14. Nightly swim

Summary: Nightly swim/beach day turned night, Jack is transmasc and Dave is an egg.

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No we're not going to acknowledge that I've only been writing ooc filler episode-themed oneshots as of late I AM COPING

Also I tried to write them and their identities accurate to the time period so sooooorryyyy if things are vague-ish:p

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They were well on their way to Vegas by now. Between Jack's speeding habit and Dave's insomnia allowing him to drive nights; they'd made great progress in less than a day. They'd stopped by a gas station in the morning, relishing in the taste of their lewd-warm hamburgers which they ate out on the curb. After that Jack had taken the wheel and insisted that Dave would go and nap on the passenger seat, even though he kept attempting to strike conversation. He had no idea how that man managed to function on so little sleep, but his zombie-like appearance must have had something to do with it.

Once Dave was finally knocked out cold, he slept and snored for hours on end; Fredbear knows he needed it. The sun rose high along the road, beads of sweat pooling on Jack's forehead. As he exited the highway, Dave stirred awake beside him once more. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes with the meat of his palm, blinking back into consciousness. Rolling past a few rural roads in order to reach the next freeway they'd be stuck on for the afternoon; they came across a beach by a lake.

Dave, who seemed properly woken up now, also began noting how warm it'd become. He let his eyes drift over the crowds of people sprawled out on beach towels, an occasional disruption where one had gone to swim in the cooling water. Immediately, in classic Dave fashion, he enthusiastically pointed a finger at the scenery; ultimately blocking Jack's view with his absurdly long limb. It seemed he had one of his ever so enlightening ideas.

"Let's go to the beach, old sport!"

Jack swatted his arm away, gripping the wheel just a tad too harsh for his quick and definite answer to be meaningless:

"No."

He said, keeping his eyes fixed straight ahead. Dave sat back and pouted for a minute or so, before his eyes returned to the sand. Having sat in Jack's, admittedly musty, car all night; Dave was insistent on a refreshment of any kind. The cigarettes they'd smoked in the vehicle had given it a stuffy feeling, clogging his lungs even further.

"Old sport, come on..."

He whined, narrowing his eyes at Jack; who gave no reaction.

"Sportsyyy-"

A subtle twitch of his upper lip in annoyance, and a brief glance to his side that would go unnoticed by anyone who wasn't Dave. He knew that variation of his nickname did something to Jack, he could tell by his body language. That was the thing: Jack wouldn't speak his feelings outright, so Dave had begun to study the different forms of communication that were present in his body.

"It's boiling hot, it'll just be a quick refreshment!"

With surprising aggression; Jack steered his car onto the sidewalk, coming to a halt mere feet in front of a woman who cursed at them before walking away with a quick pace. Jack killed his engine, turning his upper body towards Dave.

"I'm not going to the beach, David."

"But why not, old sport?"

He tore his eyes away from Dave's, only becoming aware of the intense glare when he had shifted from it. Briefly turning back to the beach, he let his eyes run over the mass of sparsely dressed people: tiny bikinis, shorts that drove up until the thighs, and not a shirt in sight. He could hardly look at himself in the mirror every morning, so how could he begin to fathom what other people's reactions would be. But how would he, a person who had been nothing but void of emotion, be open and vulnerable enough to vocalize that to Dave?

"We didn't bring swimming trunks, now did we?"

Given they were wanted criminals, and all, they hadn't exactly bothered to pack anything before driving off. Hell, both had been wearing these exact clothes since yesterday and weren't planning to change until they could get their hands on some Hawaiian shirts up in Vegas.

"Ya wearin' underwear, ain't 'cha old sport? Shit's basically the same thing!"

In reaction to his words, he hooked a finger behind Jack's waistband. Before he was able to snap it, Jack had already furious slapped him away. He had a point that would have convinced him, if he was actually concerned about swim wear rather than his appearance. Jack considered himself a shell of his former, human, self. He hated that he had to smother himself in orange makeup day after day, only to appear the slightest more human. What hadn't worn away from being in the car for hours on end, was sure to wash away in the water. The horrors of his own body, which he had so carefully concealed behind a facade; exposed to the unsuspecting public. They would see what a zombie he was, they'd discover the remorseless meatsack that hid behind poorly applied concealer.

"Dave-"

That, and, he still hadn't told Dave. It'd come as a surprise when he somehow hadn't figured it out during their first stay in Vegas; Jack had been fully convinced he would have had to come out then. His voice faltered:

"I just- I don't want everyone and their mother having to see a fuckin' zombie on their day out, okay?"

He'd been around Dave for a long while now, and given he talked Jack's ear off at any given chance; he began to subconsciously pick up on his accent. It hung especially thick around the word fucking.

"Who's the zombie in this situation old sport, you or me?"

Dave asked, with a bit of humor in his voice despite his question being genuine. Jack pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance, stumbling over his words:

"Me! I mean- You too, but... Both?"

"Why should you care about those randos?! It's a damned public beach, old sport!"

Dave had much less shame than he did, or atleast; so it appeared. Where Jack spent hours on his makeup every morning, Dave seemed to have not a care in the world for the state of his body. Jack assumed it was only some sort of natural progress: once your body reached the state Daves was in, there was no saving it anyway and it became easier to simply accept and enjoy your fate. That, and Dave was not always the brightest in sociology.

"Listen- I'm not like you, I don't want to go. If you want to cool off that bad you can go, and I'll wait in here."

Dave sank back in his seat, admittedly defeated but attempting to not to let it show in Jack's favor. He shot a comforting smile towards him, trying to empathize with Jack's discomfort.

"It's all good sportsy, I didn't realize it was such a big deal to ya... We can keep on driving."

Jack said nothing and turned the engine back on, which roared to life underneath them. As he pulled back on the streets and muttered an affirmative confirmation to Dave, he could only think about how he had avoided the topic again. His state between death and undeath was one thing; he had Dave to share the experience there. But in his identity he was alone again because unlike him; Dave'd been born male, Fredbear knows he'd seen proof of that before. Jack intended to have just told him within his first week of being acquainted with Dave, but he found himself pushing it further into the future. And somehow, through quickly changing behind his back, he had also failed to see the additional scars that ran along Jack's chest, or the lack of length in his boxers.

He wasn't scared Dave would invalidate him, or even view him any other way at all, but he didn't want to feel different again. That was something that would forever resonate with him; being undeniably and irreversibly different from anyone. He couldn't relate to the managers with his spinglock accident, they hardly contained a memory of the authentic person they once were. Dave was the only one who was like him in that field, and yet he had his identity set him apart once more. He hardly knew of anyone who felt the same, resources were limited and his surgery had already been butchered as there were only so few doctors who even recognised his desire to transition into male.

He was thankful when Dave began to ramble about the engaging topic of whether or not Chica was a duck, because Jack noticed his thoughts began to spiral. It was easy not to think of how his identity defied him in ways he thought no one would come to understand, when he had someone like Dave to talk his ear off. After a while he began returning snarky comments, and the two would burst out in laughter again like the whole thing hadn't happened. They ate in a cafeteria by the road, and Dave took the wheel again for the coming night. Concentrating on the road and squinting his eyes against the sun all day had exhausted Jack, and he curled up into the passenger's seat almost immediately. For several hours, Dave drove them safely through the night.

"Old sport! Sportsy, wake up-!"

It must have been around two at night, when Dave nudged Jack awake again. He came to with the necessary bit of difficulty, mumbling as he tried to comprehend where exactly he was. The car had come to a stop, which could only mean two things in his tired mind:

"Wuh- Are we there already...? Are we out of gas?"

Dave only smiled at him with that signature sleepless grin plastered across his face, pointing out their front window. Jack's eyes took a second to adjust to the dark surroundings, squinting as he came to realize they were parked in front of a beach. It was smaller than the one they'd passed earlier today, located by a medium sized lake with a raft not far off shore. Dave must have passed here by coincidence, having decided that it was the perfect place now that everyone was sound asleep in their homes.

"Oh- Oh no, Dave, I-"

"Isn't it perfect old sport, we have the place all to ourselves! No one to worry about, we can just-"

It was a thoughtful gesture in Dave's own weird sense of the word, he would see that in retrospect, but in this moment his voice became a buzzing afterthought. He couldn't make excuses for himself anymore, not now, and he was definitely too tired to comprehend what that meant for him.

"But you'll still be here-"

He thought out loud, causing Dave to momentarily fall silent and shoot him a confused look. Jack wasn't someone who was very open about himself, but Dave had assumed that he should have been comfortable enough to stay in his underwear around him by now.

"Are you worried about me seein' ya naked...? You know I'd never think weird of ya' old sport!"

"No, no it's not that-"

Jack was quick to interrupt, not acknowledging the fact that Dave suggested going swimming in his birthday suit. The look in his eyes was so empathic it made Jack's emotions falter, struggling over his words. He felt bad for having held up the idea so long, for procrastinating because of a problem that was entirely introspective.

"My body's not like yours."

He settled, pushing back the tight feeling that began building in his chest. Barely understanding why he felt so nervous, he briefly glanced up at the puzzled expression on Dave's face.

"Ya know those springlocks got me as well, right sportsy?"

His voice was so incredibly soft, sounding convinced in having found the origin of his dysphoria. It suggested that, at some point when his body was still relatively intact, he must have felt similar.

"I know, that's not-"

He swallowed, hard.

"I wasn't born a man, Dave."

He sincerely hoped he hid the crack in his voice well enough. The overwhelming desire to cry was new to Jack, he could hardly remember the last time he experienced something like that. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to actually do so; instead staring to the beach ahead with a heavy chest and a pounding head.

"Oh-"

The tone in Dave's voice was hard to read, but his expression spoke primarily of surprise. Upon seeing the hurt look on Jack's face, he quickly made a recovery and brought a cheerful tone back to his voice:

"Is that all? You know I don't care, right? You'll always be the tangerine to my aubergine!"

He put his hand to his heart to accompany his words, observing as Jack's shoulders lost their tension.

"So, what're you packing then, old sport?"

Jack scoffed in response to the utterly ridiculous question, attempting but failing to hide the fact that he humored the statement as his body grew relaxed again. It was just like he'd told himself; Dave wouldn't give less of a shit. He'd built it up to a big occasion by procrastinating, and yet his rational reasoning seemed correct above all.

"So much for taking me out to dinner first-"

He laughed, which cued a smile on Dave's end. He wouldn't have thought of Jack any differently, every person had their own authenticity and he wasn't one to disrespect that. If anything, he was upset that he wasn't able to make Jack feel comfortable enough to have come out earlier.

"I got my chest removed long ago, just before I met you for the first time, actually... But there's not a lot of doctors willing to do that, so it was done poorly and the scars are still visible- The rest are all lady-bits."

"I see!"

Dave rubbed his stubbly chin, seemingly in thought.

"Does that make you feel better, old sport?"

The question was odd. Jack didn't think about his feelings, he hardly had them to begin with. Whenever someone inquired about them, he usually brushed it off with a dismissive joke of some sort, but the situation felt too serious for that.

"Yeah-"

He breathed, and he really did feel better. Although Dave may not have fully understood, and they were far from the same; he was enthusiastically accepting.

"Well then, you wanna go swimming with me, sportsy?"

He was so painfully sweet with it. He really shouldn't be thinking this fondly of Dave, he briefly thought to himself before he shook the thought and answered:

"Yeah."

Dave happily jumped from his seat and threw open the door, and Jack followed wordlessly. It was comforting; not many people had known about that part of him and he liked it that way, but all secrets were doomed to spill. The harder you tried to contain something within yourself, the more you thought about it and the more you felt the desire for recognition.

"Old sport, catch!"

Dave's voice dragged him from his vague train of thought, looking up to see a towel being thrown towards him, which he managed to catch at the very last second. Dave had apparently discovered a lost and found cabinet by the beach, and promptly stolen two towels from it. When he approached nearer, he also noticed the bright pink goggles Dave now wore around his neck, and scoffed.

The night sky was surprisingly clear, stars visible and the nearly full moon illuminating a still lake that was only occasionally disrupted by small ripples from a duck or swan. As Jack took off his shoes and carried them in hand, he felt his feet sink into the cold sand. He trailed behind Dave, watching him throw his towel around his neck and wondering just how he managed to convince him into whatever madness he came up with time and time again. Maybe it was that dumb smile; the way his voice would sometimes sound so genuinely caring when he used that everlasting nickname, the way he didn't think any less of Jack no matter what he did or said, maybe-

He'd hardly noticed that they'd crossed the beach and arrived where water met with sand, soaking it a darker color. Matter of fact, Jack would have walked straight into it if it wasn't for Dave stopping his tracks, dropping his towel to the ground and beginning to work the buttons on his shirt. Jack followed, and the feeling of being shirtless around Dave felt far less foreign than he'd expected. Dave looked him in the eyes, with that same enthusiasm as always, rather than the scars on his chest. He was comfortable around Dave, something he'd never held possible but something that felt liberating regardless.

His eyes darted around the scenery; a line of trees across from the lake, a gentle breeze making the leaves rustle. If it wasn't for Dave, he would've never seen this; never felt this admiration. He inhaled, a deep breath in which his nicotine induced lungs briefly cleansed themselves. His attention was drawn back by the sound of Dave stepping in the water and, much to his surprise upon looking towards him, he found the man was entirely naked aside from the goggles around his neck.

"Jesus, dude!"

He turned his eyes towards the beach, shielding his face as his gaze met the pile of Dave's clothes laying beside their towels. Dave turned around, his slender body on full display as he crossed his arms before him.

"Come on in old sport, the water's fine!"

"You could've given me a warning first-!"

He yelled back towards Dave, still refusing to look back at him in fear of what he might see. The man was outlandish, and he honestly should have been surprised that he'd never been outright flashed before. Behind him, he could hear the splashing of water as Dave presumably walked in further.

"Sportsy, learn to have a little fun!"

His voice was more distant this time, and didn't sound as if it was speaking in a direct line towards him. This is what prompted Jack to finally turn back around, just barely catching a glimpse of Dave's backside before his hips vanished underwater. He watched as the other gently let his hands go through the water, seemingly at perfect peace. Jack simply sighed, and started to unbutton his pants, which quickly joined the frayed pile in which his shirt lay. He'd intended to just get in in his underwear, but came to a halt right before his feet hit the water. He had not packed anything, including underwear, and sitting ass-out in his jeans wasn't particularly appealing. Maybe Dave had a valid reason for going naked, after all.

"Can you- Can you keep looking ahead of you?"

"Can do, old sport!"

Dave's answer was immediate and certain, his hands now planted on his sides. With one final look over, Jack shed his boxers and stepped foot in the water. He made quick work of walking in deeper, not having allowed himself to be this exposed around someone for a long while. And the weirdest thing was that he did it voluntarily; Dave wasn't as pushy as you'd expect him to be, and he initiated things like these all on his own accord. The man in question kept looking ahead of him, as promised, and soon enough the water reached up until Jack's stomach. With his lower half protected by the dark water, he hugged his chest and approached Dave to stand beside him.

His body had already adjusted to the temperature of the night, and the water wasn't as bad as he'd expected. For a brief moment they fell in comfortable silence, listening to the sounds of water clashing against the shore and observing the scenery. It was almost ethereal, the way the moonlight embraced the treeline, reflecting on the water in a beautiful manner. The sky was surprisingly clear, and if Jack looked up he could practically count the stars against the dark void of space. A deep sigh escaped his lips, and tension vanished from his shoulders.

Of course, it was short-lasted, as Dave put the goggles he'd stolen over his eyes and dove into the water with a jump that splashed up at Jack. He was glad that Dave vanished underwater, as he could not contain the surprised yelp that escaped his throat. A vague purple hue swam away from him underwater, and that was the last he saw of Dave for a concerning amount of time. He wasn't worried for the first half, but after a while he began to scan the surface for any sign of the man. Just as he was about to yell out, he popped up a concerningly far distance ahead of him, those same bright pink goggles still on his head.

"What the fuck, Dave!"

He exclaimed, not giving notion to the fact he'd experienced genuine worry over Dave.

"Sportsy!"

The bittersweet effect of that nickname took hold and he nearly forgot why he was mad at him.

"Come over here!"

Watching Dave wave to him and hang his goggles around his neck, he failed to register that he was treading water rather than standing on the ground. With a grumble and a reluctant confirmation, he walked further from shore in Dave's direction. It'd clearly been a recreational spot; it couldn't have been that deep, Jack thought to himself as he stepped forward through the sand. He hissed through the gap between his teeth as the cold water embraced his chest, providing for a tight feeling. Once the water was around his neck, he looked back up only to see that the lake had been steeper than expected and Dave was still a good ten feet away. For some reason, he had not taken into consideration that Dave was a far better swimmer than he was.

"I think you're going to have to come back here, I can't-"

In the moment of speaking towards Dave, his mind failed to register the distraction and he took another step forward. The ground dipped below his feet and he toppled face first into the cold water, his mouth filling up with the liquid before he was able to finish his sentence. He'd stepped into some steep hole of sorts, losing his balance and being surrounded by nothing but water for an excruciatingly long second. Because he fell inconveniently, he couldn't tell up from down, left from right, and helplessly searched for any point of recognition with his hands and feet.

Once he noticed the splashing, Dave quickly swam over. Just as he arrived, Jack's foot found the bottom of the lake again and he quickly regained stability and walked backward, his eyes screwed shut as he coughed up water. Once he was at a safe height where only his abdomen and legs were underwater, he calmed down and looked towards Dave, who was desperately trying to hide the grin that threatened to creep up on his face.

"Old sport, you never told me you couldn't swim-?"

"Why would I tell you that?!"

Jack seemed angry, moreso at himself than towards Dave, but furious nonetheless. He hadn't wanted for someone, anyone, to see him like that, especially not Dave. It was an aspected where he lacked, where he fell out of norm, and where he felt unsure. To be unable to do something at all, no matter how hard you try and try, is infuriating. No matter how hard he tried to experience feelings like he once did; he couldn't anymore. He hated that it made him feel powerless, it felt like drowning.

"I mean, why wouldn't you old sport?"

Dave swam towards him, keeping his body underwater from the neck down and pulling himself further along with his hands in the sand.

"Because it's 'nun of your business, aubergine."

He wiped water and makeup from his face, anger converting to his usual stoic defense. Just as Dave's face came dangerously close to Jack's happy trail, he rose from the water in one swift movement and stood up straight before the other. Jack had to consciously tell himself not to look down between them, where the waterline was concerningly close to exposing Dave's manhood.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of, sport! I can teach you, if ya' ask nicely~"

He winked, and Jack slowly nodded, failing in suppressing the slight blush that crept to his face. Surely, it was the temperature of the water getting to him. Dave had said it so easily, like it was second nature to him; like he could make Jack feel experiences that he hadn't felt since '73. And maybe he actually could, maybe his influence on the practically emotionless Jack was so strong that it could change his nature.

"I'd rather drown than ask you anything nicely."

And yet, he couldn't bring himself to actually ask. The emotionlessness, while involuntarily reigned down upon him by the force of countless springlocks and a golden bear deity, was also a defense mechanism of sorts. He couldn't, so he wouldn't, and that helped him through everyday life, somehow.

"Well, then I'll teach you anyway, sportsy!"

It made his heart flutter, and he hated the foreign feeling. He did it all so effortlessly; he was barely trying to have this effect on Jack and yet he was conflicted with every minute he spent with Dave. The man was addicting, because of what he made him feel, because he made Jack realize what he'd been missing for over a decade now. And the effort he put in Jack, no matter how defensive or dismissive he got, was unmatched. He didn't truly hate him like he tried to convince himself he did; he simply hated that he loved him.

Dave took his hand and dragged him back towards the deep end, snapping him from his derailed train of thought. That was the thing, too; he was never allowed to think for long around Dave, for better or for worse. He liked it, he liked the momentary distraction Dave brought upon his otherwise stale life, and because of that alone he followed. Dave led him until the water reached up to his collarbones, where he let go of his hand and turned to face him.

"So, firstly-!"

Dave, who stood further out of the water because of his absurd height, raised his arms above the surface. For the next approximate half an hour or so, Dave very carefully taught Jack the basic maneuvers of the breaststroke. With the necessary clapback in the form of splashes and curses, Jack slowly began to pick up on the idea of it. Somehow the countless attempts of his own did not compare to Dave's instructions in any way, and he found himself relying thoughtlessly on the man.

He didn't retreat, he wouldn't want to, not when he was suddenly met with emotion he thought he'd lost. A body functioning merely on a soul, with its only reason for existing being its own strong emotion, was quick to have an effect on a soulless vessel that had no direction. Jack sometimes considered that his lack of a soul, his lack of emotional willpower, made him influenceable. But when he looked at Dave, when he really made the effort to see him, he forgot about all those worries.

"Okay, now- Swim over here old sport!"

He swam away from Jack on his back, waiting for him to step in the deep. It was foreign and terrifying, Dave was all he had ever steered clear of, and yet he took the leap. With a bit of sputtering he swam towards Dave, who enthusiastically followed alongside him. He had failed to remember to teach Jack how to thread water, so he instead pointed to the raft that lay a little further offshore, encouraging Jack to swim towards it.

With a bit of difficulty, he made it to the raft and hung from it, breathing heavy. It was a medium-sized wooden platform, made for kids to swim to and jump from during the daytime. Dave, not having as much shame to his name, climbed up on it by the ladder attached to its side. Jack did no longer bother to shift his gaze from Dave's naked body, he didn't seem bothered by it anyway. He stretched before his eyes met Jack's, gesturing for him to exit the water as well.

"Why don't you come on up here, sportsy?"

His voice was gentle, curious, as if he'd already forgotten again. Jack eyed Dave, briefly studying his features, before scanning the surroundings. They were completely alone; he could be vulnerable. He swam to the ladder and hoisted his body up on the raft. It didn't feel as odd to be naked around Dave as he'd expected, and for the first time that evening; he didn't instinctively cross his arms over his chest to hide his scars.

"Watch this!"

Dave exclaimed, again drawing Jack's attention. He darted across the wooden platform, making a long dive back into the water. Jack couldn't help but laugh when Dave returned to the surface, bright pink goggles that were once over his eyes now severely dislocated. As Dave swam back to the ladder, Jack sat himself on the edge of the raft with his legs hanging in the water. Dave returned, continuing to ask Jack to watch his tricks and landing painfully on his back several times.

He watched, with a saddening smile on his face. It was hilarious to see, but he also knew he would never be able to himself. No matter how much Dave subconsciously influenced him, no matter how long he stuck around him; he would never feel like he once did. Telling himself that he would, or even so much as could, was merely a temporary bandage on a wound that would never heal.

It was a sense of doom beyond saddening.

Dave took no notice of the tear that began to form in the crease of his eye, and cannonballed in the water directly in front of Jack. He couldn't help but laugh through the tears and water that splashed up on his face, wiping it away with the back of his hand altogether. His laugh was confident, genuine; because there was still joy in Dave's emotions despite all. Those goggles really looked ridiculous on him.

"Jump in!"

Dave encouraged him as he made the notion of standing up.

"I probably shouldn't, I-"

"You don't know until you try old sport!"

He huffed in response and contemplated the idea in his mind, but his body had already taken a step back. His foot followed, and before his mind registered it, he was charging for the water. His jump was anything but gracious and the water was harsh on his body, but before the ink swallowed him whole he could hear Dave cheer, and that alone was worth it.

At first the disorientation returned. A black void with no sense of direction nor weight, surrounding him from all sides. Then he found himself reaching forward, breaking through the surface of the water. All he needed to return back to regularity was a one panicked breath, and he again once swam forward. Dave followed, and together they swam back to shore.

They arrived safely back to land, and agreed that it was about time to get back on the road by now. As they dried themselves with their stolen towels, dusting sand off their clothes, Jack realized that Dave had taught him something. A simple thing, one of many, which in no way meant he was anywhere near professional or even average; but something nonetheless. He seemed to be the only one who could manage this, no substance and no other person had done that for him. Dave had taught him adoration, he realized as he tore his gaze from the man's back.

"Hey, um-"

He should voice his thoughts, right?

"That was really nice, thank you..."

It took Dave a moment to respond, given he was struggling to pull his shirt over his head. When he finally managed to poke his head through the correct hole, both were dressed aside from their shoes and socks.

"Of course sportsy-"

He felt his face fluster, again met with that feeling of adoration reinforcing itself.

"I'm glad ya' had fun as well!"

They walked back to the car together, side by side, with a content feeling in their heart and soul. Not bothering to return their towels and Dave's goggles to the lost and found table they had stolen it from; they returned to Jack's car. As they wiped their feet and put their shoes back on, Jack offered to drive the rest of the night considering he'd already slept and felt rather awake. Dave nodded gratefully, and both took their respective seats to drive off into the night.

Jack had expected Dave to curl up into an inhuman position and drift off to uneasy sleep, as per usual, but as he looked to his side he was met with a puzzled look. Long slender fingers toyed with the fabric of an unwashed shirt, eyes seemingly out of focus. Jack recognised that look; Dave was deep in thought. He wondered what could be so puzzling at this hour of day, wondering if it was anything to do with all that had just happened. Just as the thought of it having to do with his coming out crossed his mind, a confirmative question rose from the passenger seat:

"Did you always know you were a boy...?"

It was careful, curious, but most of all; fragile. Initially, Jack sighed; he'd gotten the question so many times from people who were only out to invalidate him that it was essentially second nature. He was about to deflect from the question when he looked to his side, and something brooding in Dave's eyes told Jack that he needed to answer this:

"Not exactly, I- I think I had the realization when I was fourteen, maybe fifteen...? Your sex doesn't really develop until you're a teen, so I never really thought about it when I was a kid. I was too busy startin' fires, I guess."

"Oh-"

Dave's tone gave away that this wasn't the desired answer, or that it didn't provide enough clarity, at least.

"But then, how did ya' realize-?"

It was only now that Jack had begun to pick up on the seriousness of Dave's questions, and the absence of that everlasting nickname two whole sentences in a row. He turned to Dave, and witnessed the same confusion he saw on his own teenage face when he was presented with a mirror decades ago. He couldn't figure out the reason for it yet, and for a moment he considered that he might be getting fucked with. With his eyes on the road ahead of them, he answered the question in a confused manner:

"I just- I don't know! It felt horrible when my mom told me I had to cover my chest, when all they could see was what made me a girl, I just hated it. It felt nice having people call me a boy, see me as a boy, to the point where I felt like it was who I actually was- It's just that, all of it... Do you understand-?"

"I understand."

Silence fell, not comfortably in any sense, but rather apprehensive. Jack could tell there had to be more; Dave's answer was too immediate and too certain. Along with that, there was no deflective humor being used, as was the norm with Dave. The egg was tearing, showing cracks.

"Do you think someone could have that realization later in life?"

The question rose from beside him, and Jack saw the mental image of an eggshell cracking before him. He knew what Dave was getting at, he saw himself in all the uncertainty that coated the heavy New Yorkers accent.

"Yes, I do. Why do you ask?"

His answer was certain, he just had to get the reaction from Dave.

"It sounds familiar, the way you-"

She swallowed, hard.

"The way you describe it, I- I know exactly what you mean, I think-"

She fumbled her words, still restlessly toying with a loose thread of her shirt. Jack saw it, before she said it. He saw himself in her exactly like he did in himself, yet entirely opposite. He was honored that Dave had trusted him enough to share something so heartfelt, dropping the fabricated humoristic defense.

"I think I feel the same, but- Just, the other way around...?"

If she really came to think of it, she'd find that it was logical that she only found out now. A homeless child, whose only concern was whether or not she would eat dinner tonight, had little time to concern herself over things like these. Even with Henry, she focused more on gaining his approval than her own well being and identity to have discovered. Here beside Jack, free of company contract, there was finally space to unpack herself.

"Is- Is that possible-"

She pleaded, and Jack didn't have to tear his eyes from the road to know there were tears in her eyes. He remembered how he cried to his parents, a teenager filled to the brim with uncertainty, and he knew exactly how not to react. Instead, he steadied his voice and answered his passenger with a gentle tone:

"Of course that's possible- Do you want me to call you by her instead of him...?"

"Yes, I-"

Her voice raised from beside him, the very second he asked the question. In a split second, memories came rushing back to her: memories of strangers who gave her money on the streets, who addressed her as a girl because of her long hair at the time, memories of how it made her feel alright for once in her little life.

"-I would really like that."

Finally, she stopped toying with the thread on her shirt and laid her hands in her lap.

"What about your name?"

She hadn't even considered the question of her name before Jack asked it, and was suddenly conflicted again. It was a masculine name, that was for certain, but it had weight to it. It was the name of Henry's son, which she considered herself to be to an extent, but it was that; the name of a son. Still, she couldn't say farewell to it so easily, and there was no obvious adaptation for it. Even so; maybe Jack was in a place where he didn't connect it to the son she once pretended to be. There was a lot to contemplate, but the decision for tonight was made:

"I'll keep it, for now. Is that okay?"

"Yes! You don't have to ask if it's okay, not when it's about you-"

"Thank you old sport, really-"

Dave responded, a smile returning to her face. The tension was gone, and Jack now felt relief and enjoyment radiating from beside him. He'd always known there was something up with Dave, he'd just never made the connection to her gender identity, although it made sense looking back now.

"Don't mention it, I get it! We'll get you some dresses and whatnot in Vegas, yeah?"

"Hah! Wouldn't you like to see me in one, sportsy~"

She responded in a joking manner, but she was happy to know Jack was willing to help her get gender affirming clothing. Jack, in turn, felt his heartbeat increase at the gentle tone Dave pronounced the nickname in. It felt intimate, more so than it had when the both were naked on that raft moments earlier. He was there for this discovery, and Dave had chosen to share it with him almost immediately. Upon remembering how alone he felt as a young boy, he was happy he could be there for Dave, who had crawled up into a ball in the seat beside him.

It didn't take long for her to find a comfortable position, dreamily staring towards Jack as sleep began to grip her. Dave thanked him again, purely out of habit, before saying her goodnites and closing her eyes. Left to be accompanied by the humm of his engine, Jack drove through the night and for the first time in decades; he felt happy. Truly happy, not ignorant in his problems and anxieties, but confident that he could take it, with her by his side.

Vegas couldn't come soon enough.

-

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[6816 words]

It will take about ten more years for Jack to realize and acknowledge that the adoration Dave 'taught' him is, in fact, him being in love. Giggles.

Transfem Dave isn't my personal headcanon and I struggled to think of ways to insert it but to that one person in my ao3 comments; I see you, I hear you. Don't think she'll return, but we'll never know!

Anywho, system notification: school started again for me and I'm currently in my last year which will mean I'll get BOMBARDED with final exams, so posting might thin out soon!!! Reqs still open tho>:p