe if Brock hadn't hit his head and could actually see the guy, he would be a lot more attractive.

Regardless, Brock is wounded, gay, and tired. He decides the floor is a great spot for a nap, and shamelessly flops down onto it to sleep.