20. Fast 'n Furious

Summary: The skittles go street racing for a little extra cash, but police involvement makes things heated. Could be read as crack treated seriously but it's more so Dave being his natural self. No smut included but it gets fairly heated and there's both serious and non-serious mentions of sex, but aye it's a davesport story what did you really expect?

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You'll be displeased to find out that this was inspired by that one dsmp fanfiction. Yes, that one. I feel shame too.

I have allowed myself ONE (1!) self indulgent thingy. I need them to be gay OKAY

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It had been approximately one week and two days, before they completely ran out of cash. Between gambling and attending events far above their budgets, it was doomed to be of short notice. Jack feared it couldn't be much longer before their motel kicked them out on the streets, something he dreaded greatly. But, in typical Miller-fashion, Dave already had thought of a solution to this problem.

He had spent an entire night in a car graveyard, scrambling for components in whatever vehicle was still relatively intact, then storing them in the trunk of his own car. Given they couldn't afford to go out during the day, Dave spent it attaching all his findings to his car. Jack watched from his motel window as he sat out on the street, astounded at what Dave could do with only a screwdriver and a roll of tape.

That was the thing about Dave; he was a genius in disguise, Jack felt dubious that there was anything he couldn't do. He worked with catlike precision and his machines hardly faltered, even when they seemed tacky as could be. When looking at him, Jack couldn't help but wonder how he had acquired such skill, especially since he was almost certain Dave was borderline illiterate.

It was around midway through the day, when Jack exited their room and headed over to Dave. He'd worked out in the sun continuously, his car almost unrecognizable by now, and was surely dehydrated from the effort. Jack tapped a bottle of water on his shoulder, snapping him out of his transfixed state. Dave shifted his gaze from where it lay on the exhaust to Jack, gratefully taking the bottle from his extended hand.

"So, what exactly are you planning to do?"

Jack asked as Dave unscrewed the cap to his bottle, greedily gulping down a large majority of the contents. He shoved a flier into Jack's hands, wiping his mouth without a word. Street race, it read, with a grand prize of one thousand dollars promised to the winner.

"You're going to compete?"

Jack asked, with just a little disbelief in his voice. Dave nodded eagerly, setting the now empty bottle aside as he picked his tools back up.

"We're goin' to compete sportsy, and win!"

Dave beamed brightly, taking the flier back from Jack's hands and eagerly skimming over it. He had pulled it from a pole by the side of the road, uncaring for how obviously illegal it was; not like he hadn't done worse, anyway.

"Pfft, yeah, with this thing?"

Jack scoffed and gestured towards Dave's heavily modified car, setting his hands on his hips. He had a lot of trust in Dave's skills with machinery, but not enough to convince him that he could win with this abomination. Dave's car worked fine, but the salvaged components could not bring it to the same level as someone with a professional racecar. Dave thought differently about that, and spoke with enthusiasm:

"Oh you bet your sweet ass this thing's got some real power in it now, old sport. Besides, I've already signed us up!"

Jack eyed Dave's car; it still looked mundane despite all the modifications Dave had done. But, then again, he didn't exactly have anything to lose. At best they'd come out of there with money to fill another week, and at worst they'd have wasted a night. He had already nodded in approval before he spoke the words:

"Alright then. When is this race?"

"Tonight, at twelve!"

Dave was truly an unpredictable man, preparing for an event like that the day in advance. Hell, it was less than ten hours away from now and he was still working on his car. It was better than spending another night moping around the motel, Jack had to admit.

"Right- Okay. Are you going to be done in time?"

Dave nodded eagerly, holding up something that Jack presumed to be an exhaust pipe. He didn't know a lot about cars, or machinery in general, so he was glad when Dave gave him an explanation:

"I'm just givin' my exhaust an upgrade, shouldn't be much longer after this old sport!"

"Sure. I'll scramble together something to eat for us, while you're doing that."

He really had no trust in Dave and his supposed race car, turning to head back into the motel to busy himself with more fruitful activities. For a few hours he let Dave do his thing, shoplifting two packs of instant noodles in the meantime. By the time he came inside, covered in grease and whatnot, Jack already had water boiling. They ate together and Dave rushed to shower, falling dead asleep once he got out. He needed his rest for his focus tonight, he told Jack as he set an alarm.

And that was how Jack found himself walking through rows of cars in the middle of the night, crowded by people. Dave's car looked unimposing in comparison to the majority of them, but he was surprised to find a variety of standard models among them. Groups of competitors gathered around their respective vehicles, discussing tactics and things in that nature. Dave held conversation with several of them, going over the planned route, as Jack aimlessly wandered around. He was still wondering how he'd let himself be roped into this, when someone called out through a megaphone:

"Racers one through five, take your places!"

The mass around him thinned out significantly, five cars driving towards the front lines. Jack decided to head back to Dave, as they were assigned number seven and would be up next. The race was separated in three groups, of which everyone would timed individually to determine the winner. The countdown already began when Jack leaned himself against the car beside Dave.

"Welp. Goodluck, aubergine man."

He spoke, watching the five cars take off. Dave looked towards him, confusion on his face:

"You're not comin' with-?"

The question made Jack raise an eyebrow and cock his head at Dave:

"I thought racers were supposed to go alone? Something with additional weight slowing them down, I heard someone say just now-"

"Well, there's no rules against it- And with what I've done to this baby, we're gunna need the weight to slow us down..."

Dave said, patting the roof of his car. When the man behind the megaphone called for racers six through ten, Jack didn't inquire any further when Dave held the passenger door open for him. He sat down and Dave slammed his door shut, taking his own place behind the wheel. As they rolled up to the start, Jack quickly buckled his seatbelt in fear of Dave's car falling apart the moment they'd take off.

"Are you sure this is safe-?"

Jack carefully asked as two cars took their places beside them. Upon seeing Dave's tensed posture and the manic grin on his face, Jack began bracing himself.

"No fuckin' clue old sport!"

As Dave spoke, their countdown began. Their engine revved below them and a sparsely dressed woman raised checkered flags, setting every nerve in Dave's body on edge. Before Jack could so much as blink, their starting signal sounded and they shot forward. Dave accelerated dangerously fast, shifting gears frantically as he immediately surpassed everyone in the line. Jack had to hold himself down when Dave took the first sharp turn, drifting as if he had years of experience.

Once again, he had learned not to underestimate Dave and his abilities the hard way. They raced through a long street, the other cars trailing behind them as Dave pressed the gas to the floor. Jack was fairly certain he heard a bang in the exhaust above the loud rumble of their engine, but decided to pay it no mind in favor of holding on for dear life. As they crossed over more rural roads leading into Vegas, several pedestrians jumped away from their effort to cross the street. What they were doing was illegal at best and lethal at worst.

"Dude!"

Jack had almost missed the sound of sirens because of their loud engine, nervously glancing in the rear view mirror. Dave was transfixed on the road ahead, hands tightly gripping the wheel.

"Police!"

He exclaimed, pointing at the rearview mirror where red and blue lights flickered. Once Dave snapped back to reality, he was set in motion immediately. He took a dangerously sharp turn into a dense area of the city, barely averting several crashes. The other cars surpassed their turn, one of many police cars taking their route. Upon noticing this, Dave took several other turns before shooting into a narrow alleyway. He immediately killed his engine, ducking low and forcing Jack to follow with a hand behind his head. Outside of their alley the police car passed them by.

"Remind me again why I let you convince me into this?!"

Jack exclaimed once the sirens had died down, sitting back up. He was tense all through, a tremble to his hands. Dave seemed much the same, one of his hands still clutching the wheel.

"Fuck- The prize money old sport, the fuckin' money-"

His voice had a tremor, laying his forehead on the wheel as he released a hefty breath. Jack pinched the bridge of his nose, only just calming down himself.

"You think they'll come looking for us?"

Jack asked, his voice more mediated this time around. Dave gave no response aside from turning his radio on, where a woman's voice croaked to life:

"-just informed that the majority of racers have been caught, but the police are still looking for three cars with the following descriptions: a black BMW, a red sports car, and what appears like a Volvo with a passenger inside. If you have any information regarding-"

Dave shut the radio down again, very obviously having heard his own car described.

"Well, fuck."

Jack concluded dryly, and continued after a moment of silence:

"What now?"

Dave raised from where he rested on the wheel, seemingly having calmed down as well.

"Right, okay sportsy- We can't go back to the motel, they'll stop us for sure... But they'll definitely scout alleyways."

Jack looked ahead of him: the alleyway Dave had driven into was a dead end, and the only way in or out was behind them. If they had the misfortune of the police blocking their exit, they were without a getaway.

"So we're either going to have to abandon the car, or make it seem like we're not the ones they're looking for."

Jack concluded, rubbing his chin in thought. He knew damn well they didn't have the finances to afford a fine of any sorts, and he wasn't about to spend a night held prisoner in some musty police office. But if they abandoned the car, there was a hot chance it'd get towed by the time police called the search off. Dave's thoughts seemed to follow a similar trajectory, restlessly strumming his hands on the steering wheel. Jack was about to make a comment about how bad of an idea this was, when Dave spoke up:

"Okay old sport, hear me out-"

Dave's voice was experimental, a tone that already suggested Jack would not be hearing him out:

"We move to the backseat, rough up our clothes and hair, and if a copper' happens to knock on the window- We'll just say we were about to have sex!"

"Ex- FUCKING -cuse me?!"

Jack's voice roared through the car, deadpanning Dave in the eye. He stiffened in surprise, but his smile didn't falter.

"How the fuck is that even an idea-?!"

His voice calmed slightly, pinching the bridge of his nose with a groan. Dave shifted in his seat, crossing his arms with a smug look plastered across his face. It was clear that he was confident in his idea, not giving up on convincing Jack as he spoke again:

"Think about it old sport! We're both men; most people aren't fond of the gays, so it makes sense for us to be secretive about it."

Jack hated that his reasoning made even the littlest bit of sense. It was the eighties, afterall.

"And if they ask why we can't do it at home, we'll just say we both have roommates!"

Dave beamed brightly, convinced in his own enlightenment. Jack folded his hands in his lap, speaking through gritted teeth:

"You're not convincing me into another one of your dumbass ideas."

Dave simply shrugged, turning back to the wheel as he spoke with a casual tone:

"If you've got a better suggestion, I'd love to hear it old sport!"

Now, that got Jack staring ahead of him. He really didn't have anything else to offer besides sit there and hope for the best, but he felt doubtful that Fredbear would hear his prayers. So, he began to reason with Dave's idea. If he really thought about it, there wasn't much to it: they'd spend a night in their backseat, and if police came by they'd simply look bewildered. He really hated how Dave kept convincing him into stuff he never would have agreed with if it wasn't for his absurd reasoning. But, his pride didn't overtake his desire to avoid police involvement, and he spoke with a defeated tone:

"Fine. But you're speaking to the police if they do knock on our window."

His words were stern, but Dave paid it no mind as his cocky smile only grew upon seeing Jack's annoyed expression. Dave began climbing over the middle console, all the while Jack simply scoffed and got out the door. The narrow alleyway allowed just enough space for him to get out and back in, plopping on a seat while Dave fell into the back as well. He fumbled with his position a little before sitting on the opposite side of Jack, sighing heavily.

"Alright old sport, just make it look like we've been busy-"

Said Dave, actively unbuttoning his shirt. He released his hair from where it was held together in a low ponytail, roughly running his hands through it to make it look messy. Lastly, he unzipped his fly, much to Jack's dismay. Despite his initial aversion to the idea, Jack followed and did his own part in making himself look even messier than he'd already been.

"If one of 'em coppers' pulls up, we'll just get all over each other, yeah old sport?"

"Sure Dave, sure-"

He sighed, feigning annoyance. They fell into silence, and Jack stared painfully ahead of him because he knew looking at Dave would spark something in him. It wasn't like he hadn't seen Dave with his messy after-sex look before, but that was usually only when he lodged a hooker out of their room. At moments like those he wouldn't bother to button his shirt, heaving chest still exposed and his hair slick with sweat.

And yet, something about the scenery was different this time. There was no hooker, and there had been no sex. They were only pretending, setting up a fake scenario to avoid being caught if they did get discovered. That idea was exactly what got the cogs in Jack's head turning, thinking just a little too far ahead for someone who was initially averse to the idea. He couldn't help but wonder what it would look like to possible police, how far they'd go for the sake of credibility.

Dave was bold in nature, he had taken notice of how easily he approached women in the bar. That very thought led him to the carnal imagine it being him in the backseat of their car, pinned below a heaving Dave. He hated how it made his stomach churn, awkwardly shifting in his spot. Dave was never this quiet; Jack hoped it was because of the adrenaline still wearing him down and not because his thoughts were headed the same direction.

Because that would make it awkward, wouldn't it? His glances at Dave were always excused by the presence of a woman, they wouldn't ever behave that way when it was just the two of them. And yet, he couldn't get the idea out of his head. What it'd be like for Dave to treat him like he did the women that flowed into their room, for him to be the one getting peppered in kisses. Would it really be that bad, if it was done under the presumption of pretending?

"You should give me a hickey."

His words had escaped him before his mind could comprehend the thought, earning a confused but engaged glance from Dave. He didn't regret his suggestion, he merely regretted saying it aloud.

"I mean- Just to make it more believable, of course."

He added, a bit too quickly for his liking. He hated that his voice never sounded as convincing as Dave's did, giving another frail attempt to save face:

"We might still look suspicious otherwise, y'know-"

Jack desperately tried not to make it weird, but managed to do the complete opposite in his attempt. He was lucky Dave didn't seem to experience such a thing as shame, shrugging with something that was almost akin to indifference.

"You make a good point old sport. If you wasn't opposed to it...?"

He questioned, his voice suggesting something other than the aforementioned indifference. Jack nodded and gestured for him to come nearer, extending a hand that came to lay on the back of Dave's neck. His car was small and it was difficult to properly position himself, but he made due by stradling Jack's thigh with a knee in between his legs. Dave's hand found its way to his jawline, thumb pressed to the underside of his chin, coaxing him to look up at the roof of his car. Jack blinked at the sight of stained padding, his breath coming out in harsh pants, barely able to mutter soft words as Dave pressed an explorative kiss to his neck:

"No homo-"

Dave repeated his words back to him, his lips grazing Jack's flesh as he did. When Dave reconnected he gently sucked on the skin, coating it in saliva as he went. Jack pressed his own lips into a thin line to stifle the shaky breaths that would've filled the air if he didn't, the hand that rested on Dave's neck gaining a light tremor. A distant tingling sensation began to emerge when Dave pulled away minimally, about to make a dry comment when he felt Jack's hand push him back towards his neck, whether intentionally or not. He pressed another kiss to his skin, an inch or so away from where he first latched on. When he sucked another hickey to his skin, he lightly grazed his teeth along the patch to feel Jack outright twitch under the contact.

Dave was awfully good at this. He was gentle too, he never looked like he was when Jack accidently walked in on him with a stranger in bed. He shivered at the idea, feeling something rise in his stomach as the cold air hit his neck again. Dave admired his work, and from the smirk Jack saw in the corner of his eye, he knew those marks would be visible for a while. He hadn't even thought that far ahead; having to walk around with hickeys on him, hickeys Dave had given him. He couldn't say he was opposed to the idea, so lost in thought he almost missed Dave moving away from him.

"Wait-"

He breathed, his voice coming out weaker than he'd hoped. Dave halted immediately, his hand hardly having left Jack's jaw and his gaze fixed on his companion. Jack swallowed, wordlessly opening and closing his mouth as he ran his free hand over the hickeys Dave had just left. He could feel the shift in sensation when he pressed a thumb to it, biting his tongue as he desperately tried to muster up any excuse to continue this affair. Dave seemed to realize from the way his breath heaved and how he averted eye contact at any cost, returning to his original position over Jack's thigh.

"Is something wrong, sportsy...?"

His voice was lower and huskier than usual, accent especially thick as he positioned his mouth beside Jack's ear. Goosebumps broke out across his skin when Dave's hand came to loosely lay against his throat, almost certain his long fingers could wrap around it if tried. He swallowed hard, knowing Dave could feel him do so under the palm of his hand.

"N- No, nothing's wrong-"

His voice shook, feeling each one of Dave's exhales dance along his skin. He didn't have to see him to envision the smirk that currently occupied his face, shivering as he felt Dave's hand give his throat a light squeeze.

"What am I waiting for, then?"

He asked, stealing a quick kiss along Jack's jawline. Much to Jack's dismay, he seemed well aware of the effect he was having, and was using that to his advantage. His hand found its return to the back of Dave's neck, desperately clutching into his hair as he pressed another kiss to his neck. He lapped at the skin, gently rolling it between his sharp teeth just to see what got the biggest reaction out of Jack. He seemed to have hit the jackpot as Jack outright moaned under the pressure, attempting and failing to stifle the noise.

His free hand found its way to Dave's hip, fingers loosely hanging in the fabric of his shirt as he continued pressing a trial of open mouthed kisses to his neck, sucking on whatever spot made Jack shiver the most. He didn't have to say anything, they didn't have to convey what was desired in this moment labeled as pretend, so delicately wrapped in the idea of credibility that it allowed a whole variety of things. Because pretend, was all it would ever be; all that would ever become of it.

"Dave, fuck-"

He breathed once Dave detached from his neck to sit back and admire the marks that already began blooming a faint red, his mouth open in a heave. With the way Jack sat there, he looked so beautiful and fragile all at once, so much so that it overwhelmed Dave. Jack was never someone who put himself in any sort of situation where he seemed fragile, or even reachable; he never saw him like this. Even in bed with women, or whatever else Jack would occasionally bring into their room, he always seemed distant towards them. Hardly did he even make noise, his expression unreadable and his eyes out of focus.

Dave knew this wasn't supposed to mean anything, that he shouldn't do more than he was asked, but he couldn't help and press a kiss to Jack's open mouth. He inhaled the breath that emerged from Jack, knocking the wind out of his lungs as his hands shot up to cup Dave's face. He wanted to retreat, to ask if it was okay, but refrained from doing so as he felt Jack's tongue press against his own. With eagerness in both of their movements, the heat of their mouths intertwined to form a mess of unspoken longing and desires.

He pressed against Dave just to feel him return the notion, rolling his hips into his thigh with a soft gasp into Jack's mouth. They only ever closed their mouths to enhance the thrill of meeting each other again when they opened, teeth clashing in the rush of it all. Dave's hands found their way to Jack's shirt, tugging the fabric and beginning to toy with the buttons Jack hadn't undone yet. If they were taking this whole pretending thing too far, he might as well go all out while he could.

"Can I- Hmpf-!"

He could hardly get a word out before Jack's lips found his again, hungrily kissing him like he'd been starved of this for decades. Dave didn't mind one bit and returned the notion with equal amounts of passion, his hands still restlessly toying with the buttons of Jack's shirt. He pulled back enough for him to gently lay a hand over Jack's mouth, ignoring the way he outright moaned against it. Dave laughed, a soft and airy sound that reverberated through the tense space of his car.

"Can I undress you?"

Asked Dave with a gentle voice, lowering the hand over Jack's mouth to let him speak.

"I thought you'd never ask, yes-"

Laughed Jack, giving Dave a lopsided smile with his words. There was something so delicate about the moment, about the way Dave unbuttoned his shirt and how Jack watched him do it. Then his hands were all over him, examining his chest and stomach, afraid to let go as if this was the only opportunity he'd ever get. Dave looked so mesmerized, his eyes flickering to several points of focus in an attempt to take everything before him in.

He was transfixed in a way Jack had never seen before. Sure, he seemed in focus when racing or working on machinery, but he never held the same loving glare he did now. They were taking this way too far, Jack knew they were but he couldn't help and drink it like a tall glass. With Dave focused, he took the opportunity to press a gentle kiss to his neck, nipping at his jawline with a smile on his face.

It was when Dave's hand found its way to the zipper of his pants that Jack gasped against his skin, his back lifting off the seat and his body leaning into Dave. He held him impossibly close as his fingers outlined his arousal where it pressed against his boxers. His gasp was lost in the air between them, any sweet nothings ultimately meaningless under the excuse of pretending. He bucked his hips against Dave's hand, drowning in his presence, his scent, his touch, his-

Three knocks on their window, each with equal amounts of urgency to them.

Dave retreated, the look of transfixion now replaced with one of bewilderment, looking towards the source of the noise. Outside their window stood two police officers, one looking off into the distance and the other disapprovingly glaring them down. They removed their hands from one another's body, Jack hurriedly zipping his pants back up as Dave rolled their window down.

"Good evening officers-"

Dave greeted, and Jack could still hear the breathlessness in his voice. The officer closest to them scraped his throat, speaking with a harsh tone.

"Listen, we're looking for illegal racers with a car similar to yours-"

"Oh sir, I can assure you, we would never do such a thing! You see, we're just trying to enjoy ourselves without interruption here..."

Dave interrupted, a bit too quickly and confidently in Jack's opinion. He spoke so convincingly, the same tone he had when he was roping Jack into one of his absurd ideas, like he actually believed his own innocence. The police officer sighed, gesturing between the other person and the trunk of their car.

"Yes, I can see what you people are doing, we've just been ordered to check anyone hidden away. We've got your number plate down and we'll put it in the system, so you won't be bothered again."

The man's tone suggested that he wasn't particularly fond of the queer community, and the judgemental look on his face contributed to it. Jack couldn't bring himself to do anything but shamefully look down at where Dave was still straddling his thigh, obviously and painfully hard. He couldn't figure out how he spoke so effortlessly, when Jack still felt shaken to his core.

"Well, kind officer, thank you for your service~"

Dave spoke with an overly effeminate voice, also having caught on to the disapproval of this particular officer. Jack sighed in sync with the man, although he was almost certain he heard him mutter a slur under his breath when he walked off. Dave paid it no mind, rolling the window to a close as he spoke:

"See sportsy-?"

He rolled the window shut, shifting for his mouth to be dangerously close to Jack's neck again:

"Told ya' it'd work~"

He nearly whispered, making goosebumps break out across Jack's skin. He couldn't tell if Dave was fucking with him or if he was just naturally like this, a dilemma which was only enhanced as he spoke once more:

"So how about you put a little more trust in me next time, hm?"

Dave said with a teasing tone, running a hand along Jack's side. He'd expected to continue where they left off; expected Dave to press another deep mark to his neck, but was proven otherwise when Dave moved away. Jack looked at him, dumbfounded, as he buttoned his shirt back up and tied his hair behind his head. He opened his mouth to say something, but wordlessly closed it once he remembered; it was all just pretend. With that realization dawning upon him, he fixed his clothes with an absent look in his eyes.

Had this been meaningless to Dave, he couldn't help but question. What he really had to do was ask that question in regards to himself, but that didn't quite click yet. Instead, he buttoned his shirt and straightened his jeans, which were still tight around the crotch. Dave finished up too, although he could never truly look neat in any sense of the word. Jack hated that he loved that about him.

There was something tense in the air as they drove back to their motel, something mutual yet unspoken. This was more than pretend, there was no denying that from either of them; they went too far for it to be considered casual. And yet, neither could bring themselves to acknowledge it, neither of them knew how to. Fredbear knows it would've been easier to ignore if it wasn't for the hickeys on Jack's neck staying visible for a solid week, a lasting reminder of something that underlaid their every interaction.

Yet, at the same time, he didn't want them to fade. It was proof, proof that there was something between them that surpassed what was deemed casual. They kept dancing that line, toying with it and pulling on it with every opportunity they got, and neither of them would want it any other way.

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[5155 words]

Imagine getting cockblocked by the police lmao, acab and whatnot.

Also! This book is officially half a year old in three days (10/4), so happy anniversary to that!! Goddamn I wrote a lot in six months. Thank you all for the votes, kudos, and lovely comments!!

Reminder: requests are still open!