28. 'Stache Dave

Summary: Dave grows a mustache. That's it that's the summary.

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Sorry I was busy freaking it, consider this a late Christmas special !! Probably won't go back to regular posting yet because I have exams in. A week. Wish me luck and start praying.

Inspired by a conversation I had with some friends, thank you Spring for inventing mustache Dave.

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Dave hadn't been able to grow his hair anymore after his countless deaths. Jack knew this, not only from observing the way his long hair got increasingly more fragile, but also from the way his own hadn't grown past a patchy buzzcut once he was brought back to life. The longer he got to know Dave, and the more he got to observe him in the stressful environment of a Freddy's restaurant; the more he had seen the state of hair slowly decline. What was once a rich, deep purple, bush of curls was reduced to nothing but a pale violet, so thin it nearly looked like it belonged to an elderly person.

Jack also knew he treasured his hair, refusing to cut it even in the decrepit state it was in. One of the last reminders from before his death which he had succeeded to maintain, even despite all the surgeries and accidents that had tainted it in scars. He used it to cover them up, Jack had discovered a variety of them when Dave had allowed him to wash it in Vegas once. It was easy to get it tangled when you spent the majority of your time rotting in bed or roaming the streets in a drugged daze; it'd become such a mess that he was scared of untangling it himself, fearful to lose that last reminder of what once must've been a lively bush of hair.

He'd gladly done it. The various scars on Dave's scalp weren't the only ones he had discovered that day: as Dave sat in the shower, wearing only his boxers for convenience, Jack got one of the rare opportunities to truly study him. When he was clothed he merely looked scrawny, but seeing him undressed hit him with the realisation that there was seriously something wrong with him. He was littered in scars, Jack had deciphered that many of them weren't the result of a springlock accident. They were messier, erratic in pattern and healed poorly.

The most notable scars were two identical ones, of a better medical grade than any of the others, right below his pecs. He'd been meaning to ask about that for a while by this point, sensing something that came from a place of recognition a long time ago. The conversation seemed to be easier on Dave when he didn't have to look at Jack, continuing to shampoo, condition, and untangle his hair while he spoke about the identity he never really felt safe expressing. He was surprised when Jack stated that he understood, and even more astonished when he said it was because he was much the same. He'd scoffed at the fact Dave somehow hadn't realised that before, especially considering the brief glances he could've sneaked while they were changing. Dave managed to be one of the most respectful creeps out there.

A fond memory. They'd slept clothless except for their boxers that night, some weird sense of recognition that neither of them realised they needed up until that point. Exchanged experiences until they eventually fell asleep from exhaustion, a refreshing change in routine from their usual drug-induced comas. Jack had woken up with a strangely content feeling that morning, unbothered by walking around without his shirt for once. He promised that, if he ever got the opportunity to, he would have every day be like that.

One thing about Jack was that he rarely broke promises. What had initially been another one of Dave's offers to ruin Freddy's through murder upon reuniting, resulted in Jack dragging the malnourished Dave into his home. The plan was erratic, and they had spent several weeks in tensed fear of the company coming after them. No one ever came, and Jack began to think that they were glad to have them gone; it'd certainly decreased the mortality rate. He knew their situation wasn't plausible, and there would come a day where he would have to return to his other promise at Freddy's, but he couldn't bring himself to give it up just yet. The sight of Dave, waking up with a smile beside him, was enough to convince him.

When the initial fear passed, Dave outright flourished. He'd never gain the weight of a healthy person back, but he put on just enough to pass as humane. Jack was surprised to find that he could cook, told that he had worked in the kitchen in Freddy's for quite some time upon asking. He was banished because he'd made pizzas with motor oil for a customer who was extraordinarily mean to her son, accidentally setting the kitchen aflame in the process. What once consisted of leftover microwaved pizza for the both of them quickly turned into three solid meals a day, sometimes even finding that Dave's rhythm was healthier than his own.

Money was limited, especially being away from Freddy's, but they made it work through a variety of means, not all legal. It turned out Freddy's pay was especially low, and if they were mindful, they could manage a life that didn't require them to be under constant stressed pressure. Jack had never felt so relaxed watching a movie by the end of the day, Dave on the other side of the couch or - more often - leaning against his side. They'd fallen into the domestic rhythm without much discussion, he felt dubious either of them would want it any other way.

The changes in Dave's physicality were gradual, but prominent regardless. Jack had first noticed it through his hair. They were around each other so much that he hadn't picked up on the diversion, but when he found an old photo of them it quickly became clear. He'd held it besides Dave's face, compared the thin strands of stale violet to the much more vibrant and coarse state it was in now. If he looked closely, it almost seemed like it had grown a little. From then on, he started paying attention to it, noticing all the ways in which Dave grew into a person rather than a discarded test-subject.

The legal aspects of their living situation took a while to figure out, especially since they were still considered criminals by law. They could get around most things, and eventually the topic of hormones had the space to be relevant. Dave had gotten his through a variety of illegal dealers for the most part, and Jack was mortified at the fact he could've very well put himself in danger before he remembered that was the epitome of Dave's existence. Regardless, he still insisted that they both acquired proper dosing through legal suppliers, and taking hormones became another one of their routined habits.

The increased testosterone, along with healthy nutrition and a safe home environment, seemed to do a lot for Dave. He'd called Jack into the bathroom one morning, enthusiasm in his voice. When he walked in, Dave was nearly pressed against the mirror as he studied his face, fingers running over the top of his lip. Jack remained in the doorframe, simply observing Dave's face bloom in excitement (he'd never get tired of seeing that) before he acknowledge him and spoke with enthusiasm:

"Ya' think I'm growin' a 'stache old sport?"

It took a moment for the word 'stache' to register as mustache in Jack's head, Dave's accent had its loveable quirks sometimes. He stepped over to him, tilted Dave's head in his direction with a more-than-friendly hand on his chin, and studied his face. Certainly enough, above his lips, some faint stubble had grown overtime.

"Hmh, could be... Did you have to shave your face before-?"

"Only at the start, but that was before..."

He trailed off, averting Jack's gaze despite how utterly focused he had been on it before. They never spoke about their past or the influence of Freddy's on their lives, but Jack knew by little things like these that Dave was beginning to acknowledge more about it. One day, when their lives were stable enough, he told himself that they'd talk about it. For now, he could spare Dave the knowledge of what he had done to destroy his family for the sake of his recovery.

"Who knows, let it sit and see what happens!"

Jack had encouraged him and, certainly enough, Dave slowly began to grow a mustache. It was unkempt and took a while to even out, but he was ecstatic at the prospect of it. For someone who'd been unable to grow the hair on his scalp, let alone his facial hair, it must've been euphoric. Jack had loved to witness his growth, another piece of tangible proof that he was getting better, healthier. He remembered his own mustache, some fake thing of poor quality that he wore in a vain attempt to make himself appear more masculine. He'd abandoned it after his death, too preoccupied with appearing more human this time around. After all those lies, the fake lives, there was something real growing.

He took the utmost care of it, though their means were limited. Even with their skill in tax evasion, they didn't have much money left on their hands after food and basic needs were purchased. So, Dave's mustache wasn't subjected to much outside of washing it and running a comb through it. Jack didn't mind his unkempt look, though the repetitive contact with the coarse hairs whenever they got particularly adventurous made the skin above his own lip flake. He'd assigned it to the cold weather at first, but it was only where Dave's mustache rubbed against him, and got more prominent the more intimate they learned to get with each other.

And so, Jack was graced with an idea. They'd already discussed that they wouldn't be celebrating Christmas; they weren't financially stable enough, and Dave had never celebrated to begin with. Jack had, while his sister was still alive, but had felt nothing but a dawning loneliness on every holiday that he'd spent alone after that. That was the plan, right up until Jack passed by an eccentric looking barber shop when going for groceries once. He was alone, Dave was working that day, and found himself staring at the variety of products they had on display.

One of which was a grooming set, meant specifically for facial hair. It contained a variety of products; creams and oils he hadn't even thought to exist, along with combs, a pair of scissors and several razorblades, topped with a checkered handkerchief and a leather case. He hadn't even dared to consider the price of it, knowing it would be out of his range regardless. And yet, he wandered in and asked an employee about it. Call him hopeful, but life seemed to be on his side as of late with the state he and Dave currently lived in.

"The men's grooming kit? That's a hundred, sir."

She looked him up and down, as if to judge his choice in clothing. He didn't blame her; his garments weren't that of a man who had a hundred bucks on hand. They hadn't bothered to purchase a new wardrobe yet, and Jack had simply tossed together a purple shirt that had belonged to Dave with scuffed jeans. Though, a hundred was less than he'd expected.

"Alright, thank you."

He mumbled under his breath, intending to walk out the door as he tried to figure if it was possible to scrape enough together before Christmas rolled around. The employee, now with a more sympathetic look on her face, stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. Jack would still find himself surprised whenever people weren't repulsed to touch him, it could very well be that he was doing better too.

"Hey! If you're tight on money, there'll be a sale in two weeks... It'll probably go for seventy then, I can keep one for you in the back?"

Now, that was possible. He could pick up another few shifts at one of his jobs, set aside the money they didn't spend throughout the week, maybe check extensively beneath his mattress. The employee's judgement hadn't come from a malicious place, but rather, one of empathy.

"That- Would be incredibly helpful... If you could do that for me?"

"Of course! If you could give me your name, I'll set one aside."

She gave him a soft smile, pulling a small notebook from her back pocket. Jack hesitated for a second; ever since running from Freddy's, he didn't need to use fake names anymore. He was still so accustomed to living a lie that he often found himself freezing when he realised that wasn't his reality anymore, he hadn't even told Dave his full name yet. He was sure that he could've found out from his mail, if he really wanted to, but that was beside the point.

"Kennedy, Jack Kennedy."

He responded, sounding almost breathless, and she scribbled his name down. Still a bit dazed, basking in the realization that he was slowly building a life for himself, he headed back home. For the following week and a half, Jack took all the shifts he could and made sure only to purchase what was necessary, saving his cash away in a place he was sure Dave wouldn't discover. When the two week mark rolled around, he had already surpassed the seventy desired bucks. He'd spend the rest on the meal that Dave was planning to make for Christmas, just so there was still a little something special that evening.

"Is it a Christmas gift?"

It was the same employee that had helped him the previous time, who now retrieved the kit from a supply closet. She'd been ecstatic to see him again, still remembered his name when he came to ask for the kit. As she rang him up, she kept proclaiming that she absolutely would've given him a bigger discount if she wouldn't have been able to get fired for it. He couldn't help but smile at her unbridled enthusiasm, it reminded him of himself when he was just a little younger than her.

"Yeah it is..."

He said, with that lovesick gaze in his eyes that he would deny ever having to begin with. That was usually reserved for Dave only, but sometimes made an appearance when he spoke about him. The employee retrieved a sparkly gift bag from the counter at his response.

"A friend or family member-?"

She skimmed through a variety of stickers that each had different messages, some address specific relationships such as that of a brother. Problem was, he and Dave hadn't exactly defined their relationship, but it definitely didn't fit either of those. He hesitated, knowing that many didn't approve of their dynamic, and nervously scratched the back of his neck.

"Husband?"

She suggested, just about as casually as anyone could. Jack felt a weight drop from his shoulders at her cheeky expression, huffing a response:

"Something like that-"

"I can put a For my Boyfriend sticker on, if that suits you?"

"Oh please no, he'll never let me hear the end of that-!"

He huffed in laughter, head in hands where he leaned his elbows on the counter, and the employee followed. Hearing someone else refer to Dave as his boyfriend was a whole other sensation, the fact that others could perceive them as veritable was simultaneously comforting and terrifying. It was all foreign and took time to get used to, but he couldn't say he was opposed to the idea of it.

"Oh don't worry, I know how it is! I'll just keep it simple with a Merry Christmas, then."

She concluded, cutting a few pieces of ribbon and putting them on the bag along with the sticker. Jack paid, in exact cash, and was handed the bag. He thanked the employee, wished her happy holidays, and headed out the door again. There was no doubt in his mind that Dave would like it; with the amount of time he spent on it in front of the mirror, he would be ecstatic to have the proper tools to maintain it. Jack just hoped that some of the oils and creams in that set would make the hairs a little less coarse, the skin above his lip was really starting to flake and he didn't want to put their nightly endeavors to an end either.

"I know we said no Christmas and all, but... I did get you something-"

He'd said that Christmas Eve. Averting Dave's gaze at any cost, he held the bag outstretched before him. Dave was hesitant to take it at first, looked at him like he was expecting there to be a catch to the gesture. Jack noticed that he did that alot, often wondered about the reason behind it. He hoped that Dave would find the space to tell him at some point. Eventually, still with a little hesitation in his hands, he took the gift from Jack and began unpacking it.

He was beyond ecstatic, forgetting all about his hesitation when he zipped open the leather casing. He'd picked Jack up from the floor, spun him around like he weighed nothing until Jack had to tell him to put him down, receiving a motherload of kisses immediately when his feet hit the floor again. They'd eaten, Dave nearly jumping in his place while preparing the meal, and after that he had immediately resorted to stalling everything out on the table. He looked so mesmerized, simply observed it all for a long time. Jack would've made a comment on how he somehow didn't get bored sitting like that, until he noticed that he was staring at Dave for an equal amount of time.

They both had a day off that following day, Christmas morning, and Dave had immediately headed into the bathroom once they'd eaten their breakfast, which Dave served them both in bed like usual. He was still foreign with most of the things in the kit, considering he hadn't lived a life with a lot of money, nor facial hair for that matter. Jack walked in on him standing before the mirror cluelessly, turning the razor around in his hand, eyeing the blade with cation.

"I can help, if you want-?"

Jack offered, leaning against the doorframe, still in the lousy shirt he wore to bed. Dave would never get tired of seeing him without pants, and let his eyes linger for just a moment before snapping himself out of it and gratefully nodding at the proposal. Jack ordered him to drag everything onto their bed, given their height difference made it difficult for him to do so while standing. With Dave sat back against his headboard, Jack straddled him by sitting right over his lap, knees on either side of his hips. God, he really loved seeing him without pants.

"Alright, I think I'm going to have to clean you up first..."

Jack concluded, taking Dave's chin into one of his hands and moving his head into different angles to examine the way his mustache had grown. It'd gotten quite messy the longer it grew, uneven with stubble beginning to pop up all around, a varying length throughout. Dave just nodded, too mesmerized by the intrigued look on Jack's face, resting his hands on Jack's thighs.

"Sure sportsy..."

He mused, only snapping back in focus when Jack picked up the razor that came in his kit, examining the blade. The sight of it still made him sick to his stomach, and not only because it reminded him of the blood on his hands. The fact that, if Jack wanted: he could cut off all the hair just like that - all he'd finally been able to build - terrified him. He had no idea what he had even done to earn otherwise. That was not to mention that Jack could hurt him if he wanted to; he was practically trapped beneath him, and that fresh blade was sharp enough to do substantial damage. He would know.

"Okay, sit still now-"

Said Jack, emptying some sort of shaving gel onto his fingers and applying it right above Dave's mustache. It wasn't that extraordinarily cold to the touch, but made him shiver regardless. One of Jack's hands was loosely holding his head in place by the chin, the other bringing the razor up to his delicate skin. He'd already squeezed his eyes shut, but when he made contact with the cold metal he outright winced. Jack retreated immediately.

"Dude- Is something wrong?"

He inquired, confused upon seeing that he hadn't caused any damage to Dave's skin. Dave's eyes were anywhere but Jack's, as if that'd somehow allow him to avoid acknowledging his reaction. When all you'd ever associated with the blade was harm, it was only natural to duck from it.

"Ya' won't hurt me, right-?"

He spoke meekly and uncertain, his voice fragile. Something within him, so deeply integrated that it surpassed his better reasoning, still believed that he was nothing but a disgrace deserving of harm. Jack had done nothing to betray his trust, saved him from himself several times, and yet he was still expecting some ulterior motive.

"No, of course not! Why would I-?"

Dave'd asked himself that many times. Why would he deserve to hurt; wake up with blood soaked bandages and an aching pain, day after day? Some greater good, he'd been told so many times he started believing it. But, then again, what would Jack gain from destroying what they'd built; ruining the proof of his health and happiness. He'd gain nothing, and for once: that word comforted Dave more than it horrified him.

"Dunno... Ya' can continue, old sport."

He answered, his voice far more certain now and his eyes finally meeting Jack's. His face had that same lovesick look on it that Jack sometimes had too; what treating someone like a person couldn't do. Carefully, as if to give Dave the time to brace himself, he brought the razor back to his face. In one smooth motion, he cut down on the hairs and stubble that'd sprouted in diversion of his mustache.

"You sure Davey-?"

Jack asked, feeling Dave tense under him. He knew that nickname was enough to receive a guaranteed honest answer, and he didn't question any further once Dave hummed approvingly in response, instead focussing on cleaning up the surrounding area of his mustache. It went smoothly enough, whatever gel came with that kit made it so that he didn't nic Dave's skin at all while he worked.

It was awfully intimate. Gently coaxing Dave to tilt his head whenever he needed a different angle, obligation without request; blind devotion. Every time he leaned in closely to check an area, he could feel Dave's shaky breaths against his face. His hands still rested on Jack's thighs, occasionally squeezing when he moved back to check his progress. The silence they worked in didn't help either; only each other and the contact between them to focus on.

Eventually, much to both their disappointment, Jack finished and wiped the remaining gel from Dave's face with the handkerchief. He already looked much neater cleaned up, without stubble and stray hairs. Jack reached for a pair of scissors in the set, one that had a comb in place of one of the blades, meant to even out sections of hair. Dave was still visibly nervous, but gave no protest as Jack started snipping at the ends of his mustache. He made sure only to cut what was necessary, knowing how attached Dave had gotten to his facial hair.

"That should do it..."

Jack concluded, leaning back to admire his work. He looked almost distinguished now, if it weren't for the smirk on his face. Jack rummaged around the case, pulling out a tube of product that had softening and nourishing qualities. He pressed it to Dave's chest, who took it without diverting his eyes from Jack's.

"Go wash your face and have a look, put some of that on it after."

He ordered, removing himself from Dave's lap. The man practically jumped off the bed, rushing to the bathroom. Jack could hear him squeal in excitement, unable to suppress a prideful grin of his own as he got to work packing the case back up. Dave took his time, presumably admiring his reflection for the first time in years. Patiently waiting, Jack placed the kit on his nightstand before swiping stray hairs from the sheets.

"Ya' really know how to make a guy look handsome, old sport!"

Dave proclaimed upon re-entering their room (Jack still didn't know when he'd started calling it their room, dubious it'd ever been different to begin with). He was beaming with joy and confidence Jack had only recently seen on him. It was a good look, Jack felt dubious there was a length he wouldn't go to just to see it more often.

"You were handsome before too..."

Jack coed as Dave flopped back on the bed. Heugh. Cheesy. No matter how intimate or serious they were by now, affection through words was never quite their thing. Jack much preferred giving gifts or showing acts of affirmation, emphasized by the kit he had just used to tidy Dave's mustache. Dave, though, was ecstatic enough to entertain his vaguely flirtatious comment:

"You're just sayin' that because ya' like me, sportsy."

Dave teased, laying on his side with his head propped up in his hand, eyes locked on Jack's as a grin spread across his face. Jack scooted up beside him, uncaring for the little distance between them as he scoffed:

"What could I possibly have done to make you think that-?

He spoke with sarcasm, putting on feigned cluelessness. Dave moved nearer, placing one hand on the other side of Jack and leaning over him. He still had that same smirk on his face, the mustache complimented it well.

"Oh, I dunno old sport... Goin' through the effort of gettin' me one of those-"

Dave nodded his head towards the grooming kit, Jack could feel the air between them shift as he did.

"Usin' those gentle hands o' yours to tidy me up, seems awfully romantic ta' me old sport..."

He had leaned in so close by now that Jack could feel the hairs of his mustache graze his own lips as he spoke. With a playful laugh, and awfully heated cheeks, he shoved Dave away with a hand to his face.

"Don't flatter yourself, I just wanted you and your sandpaper stache to stop scraping against me!"

Jack teased, poorly mimicking Dave's accent as he couldn't help but chuckle. Dave returned over him in an instant, pressing his back flat to the sheets by pinning his wrists. They playfought more often as of recent, there was finally room to do so without fear lingering in the back of their minds.

"Oh c'mon, ya' mean to say ya' got it all for yourself?!"

Dave laughed, leaning in closer to Jack's face. He didn't fight back, there was no need to, instead wrapping his legs around Dave's hips. They had each other trapped, like a moth to the flame.

"Uh-huh! That's how much I don't like you!"

Jack joked in response, shooting up to steal a quick peck from Dave's lips. The surprised look on Dave's face when he retreated would never manage to get any less priceless. He quickly regained his composure though, speaking with cocky confidence:

"You know ya' love the 'stache, sportsy!"

"Damn right I do-"

Kissing Dave never got any less enthralling. His hand on the back of that oddly slender neck, contact between lips that got increasingly gentle, and that damned mustache that pressed against his upper lip. He could still feel the smile on Dave's face when he freed a hand and pulled him in, kissing him deep and invasive. They'd already invaded just about any part of each other's lives, and found increasingly less difficulty in letting one another in. This was especially easy whenever Jack tilted his head and pressed his tongue to Dave's lower lip.

Messy and unbothered, a chase of pulling and pushing that had them breathless between lips crashing together. The warmth of another person, so impossibly close yet never near enough, only encouraging him to push further. His hand snaked into Dave's hair, gentle tugs queuing needy whines, his hair was finally strong enough to do such a thing. Jack couldn't help but dig his teeth into Dave's lower lip when they retreated for a much needed breath, dragging it out with a smirk that matched Dave's own.

"You're all messed up again..."

Jack said with a giggle upon seeing the way Dave's, previously combed out mustache, was a mess from the sloppy kisses. He ran his fingers along it, trying to tidy it up, to no avail as Dave began peppering his face in kisses. He'd released Jack's other hand somewhere in the mess of it all, using both of his own to cup his face in his abnormally large palms. Despite the feigned protest Jack vocalised, he leaned into the touch immediately.

"Ya' can mess me up any day old sport-"

Mumbled Dave in mesmerization, not giving Jack time to respond as he pressed their lips together again. It seemed that, with the new life they'd managed to build for themselves, there was finally space to simply be gentle. They slipped into some sort of full body hug, barely parting as they moved around in their love-laced cloud built of filthy bedsheets, like they'd never want to be apart again. Tongues meeting somewhere in the middle, a perfect compromise between the heart and the soul.

"So long as you're around to fix it."

Dave mumbled against his skin, hair grazing his upper lip and nose, a smirk so prominent he could feel it with his eyes closed. Another open mouthed kiss found its way to his mouth, reciprocated without question nor obligation. Jack had to give Dave a gentle tug on his hair for him to move away and be able to so much as get a word in:

"Always."

Jack promised, a promise he knew he'd never break. He considered that he should've let that employee put one of those stickers addressed to a boyfriend on the gift. It just seemed fitting, was all.

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[5101 words]

I need to shoot my fat load of jizz in his mustache.