Joseph/Robert Head Canon Fic
So I bought Dream Daddy on Friday after work, sunk 17 hours into it between then and now, and decided to write my head canon for how Joseph and Robert get into a relationship that goes wrong. It relies heavily on the clues in the game and the datamined stuff, so if you don’t like that part of Dream Daddy, don’t read this. But really, it’s just pre-relationship fluff and a little bit of creep. Joseph is good!Joseph, coexisting with whatever is inside him that’s ruining his life and the lives of the other daddies, breaking down his marriage, and making him feel like he’s going crazy.
Thank you to the devs of this game for making something lighthearted and fun but also with undertones of angst and creep.
Robert is cute. <3
3 or 4 years ago, it’s difficult to remember these days, Robert arrived at Jim and Kim’s at his usual time on a Friday night. He greeted the bartender, Neil, with a nod, and before he even sat down, Neil had a double shot of whiskey and a napkin ready. The Game was playing on the beat-up, no-brand 32” tube TV hanging to the right of the top shelf of neatly arranged bottles of alcohol. It wasn’t a particularly busy night, which suited Robert fine.
Half an hour went by where Robert sat undisturbed, nursing the whiskey for longer than he meant to and more engrossed in The Game than he originally wanted to be. He didn’t hear his name when someone shouted it, not at first. He knew that his neighbors in the cul-de-sac all had a pretty low opinion of him in general, so he didn’t expect anybody to call out for him. When he bumped into one of the neighborhood dads at this place, it was purely by mistake and they would be polite, but give him the space they assumed he wanted.
He didn’t want space all the time and he didn’t know quite how to say that out loud without sounding like a charity case, so he stayed quiet and let them distance themselves from him.
“Robert!”
Robert snapped out of it and turned on the bar stool just enough to look over his shoulder towards the door, where Joseph Christiansen, the “Cool Youth Pastor” stood. He looked painfully out of place in a bar, with his perfectly coiffed blonde hair and stupid blue sweater from Abercrombie and Whoever the Fuck. The strangest part was that he was alone, not accompanied by one of the other neighborhood dads or Mary. And he was already heading in Robert’s direction.
“It’s nice to see a friendly face here,” Joseph said as he sat down, much to Robert’s bemusement, in the seat directly to the left of Robert’s.
“My face is friendly? This is breaking news.”
Robert didn’t think what he said was particularly funny, but Joseph apparently thought so. His mouth pulled into a huge grin full of pearly white teeth and then he laughed like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. Joseph might have been the most Stepford-looking sonofabitch that Robert’s ever seen, but there was something oddly endearing about the small wrinkles at the corners of his eyes when he laughed.
“What’ll you have, Joseph?” Neil asked.
Joseph’s laughter dissolved into an amused smile. “Two shots of tequila and a beer to start.”
That peaked Robert’s interest. Joseph was the epitome of the church-going, perfect father and self-proclaimed “Cool Youth Pastor”. The last thing that he ever expected to see was that type of man ordering two shots of tequila and a beer to start. If he were honest with himself, he’d say he was impressed.
“Bad day, Bible Man?” Robert asked before taking a generous swig of whiskey. He held up two fingers for Neil to see and felt satisfied when the bartender immediately started pouring him another double.
“You could say that.” Joseph didn’t offer up any details right away after that. He watched as Neil sat two shots of tequila and an open bottle of beer on the bartop in front of him, but didn’t make any move to drink them.
Robert didn’t really want to pry, so he settled for silently observing as Joseph stared at the alcohol in front of him. The entire mood of the man sitting next to him changed, Robert could feel it, and then he was curious.
“Hey Neil, you got any cut limes and salt around?” Robert asked.
Neil shrugged his shoulders and replied, “I got some whole limes in the fridge in the back.”
“Good, cut two up and bring them with some salt.”
Joseph didn’t look like he listened to the exchange at all. His downcast eyes were still fixated on the shots of tequila, his long fingers picking one up experimentally and then setting it back down.
Neil came back a minute or two later with slices of lime on a paper plate and a shaker of salt. He sat them down in between Robert and Joseph, looking a little confused as to who wanted them.
“Thanks Neil,” Robert said with a dismissive half-smile.
When Neil got the idea and walked away to the other end of the bar, Robert licked the back of his hand and shook some salt onto it. Then in one smooth move he grabbed one of the shots in front of Joseph, lapped up the salt from his skin in one go, downed the tequila, and popped a wedge of lime into his mouth to suck on. He hated tequila, just the smell alone elicited memories of very bad decisions and monumental hangovers, but he figured he could handle one shot to break the ice.
Joseph looked up at Robert, face looking more shocked than sullen. Robert continued to suck on the lime, holding Joseph’s gaze for way too long to be comfortable.
“I got into an explosive fight with Mary,” Joseph sighed.
Robert spat out the slice of lime and sat it on the bar. He wasn’t surprised that Joseph fighting with his wife was what pushed him to come to Jim and Kim’s. He’d never seen them fight in public, but the catty way they spoke to each other at the barbecues and kids’ birthday parties was enough of a clue. Robert carefully considered his next question.
“How bad was it?”
Joseph looked like he was thinking about how to answer, then grabbed a lime wedge and the salt shaker. He looked up at Robert and smiled sheepishly. It wasn’t enough to reabsorb the tears welling up in his eyes.
“How does it go again?” Joseph asked.
Robert eyed Joseph for a moment and grumbled, “Lick the back of your hand.”
Joseph did, tongue gliding wetly across his skin. Robert watched the motion intently, feeling the warmth of tequila and whiskey settling in his chest and lower belly.
“Salt it.”
Joseph obeyed, shaking salt onto his wet hand.
“Now lick the salt up, take the shot, and suck on a lime.”
Joseph didn’t hesitate a bit. He picked up the shot and followed Robert’s instructions, making a face at the sourness of the lime or the burn of the tequila, Robert didn’t know which.
“How many of those until I feel better?” Joseph asked, looking expectantly at Robert like he must know the answer.
“Alcohol isn’t meant to make you feel better about shit. It’s to help you forget shit.”
It turned out that there was a number of shots that made Joseph open up more, at least. That number was six. Robert promised himself not to pull any deep dark secrets out of a very drunk Joseph, but he couldn’t help it if Joseph offered them up without Robert prompting him to.
“She wants a divorce,” Joseph said, voice thick with emotion, his shoulder pressed against Robert’s. He had gradually slid more and more off of his chair as they drank and talked, half sitting on it and half relying on Robert to hold him up.
“Tell me if I’m going too far here, but doesn’t your Bible… uh, code? Code or whatever. Doesn’t that frown on divorce?” Robert asked.
Joseph laughed bitterly and tipped back some of his lukewarm beer. “I live my life according to God’s word every day. I gave up many things that made me happy to become a youth pastor. I made sacrifices each day, thinking that God would reward me with a healthy, happy family and a wife who would be my partner through thick and thin. Neither of those two things are true at this moment, so trust me when I say that God being disapproving of divorce is the least of my worries.”
“Sounds like you struck out on two of your three genie wishes.” Robert didn’t mean to sound like an insensitive ass, but he couldn’t help it. He imagined that drunk-Joseph wouldn’t take it too personal.
“In a way, yes. I guess I did.”
Over the next few hours, Joseph opened up to Robert like Robert was the priest and Joseph was the sinner at confession. It was surreal. Joseph had apparently confronted Mary at home about her shitty attitude towards him at a church event earlier in the day and the encounter escalated into a screaming match. Mary threw a wine glass at Joseph’s head, beaned him pretty good from what Robert could see of the bruise peaking out at Joseph’s hairline, and told him to leave for good.
The children were in the hallway listening in when it happened, which to Robert was the worst part. Joseph came around the corner to find them looking at him with tears in their eyes. Their creepy, soulless eyes, Robert thought, but that part wasn’t important. Children should never have to hear their parents shouting insults at each other.
It was close to two in the morning when Neil finally kicked them out. They stopped buying drinks an hour before that and they were the only people left in the bar, so Robert wasn’t surprised that they got the boot.
“Can you even walk on your own?” Robert asked Joseph as they stepped out of Jim and Kim’s.
Joseph nodded his head, which he looked like he immediately regretted. “Yeah, I’m great. Fine. Super. I’ll go home and sleep in the car.”
Robert watched as Joseph stumbled in the direction of the cul-de-sac, only able to make it a few feet before he tripped over his loafers and fell hard onto the asphalt. Perfect.
“It’s all over,” Joseph mumbled, staying on the ground.
“Come on, Abercrombie, let’s go,” Robert sighed, walking over to Joseph and putting his hands under Joseph’s armpits to help pull him to a sort of standing position. He wasn’t nearly as drunk as he should be at this time of night, and not even in the same galaxy as how drunk he would have to be to even consider offering Joseph a place to stay while things cooled off with Mary, but that’s exactly what his stupid brain decided he was going to do.
It took twenty minutes to walk the short distance to Robert’s house, thanks entirely to Joseph walking like a wasted frat girl and stopping every couple feet to comment on the world spinning. Joseph wasn’t as light or easy to maneuver as a frat girl. He was surprisingly solid underneath the stupid blue sweater and muscle was heavy, even heavier when you’re drunk and trying to haul it home with you.
They took an entire five minute break when Joseph put his mouth close to Robert’s ear, breath smelling like very bad decisions, and mumbled, “You’re so warm.” Robert had to give himself time to put the kibosh on half a boner before they could start moving again.
Robert had no idea how they finally managed to do it, but they reached his house and stopped at his front door.
“Joseph, can you stand on your own for ten seconds while I get my keys?” Robert asked. They were in the pocket of his jeans, on the side of him that Joseph was leaning against.
Joseph nodded and released Robert, putting his hands on the house to steady himself. Robert fumbled with his keys, but ultimately got the correct one in hand and unlocked the door.
To say that Robert’s house was a mess would be putting it lightly, which turned out to be a big problem when trying to maneuver through it in the dark with a drunk Bible thumper latched onto him. As they moved through the house, Robert remembered the biggest obstacle of all.
“Joseph.”
“Mm?”
“There’s… stairs,” Robert said, head starting to throb. “And you’re drunk and fucking heavy.”
The couch would be much more practical, but also so much more uncomfortable than his bed. He thought about just leaving Joseph on the couch and taking himself to bed, but Joseph looked so tormented and completely gone that Robert didn’t really want him to wake up on an unknown couch in an unknown house after a night he probably wouldn’t remember. Robert knew how that felt all too well.
Finding some last bit of strength, Robert pulled Joseph close to his side and carefully helped him walk up the stairs. It seemed like it took years instead of minutes, but they finally conquered the last step and stumbled into the bedroom.
At that point, Robert had enough of carrying Joseph and just sort of leaned him back until he fell ungracefully onto the bed. He landed with his head mostly on a pillow, so Robert considered it a success.
“Your bed?” Joseph slurred, not opening his eyes.
“Yeah, my bed. And you’ve got your shoes on still.”
There was no response, so Robert took the liberty of pulling off Joseph’s loafers one after the other and throwing them to land only God knows where. He reached for the button and zipper of Joseph’s stupid khakis, intending to pull them off in one go like a tablecloth from under dishes, but a warm hand stopped him.
In the dark, he could see that Joseph’s eyes were half open and he was propped up on one elbow. He didn’t look offended or scared, just strangely intense. Were his eyes always that dark? Robert wondered. The silence stretched between them, filled with unspoken things that Robert wasn’t expecting.
“You want to sleep with your pants on?” Robert asked bluntly, not moving his hand or breaking eye contact. He wasn’t really in the mood to have the ‘I don’t fuck people that are too wasted to walk five feet alone’ talk and he definitely wasn’t in the mood to have it with a married man at whatever o’clock, but he would do whatever it took to get into bed at that point.
Whatever was possessing Joseph seemed to leave him, because he shook his head once and laid back onto the bed. Robert took that as Joseph’s consent and he made quick work of the khaki pants, leaving those at the foot of the bed.
“You’re a briefs guy. I should’ve guessed.”
Joseph snored softly in response.
Robert took this opportunity to strip off his jeans and crawl into bed, made it to where his head would hit the pillow, and flopped onto his stomach. There were so many fucked up things with sleeping in the same bed as a married Christian dad whose wife was batshit crazy, but he was suddenly too tired to care. He fell asleep within seconds.
At some point during the night or the early morning, Robert briefly woke when he felt something warm pressing against the length of his side. Judging from the smell of Light Blue and very bad decisions, his sleep-addled brain told him it was Joseph.
As he thought about it for another few moments, Robert realized it was definitely Joseph. Joseph had shifted over towards Robert’s side of the bed and his back was facing Robert, but something seemed off.
“I don’t… want… I don’t want to…”
Great, he was a sleep talker. Robert rubbed his eyes and tried to go back to sleep, but Joseph mumbled again and his back twitched.
“Please… I love… I love her, don’t…”
Robert tried to remember where he kept the earplugs, if he even had any.
He didn’t have a lot of time to think about it before Joseph’s entire body spasmed and he started shaking.
“You don’t have a choice.”
Robert froze up and waited for Joseph to say something else. There was nothing else for a while except Joseph’s labored breathing and a ticking clock somewhere that Robert was going to throw away as soon as possible.
Joseph started to shake again, but Robert knew that this was different than whatever night terrors he had been experiencing. These were sobs wracking his body, accompanied by soft, stifled crying.
Robert didn’t need much more coaxing than that to turn onto his side, facing Joseph’s back. He wrapped an arm around his waist and pressed his lips to the back of Joseph’s neck, shushing him for a long time until the crying finally stopped, his breathing evening out and his body going lax in Robert’s hold.
When he was satisfied that Joseph had fallen back asleep, Robert thought about pulling away and turning over, but decided not to. There wasn’t any harm in spooning a married Christian dad with a batshit crazy wife, he supposed, even if Joseph said some scary shit in his sleep. Whatever demons haunted Joseph, Robert knew he couldn’t chase them away entirely, but hopefully he could keep them away until the morning.
Feeling completely exhausted and ready to sleep for a week, Robert pushed his nose into the hair at the nape of Joseph’s neck and fell asleep.
