11. Trainrides

Summary: When Jack is forced to take the train home amidst a storm, he encounters a familiar someone. Chaos, and a little wholesomeness, ensues.

I just wanted them to have a fun time. Okay. HAPPINESS. I got the initial idea for this when taking the train home with my granma after visiting a museum.

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Heyaaa... Sorry about the sudden lack of scrumptious delicious top tier writing (sarcastic) but between exams, an unfinished 5k smut draft and playing dialtown for several consecutive hours a day: I fell into writer's block. I passed both the year and my Cambridge course tho, so yay!

I wanna write something about Henry and William but I'm so detrimentally scared to even GRAZE Henry's character. Help. Tips are appreciated...

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Buildings flashed by rapidly, rain hitting the glass before it formed drops that all raced down to the bottom, falling in puddles on the tracks. The train was warm and peaceful in comparison to the storm that raged outside, where darkness was only occasionally disrupted by a bright flash of light. Barely anyone was on the small train that traveled between two major cities to stop at places with names that hadn't been heard by more than the few thousand people living in it.

It would be a while before he arrived at his next stop, and even longer before he could drop lifelessly into his welcoming bedsheets. Jack's car had broken down unexpectedly in the morning, and given his house was far away from his current occupation, he had no choice but to take public transport. With him moving jobs constantly to both reverse and enhance the damage done in varying Freddy's locations, he hadn't found himself with enough money to afford apartments in every town or city. So, he was often stuck driving to work for hours on end everyday.

It was a coincidence that this storm occurred just when he was without a vehicle, especially considering the days before had been warm and sunny. Something about the humidity, he thought to himself, as he lay his cheek against the cold window. He felt dubious that a conductor would come to check for cards with only two people in his wagon, and wasn't worried about the stain his orange makeup would leave on the window. His eyes scanned the river running under the bridge his train crossed, noting that there weren't even ships that dared to go out in this weather.

The world was abandoned, no one dared to go out when conditions were as dire as these. And yet, he was still here, traveling home from work. He could've easily bailed; the job couldn't legally get rid of him, and if they were able to: they wouldn't. It was hard finding anyone willing to wear death-trap suits in this economy, so he was of unintentionally high value. But he showed up, moreso for Dave than for his heroic mission of saving the souls of innocent children; but he did. He would continue to show up, no matter how dire or tempting the conditions. He always came back.

The fact that he would do so, unlike anyone else, made him feel just as alone as he was on this very train. He sat against the window, oblivious to the person who was approaching the same station from another direction. Unlike Jack, Dave was far from qualified to drive, and hadn't had a car to his name in a long while. If he did, he would have slept in there after his boss forcefully escorted him out of the restaurant. Much like a certain other, Dave also moved from location to location, albeit for more malicious reasons. By now, he could dub the saferooms his bedrooms, with how much he slept in them.

Usually his bosses weren't concerned with his overnight presence, so he hadn't ever thought to change his habit, but tonight that damned phone man kicked him out for no apparent reason. He could sleep in an alley or under a bridge, sure, but the storm's cold wind would more than likely carry his scrawny figure along with it. His next best option was to either break and squat in an abandoned building, or linger on public transport until the storm would die down. Given the lack of abandoned locations, he went with the latter. For the past hour or two, he had hopped on the first train that passed by, which carried him to unimportant locations.

The train was warm, comforting, and he only had to wait a few minutes for another to arrive when he was at the station. He hadn't bought a ticket, Fredbear knew he didn't have the money to, but no one seemed to check them at this hour. That was, until now: his fourth train, going from one city to another with a few stops in between. A conductor began approaching, starting to check the few passengers that sat further towards the front. Dave's eyes shot around, body instantly jerked from its earlier slump and mind racing with solutions. It couldn't be long until the next station, the vehicle had stopped every few minutes up until now, he thought to himself.

In mere seconds, he had gotten out of his seat and walked up to the wagon's doors. Just as expected, the train slowed when the conductor began on the last person before Dave. Brakes creaked, the conductor looked his way with suspicion in his eyes, and Dave began repetitively clicking the button that ought to open the doors ahead of him. The foreign man cleared his throat, but alas, the doors finally slid open and Dave jolted into the pouring rain. He was merely granted a look from the conductor, who saw right through his scheme, before the doors slid closed again and the train departed.

In an attempt to remain dry, he ran under the glass waiting shelter that accompanied the station. He hadn't brought his jacket from his locker, Scott hadn't permitted him to, and he rubbed his shivering arms with his hands. This was dire. With his best hopes, he looked to schedule hung up in the shelter. It seemed God was merciful today, given the next train would arrive in but a feeble ten minutes. He hugged his knees to his chest and blew hot breaths into his hands, the cold air of a storm forming a bitter contrast to the body heated by a train.

The headlights of it alerted his shivering self, strictly on time. It wasn't until the train rolled up in his station that he saw a flash of orange on the opposite side through the windows, that he became truly engaged. For a brief second, the invasive cold was no longer as present through the adrenaline, rushing to step inside. He ran through an empty wagon, and surely enough, in the next sat his co-worker. Jack stared mindlessly out the window, seemingly mesmerized by the storm. He looked so peaceful, Dave almost felt guilty for sitting himself in the seat beside him.

"Why hello there, old sport!"

He exclaimed, and Jack nearly jumped from his seat in response.

"Jesus, fuck- You, I- Goddamn..."

He cussed at Dave, rubbing a hint of sleep from his eyes as he sat up. Dave snickered and playfully shoved Jack in the shoulder, raising a question:

"Guilty conscience, ay' sportsy?"

Jack finally looked at Dave, albeit with an utterly disappointed glare coaxing his face. His mouth had already fallen open in a response, but no words were ever pronounced as he eyed Dave up and down. His pants were partially soaked with rain and the flimsy shirt he wore could hardly be protective of these harsh conditions, Jack thought to himself. He seemed excited, but his body shivered lightly and appeared even more malnourished than it usually did.

"Dave, what're you doing here...?"

Was what he ended up with; arguably nicer than his initial response. Dave's eyes met his, seemingly surprised, as he lowered the hands that he had raised between the two in excitement. In the short amount of time in which he had seen Jack and rushed to sit beside him; he hadn't thought of any excuses for his presence on this train that would essentially lead him nowhere. He stuttered and choked on a response, looking at the window that was constantly assaulted by rain in an attempt to avoid Jack's questioning, yet caring, glare.

"I could ask you the same thing, old sport!"

Henry had taught him that trick; bounce back the question the moment you couldn't formulate an answer. He'd scolded him over it before, telling him that he would never master the simple technique, but he found that he spoke with enough confidence to be believable. Jack would have bought into it as well, if it wasn't for Dave's shivering to further increase. Instead of providing him the satisfaction by answering, he took off his jacket and handed it to Dave.

"Here. You look like you're freezing."

It still carried Jack's heat as Dave carefully draped the leather jacket along his shoulders, immediately feeling his body acclimatize to a more suitable temperature. He sat wordlessly in the seat, almost as if he feared any movement would trigger a negative response from Jack. It was when Jack sighed and leaned back against the window, that he convinced himself that was no longer the reality he lived in. He turned to Jack, relishing in his scent surrounding him from every direction, as he watched his eyes study the raindrops hitting the glass.

"So, where you headed, old sport?"

Jack's gaze returned to him once more, his eyelids thick and half lidded with sleep. He felt endeared at the sight, at the rain and the train tracks which made audible background noise, at the act of kindness Jack showed him by offering his jacket. While it didn't particularly show in his body language; Jack felt much the same, resting his head on Dave's shoulder. A flash from the sky briefly illuminated his features, staring thoughtlessly ahead of him.

"To the house I call my home, I suppose-"

Even Dave, whose emotions were all fabricated exaggerations, could tell how depressing of a statement that was. Carefully, he pried his arm away and lay it across Jack's shoulders, encouraging him to lean against his side. The temperature of the train, along with the other's jacket, had made his body a bearable temperature to be flush to.

"You?"

Asked Jack in return, immediately snapping Dave back to the mindset of making excuses for himself.

"The same direction, it seems..."

He desperately hoped Jack would accept that as an answer, withholding his breath as he awaited for any movement to his side. When none came, he looked down to see Jack had closed his eyes, his mouth slightly agape. Despite the beautiful scenery of a storm raging against the train that conquered it all, his eyes kept fixed on Jack's relaxed face. He could see where his makeup had begun to falter, and left a mark on the pristine window.

Although it was rare to see Jack without his usual pounds of orange foundation, he had one or two times, and he remembered where all the scars ran. Even through the thick layer of it, he saw where his skin was raised slightly above the rest, where his lips had an imperfection from the small scar that crossed them. Jack wasn't particularly fond of these imperfections, Dave knew, but he saw the beauty in them. Sometimes, when exhaustion allowed his affectionate thoughts to filter through, he wished he could kiss those disfigurements until Jack adored them like he did. Sometimes he wished he could kiss Jack in general, but-

"Sportsy-"

He hissed through his teeth, pushing Jack awake. He blinked in brief confusion, struggling to focus on Dave's worried face.

"A conductor, old sport, you got a ticket-?"

He was brought back to reality in a harsh manner.

"Wha- Fuck, no, do you know what those things cost nowadays-?!"

He whisper-yelled through gritted teeth, peeking over the rows of seats to see a woman in uniform address the singular other passenger.

"Do you?"

A last resort, no matter how pathetic it was.

"Fuck, sportsy, look at me! 'Course I don't!"

"Okay, um- Just-"

The conductor had arrived behind Dave, awaiting the two to notice her.

"Gentlemen, your tickets."

She demanded, quite possibly having overheard their conversation. The men faced her, Dave straightening his back as the jacket fell from his shoulders. Jack saw the hostility in his posture, the way his hands clenched into fists, and the sudden focus in his eyes. Not too enticed by the idea of violence induced conflicts and government involvement, Jack reached for his arm in an attempt to stop him.

But it had already been too late, as Dave rose from his seat and hit the conductor square in the face. The impact wasn't harsh enough to knock her to the floor, but she stumbled back against the opposite row of seats with a groan. One of Dave's hands took Jack's, the other grabbing his jacket, as he dragged him along the wagon.

"I- DAVE! You can't just hit a woman?!"

He looked over his shoulder to the conductor, who got herself back to her feet. They'd reached the end of the train, and Dave began furiously clicking the button that ought to open the doors despite the train being in full motion.

"I've hit just as many men as I have women, old sport, call me a fighter for equality-!"

The joke flew over his head entirely, head shooting back and forth between Dave and the conductor. She turned around and rushed to the front of the train, likely in search of backup against the two men, who outnumbered her. That next station ought to come quickly, or they would soon be wrapped up in a whole bunch of additional legal trouble. Luckily, the train began to slow, and Dave pushed Jack's coat back into his hands.

"Okay, get ready to run-"

The conductor had opened a door to the control room, just as the train began to roll in the station. Whoever was operating it wasn't in time to make an emergency stop, as it arrived perfectly in place and the doors slid open in response to Dave's frantic clicking. The two bolted into the rain, surprised to find that the wind had near entirely died down. Behind them, they could hear a heavy voice boulder over the station, but their legs quickly carried them away. The incident wasn't worth getting wet over, it seemed, as the train closed its doors and came in motion again.

Now standing in the streets of an unknown town, Dave cheered loudly at the wave of adrenaline. Jack, much less amused, held his jacket over his head in a feeble attempt to protect himself and his makeup from the rain. The other was already being soaked by rapidly falling drops, his chest heaving for breath as his eyes locked with Jack's. With a few steps, he reached him, jumping in the puddle that lay at Jack's feet. He yelped and stumbled back, surprised at the water that splashed up at him. An attempt to kick back at Dave was made, but he had already ran too far.

The harsh expression on Jack's face faltered, his posture softening. What was there to take seriously anyway; Dave had sat beside him on an entirely random train, punched a conductor, and dragged him out in the rain. He slipped his jacket back on, running after Dave as cold rain hit his face. The thin strands of hair that still occupied Dave's head stuck to his neck as Jack jumped in a puddle right in front of him, but his face held a wide and bright smile.

The water made his makeup run, orange streaks down his clothes where they either soaked it, or dropped onto the streets. But it simply didn't matter as Dave kicked up water again, and the two continuously ran after each other to one-up the previous attack. And they laughed, genuinely, for the first time in a long while. The storm wasn't so bad to go out in; not when he had Dave, who would rope him in whatever deliciously enjoyable mayhem presented itself.

He yelled at Dave to come here, but the purple man only ran further to avoid the splashes of Jack jumping in a puddle. It was ridiculous, really, to avoid the water in such a manner when it still poured down on them, but it was fun. Jack sprinted after him, wiping his face with the sleeve of his jacket, content to ignore the orange stain on it. Dave halted abruptly and turned around, too quickly for Jack to react as he nearly crashed against him. His slender hands grabbed Jack by his sides, a brief second filled only with the sound of rain clattering down, before Dave's leg hooked behind his own.

Dave tripped him, holding his body as he slowly lowered to the puddle they stood in. Despite furiously kicking his legs, Jack found no way to regain his balance and stand up, inevitably met with cold water soaking his back. He cussed at Dave, but his voice betrayed him and displayed the merriment he truly felt. Before Jack was able to get himself up, Dave sat over him with his knees on either side of his stomach, splashing rainwater from the puddle onto his face.

Playfully attempting to push Dave's hands away, he laughed at the gesture, a sound so genuine it startled him. He hadn't laughed, not like that, in a long while. He would grin when Dave did something ridiculous, sure, and he would giggle at his jokes on occasions; but a genuine joyful laugh, not so much. And Dave returned the same energy, chuckling as he further splashed Jack's face with water. They were soiled; Jack's makeup was running and almost entirely washed from his face, Dave's oversized clothes stuck to his slender body and his hair clung to his neck and skull. Despite that, they were happy together.

He finally got a grasp on Dave's wrist, fighting against him as he kept reaching for the other. It was Dave's laughter that weakened him, allowing Jack to push him away far enough to slip out from under him. His entire backside was soaked with rain, but he couldn't be bothered as he quickly rose to his feet, kicking water up at Dave who still sat on his knees. He tried to shield himself with his hands, to no avail as he was nearly as soaked by now. Jack laughed again, a heavy weight falling off his chest, as held a hand out to Dave.

They had run away from the station, but it was still close enough for them to hear another train roll up in the same place where it had left, about ten minutes ago. They exchanged a look, before running towards it with fast steps, water splashing up from puddles underneath their soles. They entered through the doors mere moments before the vehicle came in motion again, water dripping from their clothes to the floor. They laughed, they hadn't stopped doing so through the entirety of it, as they heaved for breath. Jack checked where the train was headed and, much to his delight, it was going the desired direction.

Dave ran a hand through his dampened hair, slicking it back as he straightened his posture minimally. Enjoyment was a good look on him, Jack thought as he began wiping at his face. Focused on the remnant of orange foundation that stained his sleeve, he hadn't noticed Dave's staring. To anyone, the decaying skin that was so carefully concealed beneath several pounds of makeup would be disgusting. But not to Dave, who looked all too similar, no. To him it was a special occasion to see Jack in this manner; it almost made him feel as if he was just a tad closer to finding out what Jack contained within the emotional walls he'd built around himself.

"God, I'd almost say those tickets are actually worth their money."

Jack scoffed at his own statement, wiping his face with the shirt he wore. And if that shirt wasn't orange already, it sure would've been by now.

"Oh come on, old sport! You wouldn't have half the fun ya' do now if it weren't fer' bein' broke-!"

Dave deflected, not even attempting to pretend he wasn't staring at where Jack's stomach was exposed due to his shirt riding up. Jack scoffed, then laughed, in response as he knew it was true. That was the thing about Dave, he had come to find. The guy was fun: he could make the worst situations, the worst storms, so enjoyable you'd almost forget what was so horrid about it to begin with. Jack finished wiping the good majority of makeup from his face and fixed his shirt, much to Dave's dismay.

"So, you coming home with me?"

The direct question caught Dave off guard for a brief second, the gentle smile on Jack's face making heat course through his shivering body again. He asked so casually, unknowing of how much of a fascination Jack's life had been to him. Quickly, he regained his deflective humor and crossed his arms:

"Oh, sure old sport, but you could've at least taken me to dinner first-"

He pouted, leaned back against the train with his chin high.

"Best I can do is a cup of coffee and a cigarette tomorrow morning."

Dave's eyes met his, and the look on his face alone gave away the fact that he would devour those two any moment of the day. What's to say, those were epitome of anyone who got drunk more than once a week, which most certainly included the two oddly coloured men.

"I would kill for that."

For that sentence, and that sentence only, Dave's voice dropped to an awfully serious tone. Knowing the man's nature, Jack assumed there was more truth behind that statement than most assumed. Jack, however, held little care towards that and deflected the statement with a sarcastic agreement.

The rest of the train ride was filled with insignificant chatter, mostly discussing what went down at work that day. Matt had vigorously snapped at a child that demanded it was given several prizes, despite not having any tokens to their name. The two had watched how that creepy virgin began to yell at the infant from the stage, dropping the good majority of their performance in favor of some good company-drama. At some point Matt had jumped over the counter, lunging at the child and threatening to strangle it before their boss tore the two apart. Safe to say, it was the laughter-inducing topic of conversation.

Jack's final station wasn't far from where they'd run out, and it only took a short while before they reached it. Him and Dave stepped out, and began the walk towards his house. Luckily he didn't live far from the station, and given both were already soaked; the downpour was of no concern. Drops of rain ran along the bridge of Dave's nose, collecting at the tip of it where it would drop with each step he took. Noone would notice something as insignificant as such, but Jack did each time he looked at Dave, with every particularly loud laugh that caused him to turn his head. It was beautiful to him.

Despite being painstakingly sober, Jack and his shivering hands still struggled to unlock his front door. When he eventually managed to do so, the two stumbled inside with a strong desire for the warmth Jack's home offered. He went and grabbed the both of them a towel, which was already stained with orange makeup anyway, drying themselves off. Jack told Dave to go ahead and take a shower, while he put on something warmer and provided the two with anything akin to dinner. When Dave returned with a few clothes Jack leant him, and sat down on his couch, he had simply reheated leftover pizza from the day before.

They ate together in comfortable silence, watching some show about a vampire and his lover on television. It was a sense of familiarity that didn't actually come forth from nostalgia, but rather from a persistent longing for something he could never have. Sharing his house with Dave was something he had done before, something which brought him comfort and perhaps even love. The way he had leaned against Dave, and the manner in which he had draped his arm over Jack's shoulder in turn, was endearing. They would eat, sleep, work, sometimes even kill, together. There was no denying that; they were partners, in every conceivable way. The thought sickened Jack in ways he could never fully comprehend nor acknowledge.

The pizza had been finished for a while now, but Dave was still warm from his shower and Jack's body took to the heat. He stayed, cuddled to Dave's side, for the entirety of the episode. When the end credits flooded the television he groaned and sat up straight, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The world was cold without Dave to keep him warm.

"Hey, man... I'm going to take a shower as well, you- You can, uh, go ahead and get in bed, if you'd like?"

It was about time for that anyway.

"Oh. Don't you mind sleeping in bed together, old sport?"

Dave desperately hoped the answer to that would be no, already excited at the idea alone.

"Couldn't care less. I'll be there in a bit, yeah?"

"Yeah."

Dave agreed, and the two went their way. While Jack watched the remaining orange makeup run down the drain of his shower, Dave lay comfortably in soft and warm sheets. It only now became evident how much of a toll the day had taken on his soul, and he very quickly felt himself slipping in a state of exhaustion. Even through his attempts to keep his eyes open, hoping to see Jack crawl under the sheets beside him, they fell shut after a few mere minutes.

Jack's smell was pungent around him, filling his nostrils and making his lips curl into a lazy smile. He hugged the sheets, still in the sweatshirt and -pants Jack had given him, content. It was pure coincidence that Jack had been on that train, and that he had even found him, on this particular day. Maybe it was fate that drove them together, an unbreakable tie that caused them to meet in the first place. He liked to think of them as soulbound, destined for eternity.

Dave had drifted in a state vaguely resembling consciousness, floating in all of Jack that concealed him, when the door to his bedroom creaked open. Jack changed into his pajamas given he actually had them on hand, in contrast to a certain purple individual who occupied his bed as of now, before carefully lifting up his sheets. He slipped into bed, ensuring not to wake Dave and halting when he briefly sturred. Without a word, he lay down on the mattress and pulled his duvet to his shoulders.

Not awake enough to produce a response, but somehow conscious enough to register movement; Dave's non-existent heart skipped a beat when Jack wrapped an arm around his waist. He was pulled closer, feeling Jack's body against his own chest, still warm from his earlier shower. In reality it was saddening how he could only show any form of affection when he thought no one would witness it, but Dave was delighted nonetheless. He rested his head in the crook of Jack's neck, his arm wrapping around him to further embrace him.

For a brief moment there was only the sound of their breathing; Dave's low and steady and Jack's just beginning to even out after a heavy sigh. Then, the shifting of fabric and the feeling of Jack raising his head. His arm stayed wrapped around Dave, and he seemed to contemplate something. His body was so full of affection, carefully secured behind his stoic persona, and it needed out in some way. The downside of not being in touch with your feelings and emotions was that it would eventually seep through the cracks of fabrication, most often when tired or intoxicated.

Jack leaned forward, and pressed a gentle kiss to Dave's forehead. If it wasn't for the room being filled with darkness; Jack would have most definitely seen the wide smile on Dave's face when he lay back down against him. It was barely anything, but it filled them both with satisfactory adoration. After the storm, after everything was done and dusted; they would get to lay together, confined within themselves. No matter how horrible it got, they had the other to face any storm, any trouble or trauma that would come to face them. At the end of the day, despite all, they would get to rest together.

It was written in his will that William's grave would be beside his own so that, even then, they would rest together.

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[4853 words]

Thihi sorry about that last line. . ...