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been holding back the urge to write a dsaf multichapter fic around young dave meeting ringmaster henry and joining the circus that eventually turns to them at fredbears family diner and then dave's slow realization that the missing kids near henry's circus was because henry was killing them and then dave doesn't know what else to do because who is he without henry so he joins henry and they kill kids together and at first dave is sickened with himself but over time henry's praise and kindness pavloves him into relishing in their crimes because at least he has a home and a family now
the real thing
william "dave miller" afton ( dsaf ) character study [ davesport ]
short fluffy drabble / ficlet
wc 768
dave wouldn't say that he's obsessed with jack f. kennedy. that'd be ridiculous. obsession? that doesn't sound like him at all. what's he ever obsessed over? nothing.
nothing, except for the way jack's hue of orange ... changes, sometimes, as if it's been reapplied or touched up, or darkened with the heavy wet rain. he doesn't obsess over anything at all -- not even the way jack's voice is so soft when he's happy, and firm and short when he's upset.
dave miller isn't the type to fixate on anything. and especially not how when jack turns his head just a certain way, there are deep grey-mauve lines that etch into his skin and leave him covered in symmetrical divot scars. dave pretends he doesn't know what that's from.
pretends he isn't marked, too. pretends he remembers how he got the scars to begin with. pretends he cares. pretends he's angry about them. angry at him.
dave definitely doesn't obsess over jack, not even the way his two missing front teeth cause him to whistle when he speaks or laughs -- god, dave loves his laugh; he's so funny -- sometimes. dave is only mildly cautious of the way he holds any of the tools he holds after jack holds them, because sometimes there's orange smudged against the steel and he doesn't want to wipe it away. it's jack. proof he was here, with dave. proof he cared enough to co-inhabit a space beside him. work with him.
... okay. so, maybe dave's a bit obsessed. maybe he likes jack a little more than he cares to admit. maybe he just doesn't mind. maybe he's just happy that for once, someone is kind to him. maybe he's just obsessed with the way that when jack touches him, it's soft and gentle; it holds all of the warmth of henry touch but lacks all of the pain and grief that came afterwards.
it isn't fair to compare jack and henry. it's like comparing pyrite to gold; sometimes, the real thing is just better. he doesn't feel like a fool when he's with jack -- real love is golden and unconditional. he would stray wherever jack went. follow anywhere he leads, so long as he's beside him.
but how can he say it? how -- how can he express a love this vast, yet so unlabeled and free? is it even worth trying to contain? worth trying to express? of course; jack has to know how much he loves him. but how?
it used to be so easy. he's said it before, he knows he has; this isn't the first time he'd be telling jack he loved him. but this time it isn't a passing admiration; this is a brutal confession. these words pin him down and crucify him on a display for jack's judgement and discretion -- one man has the power to free or break him.
now, dave watches jack's lips move; realizes he's been speaking the entire time and remembers they were mid conversation, the moment dave got caught up in his own infatuation. all words are lost to him, still, and now jack stares, waiting for a response. dave has none to offer -- nothing verbal, anyway. instead, he just laughs; he laughs and claps a hand on jack's shoulder. his eyes crinkle and his smile is soft, stretching further than it ever did when it was coaxed by blinding, abrasive fuchsia rather than warm, sunset orange.
in seconds, jack's brow furrows. he's confused, but dave only laughs a little bit harder, so jack smiles, and then he smiles a little bit wider -- and then they're both laughing, and neither can recall what was funny to begin with. and maybe dave got a little teary-eyed somewhere in the middle of it all, because this is what it always should've been.
he doesn't like to compare them, but jack is the kind of man henry should have been. and maybe dave is just a little bit too obsessed with how proud he is of them. of jack for being good, and ... of himself, for finding good.
they calm down and straighten up, and dave retracts his hand from jack's shoulder. the absence is palpable, and so jack takes a step closer. it feels like an answer to the unspoken statement; a silent reassurance.
"were you saying something?" dave asks.
"i don't remember," jack admits with a small smile. there's that tooth gap again; the one that whistles when he laughs the way he just did, with dave. they can take it day by day, linger on the moments as they come.
why is the dsaf fandom so small. my brethren and .. sister-en. please come here to me engage with me bind with me . let my account be a beacon of dsaf and fnaf for us all
sweet jesus does anyone want to explain to me why i'm CRYING over the ending of a stupid dated meme game with a purple lizard bunny man and a stretched soulless grotesque tangerine
