4. Stormy nights

Summary: Dave gets caught in a storm, it triggers a traumatic-ish response.

This is like mildly very out of character but this is an old idea that I decided to work out BECAUSE I'M OUT OF IDEAS ARGHH, I just wanna see them be sweet okay:,)

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Storms had always appealed to Jack, in a sense. The harsh conditions of this earth he and all others so naturally inhabited would fight back against the buildings, where the clattering rain only provided for a pleasant ambience. Much like he felt at times, in a sense, the natural phenomena would hardly make any difference in the grander scheme. But it was nice regardless; the water that consistently tapped against his windows, the distant rumble that only made him feel more comfortable in the warmth of his own home. Suddenly his sheets felt much cosier, and his chocolate milk much warmer against his palms.

Someone, who liked storms an incredible lot less, was Dave. Matter of fact, the man in question was getting drenched in rain right outside Jack's house. For each rumble or flash of lightning, he would instinctively press himself against the brick wall. If he still had a heart, it would be racing at a dangerously high speed by now. Ever since he had been a young boy storms, specifically ones that brought thunder with them, had terrified him. On cold nights where he had no roof to sleep under, he would hide under bridges with his hands pressed against his ears, softly sobbing to himself until the weather would either turn around, or he would fall asleep. Such a childish fear, really, but it had never left him. He supposed that was just one of the various ridiculous side effects of being a homeless child.

This was unbearable, to say the least, and he had desperately been searching for an entrance. He really had to finish connecting the fazbunker's vents to Jack's, he thought to himself as he pried a finger into the frame of his bedroom window. His body jolted when a bright flash coloured the world a blinding white for less than a second, accidentally shoving hard enough against the glass for the window to give way. He didn't bother to even consider his options when the sky roared above him, and he climbed into the house.

Jack had been elsewhere in the house, he hadn't spotted him yet, and he hurried to close the window back up. He was drenched, and water already began to drip on the carpet he stood on. Accompanied by another loud rumble making his muscles tense, he rushed to the closet across Jack's bed. Sitting back between hanging clothes, he curled himself up: his legs pulled to his chest, large hands pressing down on his ears and his head resting on his knees. This was a heavy storm, it had completely taken him by surprise and being outside in it demanded more of him than his pride would allow him to admit. He felt stupid for being scared of something he knew to be harmless, swallowing a sob as a flash traced the room. Even in his confinement, he could still hear, there was never a true sense of safety to achieve with conditions this harsh.

Jack could immediately hear it upon walking into his room. The faint quaking breaths, accompanied by sobs that seemed repressed. He checked under his bed, surprised to find only a seven inch long sock, before realising it came from behind his closet doors. Admittedly, he was more furious than anything, having desired a peaceful night for once. In a swift movement, he swung open both doors.

"Dave, what the fuck."

The man in question didn't respond, he kept his head low and his ears covered. When his body visibly shocked upon hearing a rumble in the sky, Jack softened his posture. Clearly, he wouldn't achieve anything by yelling at the aubergine that had hidden in his closet in such a fragile manner. The same person who he watched brutally drive a knife into a toddler's stomach that same day, now sat drenched and crying in his closet. He squatted down beside his companion, and lay a hand on his shoulder, which he gently shook. Dave, with such confusion on his face that Jack concluded he genuinely hadn't noticed him, looked back at him.

"Dave?"

"Sportsy- Hey, I-"

An especially loud roar, followed by a flash, interrupted him. Dave winced, a pathetic sound that was forced out the depths of his throat. Jack smiled at him, gentle, but with a tad of irony regardless.

"Seriously? You; David Miller, the infamous kiddie strangler, scared of a little bit of thunder?"

While he found it greatly amusing to discover the man's irrational fear, he ensured that his voice wouldn't sound too mean. It was certainly a fun idea to tease the man, but he seemed hurt enough as was. Dave simply grumbled in response, averting his head to stare off to his side, squeezing his eyes shut when a strobe of light poured from outside. Jack considered that, by chance, this had more gravity to it than he anticipated.

"Alright, well, you're soaked-"

By Fredbear, was he shit at comforting. He rose back to his feet, scrounging around on one of the top shelves of his closet. Out came a matching jumpsuit, a vaguely pastel orange, which he held out in front of Dave.

"You'll drench my carpet, and maybe catch a cold or whatever- Put these on, yeah? I'll close the blinds."

Dave only nodded in response, but with the new instructions given he had a task to distract him from the continuous noises pestering him. All too gladly, he got rid of the wet fabric that embraced him. In the meantime, Jack went around and closed the curtains on his bedroom windows, ensuring that any lightning would be hardly notable to Dave. The jumpsuit was soft, and pleasantly warm, around the aubergine's cold skin. It smelt like Jack, he noted, a vaguely tangerine scented laundry detergent. Jack returned to him, tilting his head to the side as Dave scooted back in the closet. Just like the various bridges, ledges, and what not, had once been a safe haven to him; Jack's closet had now become one as well. In there, he felt he was sheltered for all he feared; the cold rain, the overwhelmingly loud noises and all else.

"Okay then- Give me ten minutes, alright?"

Jack understood the struggles he was experiencing, and Dave nodded in confirmation. He took the soaked rags Dave called his clothing with him, heading out the room with a stride to his steps. It took him roughly about ten minutes, returning to the room with two steaming mugs in his hands, a blanket and some other object under his arm. He sat the stuff down on a drawer, Dave curiously watching as he tore the sheets off his bed, still with his hands to his ears. Jack gestured for him to move aside, spreading the linen out over the floor of his closet. He moved a few of the hanging clothes to create a place for the both of them to sit, and ordered Dave to return to his original position.

One of the aforementioned mugs was brought to Dave, who found himself pleasantly surprised upon seeing the hot chocolate milk that was contained in it. Jack unfolded the additional blanket he brought along, draping it over Dave's knees while ensuring there remained enough for a second person to crawl under. Tossing the unidentified object in, he took the second mug and scooted under the blanket beside Dave. He pulled the closet door on his end shut, Dave following and doing the same with his side. His closet proved rather spacious, easily harbouring the two of them with the doors shut. Now embraced by darkness, Jack flicked on the flashlight he brought. It startled Dave, who was already on edge from the long growl that roared in the sky above, but he quickly adapted to the change. He positioned the light source away from them, ensuring it was in a place where it would illuminate the space with a pleasant glow.

"Hey."

This was an awfully pleasant and kind gesture from Jack, who usually didn't let on any emotion besides annoyance, aggression or carelessness. Maybe it was the storm that got him in his feels, or maybe he'd realised this meant more to Dave than he presumed. He could hardly leave him to sob in his closet alone, could he? It wasn't like he was oblivious to the fact Dave wandered his house in the nights; matter of fact, he was rather obvious. His shower suddenly wet in the morning, his fridge missing groceries he's gotten the day before and far more.

"Never thought I'd find myself back in the closet-"

Jack joked, in a vein attempt to get a positive reaction out of Dave. The man still sat, his shaking hands now clasped to the mug instead of against his ears. For each rumbling noise, each flash of lightning, his body reacted with a little jolt. It was odd, to see such a man with a childish fear like this. There had to be some sort of reason behind it, Jack thought to himself, as he nudged Dave with his shoulder. He took his mug in one hand, using the other to pull Dave against his side, where he sat without protest.

"So, what's the deal with you and storms?"

Dave shifted, comfortably setting himself against Jack's chest, as he finally took a sip of the drink that had cooled down enough to consume. With his eyes turned away from Jack's, who's arm now lay over his shoulders, it was easier to talk about something so sensitive to him:

"I dun' like it- 'S loud, and cold, and-"

"Why were you even out, then?"

Jack interrupted, twirling the remnants of Dave's damp curls around his finger. Sure, he knew Dave was prone to creeping around his house, but he had expected him to stay covered in conditions like these, even before he knew of this irrational fear.

"It caught me off guard-"

Dave spoke, so softly and with such embarrassment that it was almost inaudible. Admittedly, the storm had come suddenly. It was typical to a summer; the heat that would result in the sudden downpours, contrasting to the day itself. Lord knows Dave couldn't afford a radio that would have notified him of the abrupt change that was to occur.

"Well, you're safe here, aren't you?"

Whispered Jack, his voice gentle as Dave scooted further against him. It didn't take much emotional intelligence to know he provided a sense of comfort to the aubergine, who had dropped his humorous facade to be replaced by a glint into his past for once. Jack drank up the last of his chocolate milk, setting his mug aside to properly pull Dave onto his lap.

"I'll stay with you, 'til it's over."

He sat, baffled, for a hot second before he eased into Jack's arms, resting his face in the crook of his neck. Even through the jumpsuit he had given Dave, he could feel how cold the man's body had been. Fredbear knows how long he was out in the rain, a cold as such would seep in one's bones, where it was prone to settle until the body was able to make it's recovery. He pulled the blanket he brought up to his shoulders, ensuring that it would cover him entirely. Dave was slender, lean and light, easily allowing Jack to wrap his arms around his waist and warm him up.

Maybe for tonight, he would take pity on the fearful Dave and offer him the slightest of emotional vulnerability. His body still had a reaction to the sounds of thunder roaring above, small spasms and grimaces when it did occur. Gently, he stroke Dave's arm, the hand of which rested on his shoulder. God, Jack thought, was he truly pathetic. Then again, what of this was his own doing: to which degree was Dave Miller, the infamous kiddie strangler, a product of his surroundings? An existential question that extended further than traumatic memories resorting to an irrational fear. Maybe even Dave deserved comfort, every once while. And maybe, Jack was the only person he had that could provide him with such, a plausible reason for his obsessive behaviour.

"Thank you, old sport-"

It wasn't long before the storm passed over; just as suddenly as it had broke out, it had vanished again. Dave made the very best of attempts to pretend to be asleep, manual slow breaths as he let his body limp in Jack's arms. He could easily tell, the two had shared a bed plentiful of times and Jack knew what Dave was like when he slept. It was simply that he had decided to let the man indulge in the comfort he had provided. Besides, he had slept in far worse situations before.

Sure, the sleep wasn't good by any means; it simply consisted of several short periods that alternated between being asleep and awake. He'd catch up with all he had missed the following night, Jack convinced himself. Dave seemed comfortable, and admittedly, he did look cute in Jack's clothing. When the both had decided that they were ready to acknowledge the day they would be forced to face eventually, nothing of Dave's aforementioned mood was to be recognised. Matter of fact, the first words he spoke were a poorly formulated pun regarding the fact they had to come out the closet.

His inability to respond, to convey his emotions, his wants, needs, was now hidden under a fabricated persona again. What was a fragile man who could only speak when it was directly demanded of him less than ten hours ago, was now a bastard at it's finest. But even underneath the facade, Jack could see the gratitude in his eyes, in the way he gently took Jack's hand to help him up from the floor. In the end, that was all the confirmation he really expected, and desired, from the aubergine. With a sore back from sleeping while sat on the closet floor, Jack made them a quick breakfast before they would be forced to head out to that awful Freddy's joint.

Outside, there was still evidence of the storm. Although, besides scattered puddles, it was primarily the aura of it that stood out. That emotional value that came attached to the morning after a heavy storm; the smell of rain, the disrupted humidity that still stuck around, and the sound of animals coming out of hiding. While entirely subjective, and without discernable proof, it was incredibly evident. Not unlike the mutual knowledge of earlier occurred events that still radiated between them, despite going unspoken. What's there to say; Dave Miller had been a man of many stories, secrets, and murderous tendencies.

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[2525 words]

It's a bit short and rushed and ooc but arghhh I lost motivation for this, feelin' a bit under the weather lately:,)

LEAVE IDEAS !!! I'm gunna work on another idea I have iiiiiiiif I find the motivation for now:3