Chapter Text
The ceiling was cracked and molding. Jack didn’t pay mind to the microorganisms forming in that one corner of the room. There was a harsh smell of… whatever was present, Jack would guess that it’s probably just the smell of his own rotting flesh. Actually, it's probably become one with the room. He feels bad for whatever future patron of this shitty hotel that ends up with this room.
It was night, obviously. But later than before. Cars were still running and loudly driving sound through the closed dingy window. It’s not like the window was built to block sound though, so Jack can excuse that.
He was laying down on the shared bed. Dave was sleeping and, might he add, snoring. The purple cryptid was half on the bed, with half of his limbs dangling off the bed.
Every time he shifted in bed, Jack could hear empty bottles clanking against each other. They could make use of cleaning up the hotel room a bit. But alas, that’s not going to happen.
Jack knows he’s going to fall asleep himself, and when he wakes up Dave’s already gone, having ran off to hell knows where. Jack knows the routine. It’s not new, it’s happened every other time they’ve visited Vegas together.
He doesn’t know whether or not to feel like shit whenever that happens. It’s probably what’s keeping him up tonight.
Yeah, that’s it.
The orange man sighed, shifting to face away from the ceiling and away from Dave.
He found the bed was awfully creaky and loud, and he was a tad nervous of the furniture collapsing. But, considering all the built up muck, Jack also wouldn’t be too shocked to know if the bed has extra structure support from all the mold and rust and mulch. And… the dubious dried sticky stuff. Jack won’t get into that, however.
Sure, Jack was tired. It’s not like that means he can sleep still. He tried to shut his eyes and let the exhaustion take over, listening to the loud ambience of cars passing by and the random couple arguing in the street.
It was still hard. He huffed through his missing front teeth, bringing a hand up to scratch his neck. It still stung from that god-awful booze Dave had in that flask. And the unknown amount of scratches Jack’s been leaving himself.
Old habits never die easily, do they?
He scowled at the groaning floorboards. They weren’t even being stepped on and they still had to make noise.
Huh. Noise… Yeah, that might actually be why Jack can’t sleep. It’s too noisy, and all the beer in his system has worn off by now. So he’s not drunk enough to just pass out with ease.
Jack’s too used to the silence of his house. The only thing that made noise was the vents doing their job, and that had became ambience that Jack fell asleep easily around.
Somehow the nights in Las Vegas managed to get cold quickly, or it was just the fact that Dave’s stolen the only good blanket in the room. Bastard. But it made it feel lonelier.
Call that just Jack missing Dave’s loudness, but he’d call that just being lonely either way. Even if Dave was awake and rambling, Jack would still be feeling the caving emptiness in his chest. Jack would still be feeling like his springlock scars were still fresh wounds.
Jack would still feel a deep unsatisfaction with himself. Like what he’s done isn’t the right thing, which Jack knows. He knows all those kids dead by his and Dave’s hands wasn’t what he was supposed to do. He was supposed to save them.
Maybe then, he wouldn’t have felt disappointed stares from the bear deity he made a promise to. He couldn’t find a reason to care for what The Real Fredbear thought.
But… what would have Dee thought of this? Of all of this?
…
Jack groaned, sitting back up. Now’s not the time to think of that. It’s too late. Far too late to worry. He shook his head, trying to spin those thoughts away. When that didn’t work, he put his head in his hands and just stared at the wall.
It was just as moldy and cracked as the ceiling, albeit it’s missing the popcorn. An old, rotting, wooden wardrobe sat against that wall, with one of those bibles stuffed behind the television box.
The TV was broken, so neither of them had even considered trying to use it. Or touch it. Those things are easy to give out radiation, as far as Jack knew. But hey, the cable had been fun while it lasted.
Nothing was in the wardrobe drawers, since Dave and him had immediately got on the car ride to Vegas after getting out of that Freddy's. And, Jack was kind of glad about that. He’s seen the dead and living bugs in there.
He still wasn’t tired. Damnit. Jack shoved his face in his hands, scratching the itch that seemed to worsen on his cheek.
Maybe it’s because of the noise. Or the light coming from those billboards and street lights.
A cold breeze sweeped through the room, leaving Jack eyeing up the blanket Dave snatched for himself. It's not like that would be the one thing that wakes that heavy sleeper. He sleeps much harder when he's taken drugs too.
Hm. Hold on, he needed to do something else first. His hand searched along the bed in the mostly dark room, grabbing onto anything that even remotely touched his hand.
Which... was literally just the empty alcohol bottles and an emptied bag of coke. The orange man frowned at the abundance of bottles that they've left on the bed.
Jack could very easily excuse it as both of them being tripped out of their minds and couldn't care less, but also, since when is he going to really care about cleanliness anyways? He showers like, twice every three weeks.
Ah, right. He doesn't even bother with the idea of showering. Bastard. It only comes to his head whenever he's covered in sticky stuff, whether it be blood, mucus, or an extra third option Jack is not drunk enough to even speak of.
In fact, he shivered at the memories. And the cold. Right.
Jack went back to grabbing all of those damn bottles scattered on the bed and knocked them off, letting the bottles clank against each other and hit the floor. It actually wasn't that loud compared to the cars driving by.
There were two bottles that had the misfortune of Jack accidentally punting them off the bed with his foot when he went to lay back down, and yeah, they shattered. He didn't dare spare a glance at the mess across the floor over there. He just hoped he didn't step in it in the morning.
He flipped onto his side, facing Dave's back. To note, he was still unnerved by how the man has a habit of not breathing in his sleep. Just dead radio silence. He's never getting used to it. Jack outreached his hand, grabbing onto the blanket and tugging it a bit.
He was very surprised when that was met with Dave's arm contorting behind him to grab Jack's wrist. If Jack wasn't soulless, he would've been by now with how he almost jumped out of his skin in the moment.
...Anyways, Jack quickly shook off the pure surprise he had felt, raising a eyebrow. He was very sure that either Dave is still asleep, or that the cryptid is awake.
One of his suspicions were confirmed when Dave made the strained effort wiggle onto his back, Jack's wrist still in hand. His eyes met with Jack's. "Now, what'd'ya think yer doin'?"
"...You're awake?"
"Yeah, 'course I'm awake. Woke up t'you tryin' to snatch the blanket from me."
Jack scowled at Dave's reply.
"Dave, that's the only blanket this room's got, remember? That second blanket you used as a towel."
Dave let go of Jack's wrist, his grip had been easy to slip out of in the first place though. The purple man hadn't really intended to be rough, nor had he cared. "..Yeah? What'a bout it?"
"I'm trying to sleep too, Dave." Jack pinched the bridge of his nose. He knew Dave was still too sleepy and he's still got drugs and booze in his system to be able to process the most right now.
There was a moment of silence, with Dave thinking. The cryptid sat up, lifting up the side of the blanket where Jack was and offering it. "Ya cold or somethin'?"
"It's not that. I just think that if I had the option to sleep with or without a blanket, I'd rather the blanket option." Jack hesitated, denying the cold allegations.
But hey, it was pretty cold. Not tempature wise, but the wind had been getting to him. He didn't like how it ran through his entire body when it passed by, and the way it made him feel just as much of a husk he knew he was.
Jack still accepted the offer from Dave though, climbing under the thick fabric. It felt much nicer than the wind.
"Alright, Sporty, whatever ya say." Dave laid back down, this time face the orange man. Said man wasn't quite a fan of that. He didn't like the idea of someone being able to watch his face like that for some reason.
He turned to his other side, with his back facing Dave. Now would probably be good for stabbing him in the back, but Jack also knew that was unlikely. Dave was too tripped out of his damn mind to be able to pull off a stunt like that.
...Or maybe he could. Uh. Let's not worry about that.
Dave seemed to take his back facing him as an invite, scooting closer and slinging an arm around Jack's torso. He let him, since it didn't hinder his ability to hopefully fall asleep.
The purple cryptid wiggled his other arm under the orange skinned man, both his arms meeting in front of Jack's torso and crossing over each other. Dave dramatically sighed, snuggling comfortably up to Jack.
Yeah, whatever floats that guy's boat.
Jack sat there, letting time pass by and the wind feel less cold like this. It wasn't exactly warm, per se, or cold. Neither of the two undead men could harbor much warmth with their bodies. But, it felt better than the harsh wind tonight.
He hadn't remembered much of earlier this night, with all the coke and cheap beer making everything a haze. But this wasn't something that'd pass from his mind too easily. Sure, it'd be in the back of his head. But a memory is still better than no memory.
The cars driving by had started to become less of a bother, with Jack's mind starting to let the woozy feeling of exhaustion hit.
Strong, obnoxious, billboard lights had become less of an issue too, disappearing behind Jack's closed eyes. He let himself doze off, with following Dave into the unpredictable pattern of slumber.