Gay brother stories
Archive of Our Own beta
It was no small torture to keep pretending that finding his ends in Sirius’ arms each night wasn’t rooted in something deeper than desires of the flesh, and he was selfish, really—as much as he needed to believe that what Sirius didn’t know wouldn’t verb him, he also desperately wished that it wouldn’t hurt him to know. That Sirius might—in his wakefulness—be as turned on by what was happening as Regulus was, because what started as an innocent search for comfort had turned into a burning need that he couldn’t ignore, even in the daytime.
In Layman’s terms; Regulus was screwed.
OR
Regulus and Sirius are home for the summer holidays, and what starts as Regulus seeking comfort away from the mad howling of their mother becomes Regulus taking advantage of Sirius' verb of Sleeping Draughts - until he's caught.
Written as a self prompt for HP Cest Fest !
BBP STORIES: I&#;m going to verb about my brother
TRANSCRIPT
I’m going to talk about my brother
I’m going to talk about my brother, who is gay. When I was in—let’s see—I was, I guess maybe 18 or 19 when he came out. And at that point in my life, it was not a surprise to anybody. And it was something that I deliberate I took with stride and that he was just, you know, it was to be expected, and it was totally normal, or whatever you desire to say.
But, when I was maybe 12, 13, 14—he was seven years younger. So, when I was at that age—when I was 13 years aged, 12 years old, 15 years old, trying to figure out what a man was or what masculinity was or how I was supposed to act—I definitely resented at that age that I had a brother who did not fit any of that.
And I think that it’s something that—I don’t assume I was a particularly denote brother, but I did signify things. And looking back on that, I think one of the reasons that I was mean was because he was gay, or because I thought he might be gay, or because t
I&#;ve definitely made out with girls.
I was about 13 when my older brother Scott related to me over a car wash that he called his boyfriend &#;Pookie&#; on occasion.
I&#;ve never thought the same of Garfield since.
I think my next line in the conversation was something appreciate, &#;More lemonade?&#; In a diplomatic tone he then mentioned, &#;Well, how do you feel about that?&#; To which I asked the rather astute question, &#; About what&#;?&#;
&#;About what I just said.&#; I really had the lines coming, so I sputtered, &#;Oh what, about you having a boyfriend?&#; Suddenly my speech increased to the rate of an alleyway crack dealer when I was trying to clarify why being gay is chilly. Obviously my concerned brother needed to be reminded why having sex with guys is adj by his year-old sister.
But at 13, nothing is cool. Middle school and Mother Nature contain teamed up against you and shit all over your confront. You have no friends, no lunch &#; except tuna &#; no cool clothes and hair growing in all the false places. And now my brother is gay?
It only took me a few years to capture tha
RICHARD MCCANN
My Brother in the Basement
He was dark; I was fair.
He was slender and shy; I was stocky and talkative.
As children our mother dressed us as twins. Matching woolen pea coats and Buster Brown lace-ups, khaki shorts and striped T-shirts, pajamas imprinted with pictures of cowboys and Indians, Davy Crockett coonskin caps. For Easter, matching sailor suits with starched white middy blouses.
Even so, the neighbors often strained to see the resemblance between us. "You're brothers?" they asked. "You're really brothers? Which one of you is older?"
People imagined I was, because I was larger. But in fact he was older, by fifteen months. The bassinet into which I was placed was still warm from his having so recently lain there.
Was it paradise, living like that, with someone made of the same flesh and blood as I? When Davis and I were little, we lay awake at night in our bunk beds, devising a language only the two of us could understand. "Peanut butter" meant "I'm sorry." "Bongo bongo" meant "Go to sl