Chapter Text
Jack POV
I woke up early, feeling something warm touching my legs and with the worst headache imaginable.
I looked to the side, groaning, and saw Dave laying there, smiling in his sleep, it would be a lot cuter if he hadn’t broken into my house.
“Dave.” He said, shaking the purple man gently to wake him, “Dave what the hell are you doing in my bed.”
“Huhh?” He groans, stretching and trying to hug me immediately, “G’mornin’ Sportsy, had a bad dream last night…”
“And so you broke into my house..?” I ask with slight suspicion, gently pushing away his arms until he explains himself
“Had to make sure you were ok,” He smiles at me, “You were.”
“Well yeah I can see that,” I accept his trying to snuggle and gently pat his head, “Wanna talk about it?”
“Not much… it was about you gettin’ hurt and it made me decide that I’m your bodyguard now.”
I sigh and pick him up as I go to the kitchen to get breakfast, something simple that I don’t have to focus on.
But as I walk to the fridge to grab some bread, planning to just have buttered toast and ibuprofen, Dave reaches for the eggs.
“What are you doing Dave?” I sigh, setting him down.
“I saw you trying to eat just bread for like the fourth time this week. I’m cooking for you.” He says, more forcefully than usual, but not in a mean way.
“How the hell did-... Are you stalking me again?” I ask, sighing heavily.
“Again implies I ever stopped, now sit down so I can cook for you.”
“No. I’m eating my toast and going back to bed.” I grumble, not wanting to deal with this while I have a headache.
“As your bodyguard it’s my duty to make sure you are well taken care of. That includes not letting you starve if you’re too tired to make yourself a real meal.” He says, puffing out his chest a little.
“... Fine. Wake me up when you’re done” I sigh and get back to grinding up the ibuprofen and sprinkling it onto my toast.
Once I’ve finished my toast I go to the couch, put on some rain for background noise, and wake up to Dave standing over me with a fresh plate of burnt eggs.
"I made them extra burnt just for you! Hope you like them!” He smiles like his mouth is trying to break out of his face, which used to be unsettling, but I’ve gotten used to him doing that
“Urghh… I don’t like burnt eggs much.” I say, still taking the eggs and eating them, even though he looks disappointed that I don’t like his cooking.
“Sorry Sports’...” He’s clearly saddened, so I pull him onto the couch with me and run my fingers through his hair just how he likes, making him purr softly
“It’s ok Davey, it’s the best burnt egg I’ve ever had. You did great on the seasoning.” I say, trying to cheer him up, but he still sighs and holds onto me tightly.