21. Movie nights

Summary: Movie night, interrupted by Dave being traumatized from Henry being an asshole.

-

Credits to my lovely friend Johanna for this idea! And also thank you for putting up with my shit<3

I wrote this instead of preparing for exams, everyone pray for me please.

-

-

Jack never came to work with any goals aside from passing the day, and maybe blowing up a urinal or two. But as of late, he didn't mind half as much as usual. Dave made his work awfully entertaining, and he found himself laughing more than he had in the last few years of his life. He knew Dave had been there in his home, using his things when he thought Jack slept, but he couldn't bring himself to bring up any concern over it. Dave was weird, he was under no false pretense when it came to that, but he was equally as fun.

He'd been meaning to ask him over, not like he was foreign to his house anyway, but hadn't gotten to it. It felt odd was all; inviting Dave into a personal domain of his. He'd never opened up easily, he never had to, but Dave kept appearing in parts of his life where he hadn't expected anyone to begin with. The most surprising aspect was that he didn't mind it, in fact; he happily welcomed him when he could. The company felt good was all, he told himself.

So, with that feeling lingering in the back of his mind, Jack came to work with a goal. Today, he would invite Dave over to watch a movie in his home, an activity perfectly suited for two friends. He still couldn't believe he even considered Dave to be a friend, but he'd applied the label in his head sooner than he expected. And sometimes he even questioned whether Dave was a friend, or something that differed in nature. Surely friends shouldn't behave the way they sometimes did in the late hours of night, oblivious to all the lines they were crossing.

Jack pondered it as he so often would; under the company of a cigarette while he sat on the dank saferoom floor, when Dave walked in. He didn't notice Jack in the corner of the room at first, stretching with his back turned towards the other. A few loud cracks and pops echoed through the space, sounding almost inhumane, letting out an annoyed groan before sulking back into his poor posture. When he turned around, he nearly jumped when he finally noticed Jack:

"Gah! I hadn't seen you there old sport!"

He ran a hand through what once must have been hair, almost as if to fix himself. Jack exhaled smoke through his nostrils with a smile, standing up from his spot on the cold ground to greet Dave.

"Good morning to you too, aubergine."

"If this was a good morning I'd still be sleeping, sport."

"You make a fair point-"

He laughed, so deliciously mindless, as he flicked the butt of his cigarette to the floor. He pressed his foot to it, although it'd hardly do anything to decrease the risk of the restaurant setting aflame at any given time. They'd been loitering the saferoom a lot as of recently, and the floor was practically coated with smoked cigarettes and the occasional bud of a joint. It was just another sign of their companionship; the result of the many times they smoked and held conversation during the job, basking in each other's company when they were supposed to be working. Jack was sure the suits smelled of it too, but his sense of smell was destroyed long ago and Dave seemed much the same.

"Y'wanna get suited up or smoke another old sport?"

Jack breathed a defeated sigh, retrieving and holding out the empty carton that was in his pocket. Dave rarely brought cigarettes as of late, they'd usually put their tokens together and buy a shared pack, which mostly ended up in Jack's pocket. Jack was also the heavier smoker of the two, and seemed to experience cravings more than Dave.

"I'm afraid I got nuffin' on me."

He began to pick up on Dave's accent subconsciously, which showed on the word nothing a lot. He tried his hardest to repress it, but would slip in day to day speech when he wasn't consciously paying it any mind. Dave hadn't noticed yet, Jack assumed he would have teased him over it if he had.

"Eh, don't worry sportsy, I can 'prolly steal enough tickets off those kiddins' to get 'nother pack from that virgin."

Jack gave him a thankful smile, watching him head towards his respective springbonnie suit. He was so lost in dreamily watching Dave work a handcrank on the springlocks that he almost forgot about his initial goal, tossing his own rusty handcrank between his hands.

"Hey, Dave?"

"What's up old sport?"

He turned his head towards Jack, his neck in an abnormal twist that shouldn't have been possible. It always freaked Jack out a little when he did that, but he repressed the feeling as he questioned the proposal:

"I rented some cheap horror movie recently, you want to come over and watch it tonight?"

"You wanna watch a movie, with me? In your house?"

From the way Dave spoke, it sounded like he had just proposed the unthinkable. Jack gave a slow nod, swallowing back the feeling that he had somehow said something completely out of pocket. He rarely doubted himself, but sometimes he felt that uneasy sensation settle in his stomach when Dave gave him a questioning glare; he hated that he was able to do that. Just as he was about to make a comment on how it wasn't an obligation, Dave continued with an enthusiastic tone:

"What have I done to make you think I wouldn't want that! Of course I want to watch a movie with you, I'll be there at eight!"

Jack breathed a sigh of relief, before speaking with a questioning and frankly concerned tone:

"Do you want directions?"

"Oh don't worry sportsy, I know the way to your house!"

It wasn't much of a surprise to Jack anymore, but he still wisefully shook his head in response.

"Weirdo-"

He muttered under his breath as he started working on his own suit, cranking the springlocks aside. Dave didn't give him a response, but if he even so much as looked at him, he'd see the gigantic smile spread across his face. He could call Dave a weirdo and in turn he could be painfully obvious about breaking into Jack's house; it was just another one of the weird conditions that came with their dynamic. Jack didn't protest it, not when it provided him a newfound comfort, not when he was finally learning to accept someone into his personal domain. Dave taught him things too; strong emotions he was certain should have resided with his soul and his soul only, suddenly reappearing when he looked at Dave just a little too long.

He looked at Dave a little longer before finally getting into his own suit, hardly avoiding getting pierced in the gut by an abundance of loose springlocks. They went about their day as usual: telling mildly inappropriate jokes to kids in the hopes their boss wouldn't hear, searching for tickets and buying cigarettes to smoke during their fifteen minute break. It was a day like any other, uneventful and unmemorable, with Jack being certain the kids felt much the same. When it finally came to an end and the customers started pouring out of the restaurant, the two were happy to kick their suits into a corner.

"Well then old sport, see you soon!"

Dave said once they exited the building, Jack already pulling a cigarette out of the dingy carton. He held it out to Dave, who thanked him but politely declined. He walked Jack to his car, even making the gesture of holding the door open for him. Jack understood, to a degree, that this was his odd way of showing him affection, trying to fluster him. He, however, knew how to do the same to Dave:

"Welp, see'ya Davey-!"

He pulled his door shut, waving a flustered Dave goodbye as he drove off. When he arrived home, he had a little under two hours to get everything set up; stuffing down half of a day-old pizza and spending the rest washing his orange makeup off. Dave had seen him without it plenty of times by this point, and he wasn't worried about keeping it on around him anymore. Besides, it felt nice to give his decaying skin a breath of fresh air every once in a while.

It was nearly eight when he was deciding between putting out beer, wine, or straight liquor. Beer felt like something that belonged at nights out, wine felt too romantic, and straight liquor just made him look like an alcoholic. But, even despite that; watching a shitty horror movie sober was worse than any of those options, and he ended up setting a bottle of wine down at the coffee table. It had barely touched the hardwood tabletop when his doorbell rang, a minute past eight; perfectly on time.

"Dave, you made it!"

"Course I did old sport, I wouldn't miss this for the world!"

He pushed past Jack to walk inside, kicking his already untied shoes off. In order to take his coat off, he handed Jack a plastic bag with something heavy inside. It felt like a bottle and upon looking inside his suspicions were confirmed; a bottle of port, aged ten years according to the label. It looked too fancy for Dave's financial situation, and the lack of a receipt made Jack think that he had stolen it. He wasn't given any more time to question it, as Dave headed for his living room with a steady pace, Jack trailing behind him.

"Awe sportsy, you've brought wine for our date~"

Dave coed, melodramatically, as he saw the bottle and the two glasses placed on his coffee table. Jack scoffed in response, setting the bottle Dave had brought beside it before giving him a soft punch in the shoulder.

"Yeah sure, you wish-!"

Dave snickered too, following Jack into the kitchen as he headed there. He retrieved two smaller glasses, specifically designated for drinking port, from his cabinet.

"Maybe I do?"

Said Dave, just a little too quietly, as he leaned against the counter.

"Don't count on it."

Jack bit back, also just a little too quietly.

"Bummer."

Dave responded, and that was the end of that exchange. He could handle the relentless flirting, he'd gotten really good at that the longer he was around Dave, but the moment it became even remotely serious he fell flat. It was only under the company of copious amounts of alcohol, weed, or a combination of the two, that he would reciprocate. Who knew where the two bottles would lead them this evening; he'd already invited and allowed Dave into his house. He was there, in the familiar surroundings in which he had isolated himself for nearly all his life; Dave had worked himself into the complex emotional structure that was Jack.

He watched the floorboard creak under Dave's weight like it did with his own, studying him with his knowledge rather than with quick glances when he was sneaking around. It still felt a little foreign, and sometimes he was met with the urge to kick him out the moment he got too close, but Dave was persistent. Both emotionally and physically, he wasn't alone anymore. Lost in that feeling, he hardly noticed they'd made it back to the couch by now, sitting on opposite ends. Dave was unscrewing the cap to his cheapskate wine and pouring both their glasses, handing one to Jack to snap him from his transfixion.

"Well, what movie did you rent old sport?"

Jack, now with a glass of wine in his hand, retrieved the tape he had rented a few days prior from his coffee table. It was in the horror section, a genre he was surprisingly fond of, and had a discount.

"The At- The Attic, I think?"

The label had partially faded away, so he had to make the best of what it said. The title sounded like some cheap paranormal or slasher movie, which was why he had brought it. He didn't like to think a lot while watching movies, it was one of the few times where he truly got to turn his brain off. Dave shrugged and noted that he'd never heard of the movie, sipping from his wine and leaning back into the couch.

"Guess we'll just have to see, then."

He shrugged his shoulders, taking a rich gulp from his wine. He cringed a little at the taste, always having been more fond of mixers and cocktails, but repressed the feeling.

"It's a nice wine, old sport."

Dave noted, swirling the liquid in his glass.

"Don't lie to me!"

Jack scoffed playfully, taking another rich gulp to ease his muscles before continuing:

"This couldn't have cost more than five bucks at a corner store, you just have bad taste!"

"I wouldn't say that now sportsy, you're also my taste!"

"Point proven."

Jack spoke sternly, before the two simultaneously broke out in laughter. The sound was warm in his otherwise cold home, reverberating against the walls that were only stained with the sound of misery before. Inviting Dave in made his house feel like a home again, made him content in company. Once the both had calmed down from their fit of laughter, Jack proposed to start the movie. Dave was quick to agree, anything to appease the other, and Jack turned his television on.

The title screen looked promising; a chimp with cymbals in its hands and a streak of blood running from its manic grin. Jack started the movie and sunk back in his couch, as did Dave, pulling his legs beneath him. As the opening credits rolled, he couldn't help and let his gaze drift towards Dave, who only sat a few feet away from him. He could still see the faint red stain left on his lips by the wine, illuminated by a rapidly setting sun. Anyone who didn't know Dave wouldn't have seen it, but to Jack it almost seemed like he was nervous. Maybe he wasn't a fan of horror, Jack considered, he hadn't asked him because of how enthusiastic he was to be here. He shrugged it off as imagination, filling their glasses back up.

It was not a slasher or paranormal horror, like Jack had assumed from the title, he was quickly made aware of that. Instead the film relied heavily on suspension and the psychological aspect of horror, something he couldn't care much for. Dave, however, seemed more affected as he hugged his knees to his chest, hiding his head largely behind them. He brushed it off as nothing but the desired effect of the film, and continued watching.

He watched as the main character, a woman with a name he couldn't be bothered to remember, walked up to her wheelchair bound father. Both his voice and hand raised towards her, his abusing nature established very early on in the movie. When the lead suffered a nervous breakdown, he heard Dave outright whimper beside him; a soft, helpless, but most of all involuntary, noise. He turned towards him, whispering just loud enough to be heard over the noise of the television:

"Dude- You alright?"

Dave only nodded, hardly making eye contact as he did. He didn't want to upset Jack, not for something that was entirely confined to himself.

"Are you sure? We can turn it off, if it's-"

He furiously shook his head to interrupt Jack, who muttered a soft confirmation before sitting back in his initial spot. And they just kept watching, kept watching how the main character struggled through her day to day life, how her father scolded her. It was something familiar seen through a different perspective, like he was seeing his own situation from the outside for the first time; Dave hated it. When the main character began fantasizing about taking revenge on her father he felt such a sense of empathy that it further overwhelmed him, turning his vision away from the screen.

He didn't want to see it, didn't want to hear it, but the memories of a time long gone were stuck in his head now. The way he would sometimes let himself slip, his thoughts taking a violent turn when Henry was particularly unresponsive for a week or so. The way he would return to be by his side even if he was demeaning and aggressive, like the main character of this entirely random film would care for her dad. He saw himself in her, a shift in perspective that gave a different angle to everything he thought he knew. He tried to reason it away, tried to put Henry back on his delicate pedestal, but the more he found that he couldn't; the more he upset himself.

"Okay man, clearly there's something wrong."

Jack concluded when Dave let out a choked sob beside him, getting up to turn the television off. With the sun having set, he flicked his floor lamp on. The expression on Dave's face was the first and only thing he noticed; thick eyelids with tears building up behind them, his lower lip quivering and his eyebrows knitted together. He looked so incredibly hurt it eliminated all emotions except for sorry from Jack, quickly heading back to the couch.

"Dave-?"

He sat beside him, closer than before, and reached a hand out to him. But Dave only retreated further away from him, making himself as small as he possibly could, as if Jack would hurt him. The dams that withheld a river of tears finally broke, now streaking down his face while he choked on his sobs. He tried to stop, tried to repress it with everything he had in him, but it all just contributed to worsening the whole thing. No matter how much he told himself that he couldn't show weakness, how there would be consequences, he couldn't help the rapid breaths that only seemed to produce more tears.

He looked a mess, he must've realized too from the way he tried to turn away from Jack, shielding his face with a hand. Jack wanted to help, try and figure out why the film had triggered such a response, but Dave only spoke in garbled mumbles. Meanwhile the guilt and confusion had become too overwhelming for Dave to comprehend, pressing his palms to his ears in the hopes of isolating himself. That's what he always did back then, listening to the absence of his own heartbeat just to ground himself from the mess in his head.

"Hey!"

A voice interrupted his silence, loud and unexpected, trying to get through to him. A hand on his shoulder, a moment so brief that it nearly didn't exist, yet playing out so incredibly slow. Jack lay a hand on his shoulder to draw his attention, and Dave's immediate instinct was to protect himself. He lashed a hand of his own forwards, scratching the back of Jack's hand with his sharp nails. The defense mechanism was successful as Jack pulled back with a set of curses, now holding the bleeding limb in his free hand. Dave had always had sharp nails, courtesy of being a borderline cryptid, and they were able to leave genuine cuts if he put his mind to it.

"Fuck- Fuck, stay here-"

Jack hissed through gritted teeth, rising from the couch to walk away with a trial of blood behind him. Dave couldn't bring himself to do anything but watch, his vision foggy with tears and his entire body shaking. He hadn't meant to do that, it was an instinctual response in a situation where he felt threatened, it wasn't something he thought about. It just made him more upset; Jack had invited him over and in response he'd hurt him for the sole reason of wanting to provide comfort.

"I'm sorry- 'M sorry, 'm sorry-"

He just kept muttering to himself through quiet sobs, his throat running dry and his eyes threatening to shut with every tear that fell. It stained him, a physical manifestation of the memories that taunted him, that made him the way he turned out to be. Violent, hostile, yet fragile and vulnerable when you knew where to look: a mess. He cried, softly yet excessively, at what he was and how he let himself be made this way. He really was Henry's monster like he'd said, and the thought of Jack perceiving him as such only made knowing that worse.

When Jack finally returned with a bandage around his hand, everything had gone quiet. Both his throat and the creases of his eyes had gone raw, his head pounding as he numbly looked ahead of him. During a breakdown like that everything came out all at once, leaving him with nothing once it inevitably passed. Jack sat beside him again, a little further away this time, and waited for him to initiate the conversation. Dave didn't know what to say, where to start, and they sat in silence for a while.

"I'm sorry, sports, I-"

He swallowed thickly, tears threatening to rise up again. That was all that he managed to mutter up before he fell silent again, a knot in his throat when he saw the way Jack had wrapped his hand in bandages. He must hate him, despise him and be fearful of him, Dave thought.

"Dave- Can I come close to you-?"

Jack asked, so incredibly gentle that it made Dave shudder in his skin. The fact that he still treated him with consideration and respect alone just made him realize who he'd gotten so attached to Jack, it all made him appreciate the man even more. He nodded in response and felt the couch cushion dip beside him where Jack took his place, followed by a gentle arm around his shoulders.

"You don't have to say anything right now."

Jack reassured him as he pulled Dave flush to his side, his body falling lifelessly against him. He allowed it all to happen without a word of protest; allowed Jack to pull him into his lap as he leaned the two of them against the armrest of his couch, allowed the soft circles Jack rubbed along his back and allowed the reassuring warmth that eased all his discontent. He lay there for a while, silently and with his arms wrapped around Jack's waist, sinking into his comfortable embrace.

"Aren't you angry...?"

He asked Jack with a soft voice, eventually. He let out a thoughtful sigh in response, continuing to rub Dave's back as he spoke with a gentle tone:

"I'm a little upset that my hand hurts, but I'm not mad at you."

"Why not-?"

Dave asked immediately, his voice fragile again.

"You were scared and I startled you. It was an honest mistake, why should I be angry with you?"

Dave shrugged, something which caused his already drained self a great amount of effort. He tried to pull Jack closer, trying to sink further into the knowledge that Jack wouldn't hurt him no matter what he did.

"Henry always got mad-"

He muttered against the soft cloth of Jack's jumper, his voice so low it was almost inaudible. But Jack heard, stiffening in his movement for a brief second at the mention of that name. He still wasn't fully aware of the dynamic between Dave and Henry, there was so much he was yet to figure out and all Dave provided him were those rare moments where he mentioned the man.

"Maybe he just didn't understand you?"

Jack tried, and Dave stirred in his arms. He seemed uneasy again, pained at having to recall the memory, and Jack was ready to drop the topic before he spoke:

"No, no- He did, he just said bein' angry would make me understand, and finally learn from my mistakes..."

Something in his voice shifted, Jack could hear it in the way his accent got a little thicker. It was something doubtful, an honest but confused tone. Dave rarely talked about Henry in anything but a positive light, and acknowledging the bad was difficult for him when the image he'd created was that of perfection.

"Hah! And look how that turned out, fuckin' asshole..."

Dave didn't immediately jump to Henry's defense upon hearing Jack's colorful language, and instead pondered it for a brief second. When he finally drew a conclusion, his voice wasn't as convincing as he hoped it would be:

"I'm sure he meant well, I know he did-"

"Dave. You can't be serious?"

Dave raised his head from where it rested on Jack's chest, briefly looking at him with an unreadable expression before speaking with determination in his tone:

"I am! He wasn't alway nice, but he picked me up when I was at my lowest!"

"Dave."

In that singular second of silence, the tension could be cut with a knife. Something about it felt so incredibly intense, and Jack's serious glare was only contributing to it. The words that were about to come would break him, he realized that when Jack opened his mouth again:

"Abuse can feel like love sometimes, starved people will eat anything."

Nothing, and absolutely nothing, could have prepared him for that. He looked at Jack, dumbfounded and with his mouth open. Jack, whose vocabulary consisted of memes and the utmost basic speech, threw a wrecking ball towards him with that singular sentence. He hardly noticed when he began crying again, silent tears rolling along his cheeks.

"It's not your fault."

Was all Jack said as he gently wiped Dave's tears with the pad of his thumb, looking at him with an equally hurt expression. He held him when he cried again, quietly this time; like he was mourning. Mourning the image that was only alive in his head, that thrived solely on his own delusions which he needed to be alive, if you could even call it that. Jack just held him through it, held his head as he quietly sobbed into his shirt, continued to reassure him that it was okay and that he was safe.

It was Jack who had invited him into his home, but at the end of the evening it was Dave who'd actually opened his doors. He hadn't ever cried genuine tears around Jack, hadn't let him in on anything that could possibly make him seem weak, and yet he let it all out in his arms. It was such an honor to experience him like this, to be trusted enough to show such an extent of weakness. Jack didn't speak anymore, he simply let Dave process whatever realizations he must have invoked. He didn't want to stress him any further, just wanted to accompany him in his emotions.

And cry he did; he let it all wash over him, safe in the knowledge that Jack would be there alongside him. He allowed all the memories to come back to him; the good, the dubious, but most of all the bad. Henry had mistreated him on occasion, he was under no false pretense when it came to that; but he'd always presumed there to be a greater good like Henry convinced him. He could recall the impact of that wrench like it was only yesterday, remembering the joy he felt when presented with his suit immediately after.

He'd never have allowed himself to think of Henry in such a manner if it wasn't for Jack, who understood with hardly any words spoken. Maybe an outsider acknowledging his situation was all he needed to disrupt the hyperreality he'd constructed around himself, to make him realize. His soul was still thinking it over when he noticed he'd stopped crying, his tears wouldn't change the past; what's done is done.

"How's your hand old sport-?"

He asked suddenly, his raspy voice startling the both of them. Jack raised his hand into his own view, studying the bandages he'd hurriedly wrapped around it. Dave's nails were inhumanly sharp, and Jack would see where his blood began to seep into the cloth.

"It's fine-"

He answered, but the silence was too long for Dave, who now rose from his chest. He didn't want to talk about Henry anymore, he was certain his tears had run dry, so Jack's hand was his next best concern.

"Seriously, it should be alright..."

But Dave had already sat upright over him, gently pulling his hand into his own. He studied the bandages for a second, before prying at them and undoing them entirely. Jack could see the guilt that coated his face when he saw the three long cuts left on the back of his hand, deep enough to draw a substantial amount of blood.

"It's not your fault, you didn't mean to."

Jack said, as if he could read his thoughts. Dave swallowed thickly and nodded, suppressing the countless apologies he was muttering up in his head. Instead, he stepped off the couch and headed towards Jack's hallway without a word, toying with his shirt. Jack sat upright, given Dave was no longer laying against him, and waited for him to return. He came back with a first aid kit, Jack didn't even bother to ask how he knew where that was and instead presented Dave his hand.

And he sat there, taking care of the wounds he'd inflicted upon Jack himself. Everything he would do and everything he had ever done to Jack, he swore to fix it. Swore he would try his absolute hardest to set things right for Jack, unknowing of the further implications carried by that sentiment. And in turn Jack let him, grew with him and accepted his progress at any rate. He'd give his life for him, Dave briefly thought as he wrapped a fresh bandage around Jack's tended wounds.

"Again... I'm-"

"Don't say you're sorry again."

Jack interrupted, with a stern voice despite the soft hiss of pain that followed. Dave sighed, said nothing for a second, but couldn't stay quiet for long:

"I am though, I really am-"

"Don't stress it Davey."

He knew that nickname did something to Dave no matter the circumstances, as it silenced him immediately. He finished wrapping up Jack's hand with medical precision, and it briefly crossed Jack's mind that there might be a reason for that. Dave, however, saw the way he curiously studied the bandages and was quick to interrupt:

"Should I see myself out then, old sport-?"

"What? No, you-"

Jack let out a soft laugh, stopping himself from calling Dave a dumbass as it would likely come off wrong right now. Instead he paused to rub the sleep out of his eyes with his good hand, turning to Dave when he spoke again:

"You've just had a nervous breakdown and it's Fredbear-knows how late! You can stay the night."

It was good to see Dave beam with his usual excitement again, it felt more familiar than anything that'd just happened.

"Really?!"

He chirped, like an excited child. Jack gave him a soft nod of confirmation, unable to suppress a smile when he saw the wide grin on Dave's face. They'd figure it out, he knew they would and this had just been another piece of evidence towards that sentiment.

When Jack got in bed it wasn't a question whether or not Dave would be sleeping alongside him; he simply got in without so much as a word. Jack didn't protest either, he allowed Dave into his delicately constructed barrier and he'd done the same in turn, he felt safe letting him closer. It occurred to him that if he thought of this newfound comfort as foreign, then Dave must too.

"Hey Dave-"

He hummed in response, letting Jack know he was still awake after having stared at the ceiling for quite a while now.

"I'm guessing Henry was kinda like- Your father?"

Dave hummed again, approvingly but notably softer this time around. He didn't know if he was pushing it, he couldn't read Dave's face with the darkness that embraced them.

"My dad always used to- Hold me, when I was upset."

Jack sighed, tainted with sorrow. It hurt thinking about his father, his life brutally and unexpectedly taken in a hit and run. He'd always got along with him, an emotionally warm man who always knew what to say to him. Despite wanting to be like him when he was younger, Jack knew he wasn't anything like him.

"Did Henry ever do anything like that, for you?"

Dave quietly stirred beside him, and Jack could tell he was turning his back to him. It remained silent for a long time. At first Jack thought it was because Dave simply didn't want to respond, but as time went on he suspected he fell asleep. He was, however, proven wrong when Dave's voice croaked back to life:

"He was my dad, but I wasn't his son."

Dave said, with sadness to his voice. Jack could tell his question had struck a nerve from the way Dave sounded like he was on the verge of tears again, and he felt just a twinge of guilt. He turned to lay on his side, squinting his eyes against the dark to see that Dave had indeed turned away from him, before carefully wrapping an arm around his waist. Pulling himself flush against Dave's back, he felt the man easy into his touch almost immediately. Dave was taller than him, although not by that much, and it took him a second to get into a suitable spooning position. He could hear the shaky breaths emerging from Dave slowly even out into calmer ones, pressing a soft kiss to the back of his neck once Jack thought the moment was right.

"Thank you-"

And maybe that was really all they would ever need from each other.

-

-

[5642 words]

Okay I should actually... Get learning now... Goodbye chat...