26. Your cape is crimson

Summary: They get nasty and violent but it goes a lil too far. Read and find out what happens next.

You know I tried my best to turn your black eyes hazel

And kiss away your cruelty

[matador - Luvcat]

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CREDITS TO (drumrolls) REDPANDABLUES AKA ZAK(DOEK) FOR ONE OF ITS AMAZING THEORIES THEY PERMITTED ME TO USE IN HERE. I'm not going to spoil it entirely BUT it has to do with Dave's method of murder, you might notice it eventually (although it's slightly more subtle than I initially intended it to be)! Ask them about it, seriously, this dude's mind is magic ?!

! Content-/trigger warning for graphic descriptions of violence. !

(! don't try this at home !)

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Red: the color of love, the color of blood. Intoxicating blood which filled his mouth as he dragged himself from the floor again, mesmerizing blood that coated their lips in an enticing red glow. He'd lost count of all the times they'd fought, it happened so often now that he could hardly keep track of the amount anymore. He couldn't remember all the reasons either, before he knew it he'd find himself with a fist raised. Sometimes they'd join an ongoing fight, only to find their hands tangled in each other's shirts somewhere along the way. Evenings flowed into nights and friendly conversation dissolved into violent fights time after time again, it was routine.

It wasn't nice, that wasn't the type of vocabulary which could describe the grossly enticing prospect of finding closeness amidst violence, where blood flowed and mixed like two souls intertwined. It was the closest Jack would achieve to just that. His expectations weren't any different either, he was under no false pretense when it came to Dave's violent tendencies. There wasn't any length he wouldn't go to when it came to Freddy's, Jack had no reason to believe it was limited outside of that. His hands killed mercilessly, there was never a knife held as the fragile barrier between him and death like there was with Jack.

Those same hands swung at Jack, balled in fists that he just barely managed to dodge as he reeled forward to throw a punch of his own. He was aware of the danger he voluntarily put himself into, it only contributed to the thrill of putting his life directly into the other's hands. He'd never do it sober, sensible enough to know it wasn't what was right, but alcohol made the barrier between desire and obligation dangerously unclear. And Dave seemed equally enticed, had a more positive reaction to the violence than anything else Jack had ever said or done, kept seeking it out. They never said anything about it, hardly even talked about it when they'd be wrapping each other in bandages the morning after. Just gentle smiles when they dabbed scattered cuts and open wounds, content in the knowledge that there was care behind the violence.

Red, the color of blood, their own form of love. It poured from Dave's nose, painted his skin, dripped to the floor where it would dry into a murky brown once abandoned by them. Jack's own face was coated in it too, he wiped at a gush that came from his mouth as he took a weak step towards Dave. He was smiling despite it all, completely content in the frenzy that had unfolded around them. Trials of tar ran dangerously down neck, resting on the collarbones exposed by a torn shirt, making Jack's gaze divert for just a moment. His attention was quickly drawn back as Dave fisted his shirt, only giving him a split second to prevent a painful headbutt as he took a chunk of Dave's hair into his hand.

"Fuck sportsy-"

He hissed through gritted teeth, his head still reeled back from where Jack was clinging onto his hair. It was clear that it hurt, that his body could somehow still feel pain, Jack hoped it did. He deserved to hurt, they both did for all they had done, and this was the best punishment he could ever wish for. All the pain, the discomfort and the injuries were nothing but ecstasy when inflicted by the one he simultaneously loved and hated the most, when resulting in bloodshed. He told himself that he sought it out because he deserved it, not because of the brief physical closeness it would provide him with.

"-Ya' really ain't goin' down easy today...'

Continued Dave, hooking the fingers of both his hands in Jack's belt loops on either side of his hips. Jack didn't loosen the grip on his hair, too fearful he would make a move if released, like was once planned. In a swift movement, Dave yanked him forward and slotted their hips together. He could feel him press against his groin, and judging by the bloody grin on Dave's face; he was completely aware of this.

"You know you wouldn't want me to."

He bit back, hoping Dave had heard it amongst people cheering them on and causing fights of their own. The situation had gotten out of control long ago, security hadn't been able to contain the violence anymore after someone joined the both of them. They found comfort in chaos, found that it was one of the few moments where they really could be together without eyes on them.

"Yer' damn right sportsy..."

Dave mused back, and Jack ever so slightly released the tension he had one Dave's hair for him to see the look on his face. His nose stood crooked: broken, Jack knew he'd push it back in place tomorrow with nothing but a wince and slight annoyance. His eyes sparked joy and so did his smile, typically yellow teeth stained red from the blood. He wasn't even bleeding from his mouth, Jack briefly considered that it must've come from his own before Dave's words demanded his attention:

"This wouldn't be half as fun without you~!"

And then Dave's leg hooked behind one of his own, swiping Jack directly from his feet in one rapid motion. He landed on the ground, clashing harshly on his back to the point where it briefly blinded him. His vision, still swimming, came back just in time to see Dave's boot approaching in a kick to the stomach. Reeling across the floor, he quickly prepared himself for the second impact and held his arms open. The second kick was just as bad as the first, it would've absolutely made him throw up everything in his stomach if it weren't for the focus he had on tightly hugging his arms around Dave's calf.

Now, already having a poor balance from every drop of poison he'd ingested, it didn't take much for Dave to fall over when Jack held onto one of his legs. He toppled right over Jack, just barely managing to prevent his jaw from bashing directly into the hardwood as he tried to comprehend what'd just happened. Jack took this time to crawl out beneath Dave, shoving at people who threatened to trample them amidst the chaos. He climbed right back over him, legs on either side of Dave's hips to pin him to the floor, huffing in his victory.

"Not so fun now, huh?"

He bent forward lightly to be able to speak directly into Dave's ear, doing everything to flaunt his supposed victory. To emphasize this, his hands found Dave's wrists and twisted his arms behind his back in what must've been a painful motion from the way Dave moaned beneath him. He flailed his legs behind him, desperately trying to find any part of Jack's body to kick. Jack, with the necessary amount of difficulty, managed to dodge anything too painful. In response, he twisted Dave's arms just a little further to hear him cry out underneath him.

"Fuck-! Quit it old sport!"

He exclaimed, his voice muffled by the sob that followed after as Jack pushed just a little more. He wasn't fearful of dislocating Dave's arm, he knew the man had no real attachment to his physicality and any deformities could be fixed with a few pushes or pulls. It had happened plenty of times before for him to know this, they'd got particularly familiar with the violence.

"Only if you stop kicking!"

Jack offered in response, a smile threatening to creep up on his face. Either Dave didn't hear through the noise around them, or he simply chose to ignore it, but he kept flailing his legs behind Jack in an attempt to break free. As a warning to emphasize his statement, Jack twisted Dave's arms even further behind his back, further than should have been humanly possible. In what must have been pure agony, Dave shot one rapid instinctive kick that landed directly on the back of Jack's head.

It made him see stars and immediately release Dave's wrists in favor of grasping at the painful flare, vision swimming and ears ringing. The next impact against the back of his head was courtesy of the floor Dave threw him against, moving quickly to catch him while his guard was down. Before he knew it his hands were ripped away from his hurt and pinned against the floor, reversing their roles. When his vision finally unblurred, he was met with the sight of Dave heaving over him, blood coating his face in a pink glow.

"You thought it was that easy, huh old sport?"

Dave teased, clicking his tongue as blood poured into his mouth from his nose. He seemed to swallow it all, Jack wondered why he didn't simply let it flow while he heaved for breath under Dave. It could've been anywhere from a singular second to several dozens of them, but eventually Dave decided he had enough and parted his lips. He spat a wad of thick, crimson, blood directly into Jack's face. It hit him in the mouth, intertwined with what was already collecting at the back of his throat, mixing into a disgusting collection of the two of them.

Dave didn't let it flow because he couldn't, there was nothing gentle about Dave and he could only spit overwhelming bursts of blood, that intoxicating red color which Jack desperately clung onto. He was never taught to be gradual, to let the fluid flow its own path rather than force it out all at once. Jack wouldn't want it any other way, knew that he wouldn't allow himself to receive it if done any differently.

"Oh fuck off, you don't have the guts to kill me!"

Jack spat at him, struggling at Dave's surprisingly strong grasp as he moved to pin both of his wrists in one hand. He struck Jack in the face once with his now freed hand, almost playfully with the way he could feel he didn't put half of his strength behind it.

"Pah! Don't underestimate me, old sport!"

He scoffed, watching Jack's face turn to a grin despite the stinging pain that spread through his jaw at the impact. He licked his lips, lapped right at the blood Dave had spat at him, before biting back:

"You like to think you do, but deep down y-"

His fist clashed with Jack's face again, much harsher and with more intent this time around. Dave's lopsided smile had turned into an openmouthed grimace which displayed his sharp teeth gritted together, his glare piercing.

"Shut the fuck up!"

From his harsh demand, Jack concluded that he had struck a nerve. It had always been exceptionally easy for their mood to take a sharp turn when there were gigantesque amounts of alcohol involved, as was the norm for them. Jack, much less bothered by the prospect of Dave's incapability to ever fully kill him, decided now would be the best time to take advantage of this.

"You know I'm right."

He teased confidently, smiling up at Dave as droplets of blood fell from his face, landing onto Jack. With a heave, Dave reeled his arm back and harshly rammed his fist directly into Jack's cocky expression with such force that Jack was certain he heard something crack. It must've been his nose, from the way he couldn't draw a sharp inhale from it anymore once Dave's bruised knuckles retreated. It hurt, it hurt good. This is what he deserved, he told himself as he bit through the pain ravaging his entire head.

"You know nothin'!"

"You know you're not half the man Henry wants you to be!"

A Freudian slip, one yelled in the heat of the moment that immediately made Jack realise he had made a major mistake from the way something behind Dave's eyes seemed to snap. No matter how much agony coursed through his body, it could never make him fully forget the man who led him here to begin with; he was doomed to slip up eventually.

"I'm afraid you'd be wrong."

He'd never heard Dave speak so softly yet with such volume, it terrified him. Dave's anger was loud, big bursts that typically never lasted long; now his voice was the uncharacteristic silence before the storm. He'd expected another blow to the face, harder than before, but instead found Dave's hand wrapped around his throat. The force behind his hand was strong, targeting his trachea so as to strangle him rather than playful choking. For every exhale there was no longer an inhale, only an increase in the deathly grip Dave had.

Dave always killed with his bare hands, Jack had never seen him do otherwise and suspected he simply never had, that it was his preferred way. Purple hands on innocent throats could make the life drain from helpless eyes in record time, it seemed he had perfected the craft through years of practice. He never reached for Jack's throat, always steered clear of it as if to show his real intent behind all the kicks and punches. But now that he'd crossed over the line, Jack feared for his life as his last puff of breath was stripped from him.

He tried to speak, tried to apologise and take his words back, but his voice came out weak and rasped. Just briefly, he considered he might have been apologising to Dave in his last moments, and he wouldn't want it any other way; he just wished his expression wasn't so affected by unbridled rage. His vision clouded, making colors extraordinarily bright and then suddenly dull before Dave vanished from his sight whole, leaving only the contact between them as proof of what had been. With his hands still pinned above his head and his helplessly flailing legs making no difference, all he could do was spasm and pray Dave would be merciful.

And then, suddenly, he drew a painfully sharp inhale that cut through the ringing in his ears and the clouds in his vision. He coughed, blood splattering against his hand as he reached for his throat, rubbing along the sore spot. Someone must have succeeded in pulling Dave off of him, as multiple of the unsuspecting visitors that had gotten caught in their massive barfight gathered around them. Dave, averting Jack's gaze at all costs, was sprawled out not far in front of him. It was then that he realised Dave had been completely prepared to kill him, only to prove him wrong for the sake of someone who had done nothing but cause harm.

It filled him with rage of his own, made the prospect of fighting all the more appealing; momentarily blinded him of any reason. He was really more angry at Henry, the fact that -under the wrong circumstances- his name alone could warrant such a reaction from Dave, as if he had been trained to. Maybe he was, Jack would have plenty of time to wreck himself over the possibility of that when he would recall this moment for years to come. Now, though, he found himself lunging for Dave before the crowd around them could bother them with concern.

"You think you can kill me?"

Now it was Jack's turn for his voice to sound chillingly cold and calculated, fisting a handful of Dave's hair. He whined, like he'd been the one who just got nearly strangled to death instead of Jack, as he forced his face towards him.

"He left me there to die, but guess what? I'm still here."

Dave's arms threatened to give out beneath him from where they supported him on the floor, if Jack had been any less fueled by rage and alcohol he would've seen the regretful tears that began emerging.

"He couldn't kill me, you're foolish to think you could even come close."

He had come close, Jack was bluffing to chalk up the fact he only lived because he'd been granted a second chance, one that he discarded for a life of violence and blood. He felt doubtful Fredbear would save him now if Dave was given any longer, his death would be ugly regardless. A dank saferoom or a crowded Vegas pub, at least he would have someone crying instead of laughing over his corpse in the latter.

Crack

Before he fully realised it, he'd bashed Dave's face down on the hardwood floor. For just a moment it felt like he wasn't himself, pulling him back up by his hair to watch blood pour from his mangled face onto the floor below. For that brief second, a voice chiming through his head told him that this was what was necessary for Dave to learn, that he had the right to teach him. He shook his head, repressed that presence with all his might, he'd gotten good at that ever since it first appeared.

Crack

He still had to show he was equally as dangerous as Dave was, that he couldn't be threatened in such a manner. It was crucial to their dynamic, if he showed he was anything below Dave then he would know he held power over him, and Jack didn't want to feel helpless ever again. As much as he tried to hide from it, there were traces of Henry within Dave and those terrified him, made him all the more aware of the presence that tried to reach his thoughts.

Crack

He couldn't even see the purple of his skin anymore as he hoisted Dave's head up again, it was all soaked in blood, and it somehow made him look more human than before. They both went too far today, surpassing the playfulness of their fighting through deathly threats, and Jack only seemed to realise this as he heard his own squeaky inhale upon seeing the way Dave seemed lifeless. His mouth hung open and his eyelids shut, body limp against the floor. With the way everyone had given up their own altercations to gather around them, they were the eye of the storm.

And then people started yelling, Jack heard the word dead mentioned more than anything: sometimes hushed and questioning, sometimes loud and accusing, always concerned regardless. Just as the absolute horror dawned on him, several members of the crowd had taken him by the arms and quickly dragged him away from Dave's body. His head fell to the floor once Jack untangled his hand from his hair, a thud that showed Dave could've done nothing to catch himself, not anymore.

The urge to start fighting against the strangers only became stronger the further they tried to remove him from Dave, flailing for anything that would help him until he managed to land a punch on one of their faces. The unlucky man stumbled back, removing his hands from Jack in favor of raising them to his bleeding nose. This gave him enough leverage to pry free from anyone who hadn't fearfully backed off yet, and he rushed back to Dave. Several people stood crouched around him, holding hurried discussion but seemingly not actually wanting to touch him.

Jack crashed to his knees beside his body, reaching for him and desperately shaking his shoulders as if it would make any difference. Few people tried to pull him off Dave again once he picked up his body, but refrained from doing so once they noticed he'd pulled him into a hug. His arms wrapped around Dave, pulled them together despite the fact he couldn't reciprocate anymore, body limp against Jack's

"Dave- Dave, no-"

He sobbed, his throat still rasping from what it'd gone through earlier. A hand reached up to comb through his hair, desperately trying to undo the tangles he himself had caused during their fight. Someone approached him, tried to usher him away from Dave's lifeless body, but he couldn't hear over the ringing in his ears. Dave never had a pulse, lost his heartbeat long before Jack even knew him, but he always reacted to anything Jack said to him. He would still breathe despite not having to, but as Jack carefully brought his face closer to Dave's mouth, even that had seized.

"No, no- Fuck, I- I'm sorry Dave, please-"

His pleas went unanswered, met with confused and concerned murmur from everyone aside from the person he actually wanted to hear it from. He refused to believe it, didn't want to be at fault for another death, desperately tried to wipe the blood from his face. It looked horrible, Jack'd done more than he should've ever allowed himself to in a responsive fit of uncontrolled rage. That thick, red, blood that painted his face in a repulsive love, Jack had wished that he was never there to provide him with it.

"Sir-"

Someone tried to reach him, put a hand on his shoulder as he hugged Dave close again, arms tightly around his torso. He didn't want to accept his own grave mistake, didn't want to accept more guilt into his life; it'd force him to confront things he had never even dared to address before. He feared for the fact he never got to do what he should've, that Dave would die in his arms and all they ever did to show appreciation consisted of violence.

"No-! No, he- He always comes back-! I- I just-"

He swatted the stranger's hand away, weakly but with enough emotion behind his voice to get the message across. But Dave remained motionless in his arms, continued growing colder to the point where Jack had to accept he wasn't playing some cruel joke. Tears dripped from his eyes, he thought it was blood at first, wetting Dave's shirt as he begged and pleaded for him to come back. He hadn't cried in grief in so long that it was foreign, making him realise just how severe this really was.

A deep mist slowly began building around the two, settling just above the floor they sat on. Jack didn't think it was physical at first, suspected that it was just a result of his own blurry vision and conflicting emotions, but it brought a cold sensation with it. The haze shifted around them restlessly, catching the attention of some fearful strangers that took a step back. It was just them, floating on the dark cloud that seemed attached to them.

He missed Dave already, broke down over the idea of having to continue a life without him, stricken with grief. The fact he only now managed to address how much Dave meant to him was as sad as it was harrowing, knowing that he never even got the chance to say it. He would do so much, just to get a chance to tell Dave that he loved him through anything that wasn't a punch or a kick that would allow them to tend to each other afterward.

"Please, I- I didn't mean to-"

He wiped at Dave's face, desperately trying to remove his own imprint of blood from it. The smog seemed to stir around them at his words, sending cold shivers down his spine. He wished he'd never been there to hurt him with his cruel love, that Dave could've gone on to live a life without someone who only seemed to bring more pain upon him. He would've been better off without Jack's blood, without his twisted affection that came forth from the inability to process his feelings. He shouldn't have been made to fight, Jack always thought he deserved someone better than that.

He just kept apologising, trying to cherish their last moments as he could distantly hear voices mentioning police. Everything he never said, all that he had contained within himself so they could continue to fight, came pouring out in incoherent scraps of words. One thought that stood out above all; through the murder, the violence that followed, all the various crime, liquor, and blood-filled nights; he had loved Dave. He could never vocalise it, not to himself and not to Dave, only managed to show it through bloodied knuckles. For a moment, as he embraced Dave tighter, it felt like the fog hugged him in return.

"I'm sorry that I loved you-"

He whispered, so quietly that only Dave could've heard, scared of vulnerability even in death. The dark haze rose, seeming almost giddy with excitement as he buried his tear- and bloodstained face into Dave's shoulder with a sob. He'd ruined his own chance to ever have it heard, death seemed to follow Jack everywhere he went; he should've known he was more dangerous than Dave ever was. Even the cold embrace of the mist seemed to leave him, dripping down from his shoulders and manifesting in the cold of Dave's limp body.

"Fuckin' sap-"

It was weak, abysmally so, and Jack must've been the only one who managed to hear it. Despite that though, two weak arms raised and wrapped back around him, reciprocating his embrace. Jack could only cry, tears of joy and sorry intertwined with blood, hug him even tighter than before in the irrational fear that he would vanish again. He let out a weak laugh at the sob that emerged from Jack, how he feared he'd never be able to hear that delightful sound again.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry, I- I thought I killed you, I-"

Dave shifted in place, properly sat up so that he wasn't reliant on Jack to hold him, and gently rubbed a hand along his back. He was anything but resentful, just glad to be back here with Jack holding him closer than any fight would bring them. He'd attempted much the same anyway, he could only guess as to what would've happened if he was given any longer: he knew he would've never forgiven himself.

"Hah- Takes a lot more to kill me, old sport..."

He never realised how attached he had gotten to that nickname until he heard it again, and he felt a weight drop from his shoulders. The fog had disappeared around them, seemed to dissipate right into Dave's body, exposing them to those who'd gathered alongside them again. A sigh of relief travelled through the crowd, and they slowly started diverging their attention elsewhere. Jack just kept him as close as possible, fists balled in his shirt as he kept apologising, pouring his heart out in tears he couldn't suppress anymore.

"Hey, c'mon- It's alright sports..."

He eventually mumbled in response once Jack fell into brief silence. Despite Jack's grip being persistent and his hands remaining in the sides of Dave's shirt, he managed to retreat far enough to cup Jack's face in his hands. He could only sob upon seeing Dave's mangled face in a lively expression again.

"I'm sorry too, okay? And fer' what it's worth..."

He trailed, his eyes shooting away from where they stood fixed on Jack's. He could only see what he'd done to Dave; his nose stood more crooked than ever before, his jaw was slacked, his face full of cuts and bruises, and several of his teeth chipped. He was tainted with Jack's blood, he regretted ever having been there to give him it to begin with.

"I love ya' too..."

And then Dave was speaking again, four simple words that Jack couldn't be more glad to hear. Everything Jack feared he would've never gotten to say; Dave had heard it. With his face still resting in Dave's palms, he finally dared to release his shirt in favor of planting his hands on the back of Dave's neck and his shoulder.

The silence that followed was heavy but not unwelcome, conveying everything they would usually say through bruised knuckles and bloodied fists. Jack's instant regret had said more than his words ever could, the care after the fight was what made it worth it in the first place. Dave wiped a tear from Jack's face, a gesture that managed to make him crack a smile. It was a comforting thought that Dave would still comfort him after everything he'd done, even if he knew he didn't deserve it.

"Can I..."

Dave started, but didn't finish his sentence as his eyes dropped just a little lower onto Jack's face. Jack understood what he meant regardless, nodding his head. And then, hidden between a crowd on the floor of a filthy Vegas club, they connected their lips. It was gentle, contrasting to their usual expression of affection: it was coated in blood. He could see that enticing red color through fluttering eyelashes, taste it on Dave's lips, and feel it cling to the blush on his face.

This was much better than any punch or kick to the stomach, leaning into Dave's gentle touch brought them closer than violence ever could. He hoped that, one day, they could agree on this instead of dancing around it like they did now. A life where he could lean into Dave's touch without guilt or violence seemed near impossible though, so he just enjoyed the moment while it lasted. He could only be glad Dave was alive as he felt him retreat.

Jack pulled him right back in, kissed him with even more passion than before as if scared this would be his last chance. Both knew it wouldn't be, just like it wouldn't be their last fight. They always were so hopelessly bloody. He hoped that, if he tried hard enough, he could kiss away their cruelty. There existed love without blood, it simply didn't fit with them, so they found other ways.

"C'mon, we gatta get cleaned up-"

Dave whispered against his lips once given a second to breathe, breaking the string of blood and saliva that'd built between them. Jack groaned but began the notion of standing up, extending a hand to Dave once he was on his feet again. It couldn't be much longer until the staff would kick them out for this fiasco, and it was best not to overstay their welcome. Dave, quick as he was, managed to steal a bottle of vodka from the display overhead of the bar. It'd be their disinfectant, Jack was familiar with the routine by now.

They'd spend the morning after tending to each other's injuries, trying to piece together fragmented memories. Dave would push both his nose and jaw back into place, oblivious to the way Jack winced at the vague recollection of how they'd gotten that way. Covered in bandages, they'd waste the rest of the sunlight in bed, smoking away at the remnants of their designer drugs until the pain dissipated

It was odd, looking back, but Jack considered that it was one of the few times he felt genuinely happy.

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[5258 words]

I just wanted them to be bloody and bruised at first and it ended up turning into this. Man

Celebrating a month of sobriety today as well... It appears this is how I cope^_^