Work Text:
Typically - David King didn't mingle with energy-drink addicted Teenagers, especially the sort that looked like they'd fold like a wet towel if you hit them. That applied to Dwight as well as Quentin, Steve not so much, considering he was more of a jock, capable enough to stand on his own two feet.
No, Dwight and Quentin were different. Even though Dwight didn't need protecting, he might've been a coward and a bit of a dunce but deep down Dwight could hold his own if he had a group to lead.
Quentin on the other hand didn't have the luxury of hiding behind safety in numbers nor did he have the ability to batter his problems out of existence with baseball bats riddled with nails or bare fists bandaged to cushion the blow.
To be fair, in the fog none of this applied to any of them. You'd probably believe David if he'd told you, given that he'd spent no small amount of effort in trying.
Trying or die trying.
Well, dying wasn't really on the table for them either, now was it? You didn't simply die in the fog. Death wasn't an escape here. So maybe that was why Quentin looked wilted. Wilted and sleep-deprived.
"Where the fuck do you even get that shit?" He'd asked the beanie-wearing youth once, referring to his drink of choice; A nondescript black can sloshing with sickly sweet electric green fluid.
"Same place Bill get's his ciggarettes?" Quentin had quipped back over the campfire, "I dont know what to tell you."
That wasn't really an answer, seeing as Clothes and Cigarettes tended to just...appear out of the fog and onto your person. It was, Quentin had noted once, like dreaming. You had to want it and take it without consciously doing so - a dream strength, more of a memory than reality.
So he'd tried it, once everyone else was either out collecting shit or running for their lives. He'd laid down in the leaves and closed his eyes and...thought. Tried to remember what his good running shoes had felt like. How the sole had been worn in just right and how the sole gave good grip even on wet cobblestone...
Cobblestone? Kings eyes opened and found a concerned teenager staring down at him, leaning over the log - dark curls framed by the red glow of the fire behind him.
"You good?" Quentin looked soft, cherubic in a way. Like the stupid little angel statuettes, his mother used to collect and dust whenever his Pa wasn't busy breaking them...or her.
"Yeah," David hummed and he was about to ask the kid if he was ok but the fog had taken them already. The only trace of the campfire being red hot sparks travelling upwards into the night sky.
Grimacing, he found himself stood by the digger in Autohaven Wreckers...in his good running shoes. White trainers with black shoelaces. Staring at his feet for a couple of seconds he made a mental note to thank Quentin for the tip.
Running inappropriate footwear was much easier and given the fact that he heard the demented children lullaby in the distance - he was going to need that extra comfort, going against the nightmare was never fun. It felt like you were doing the worlds longest all-nighter. Worse even, Quentin looked worse for wear after each encounter.
He did find Quentin perched by a nearby generator, looking tired as ever tugging down the handle of the generator.
"What did you bring?" he stage whispered over the corner of the generator, fishing in the flap for wires to cross.
Quentin broke out of his daze, wrenching his gaze over onto Davids's face briefly before going back to looking out.
"I brought a green medkit," he replied, gently nudging the kit with his knee.
"Great, seeing as it's ol' Edward Scissorhands ghosting around. I can rely on you to glue my mug back into one piece once were on our way out."
It was his attempt at gallows humour and to his credit, Quentin did smile - a lopsided bright smile. Success.
He tried to keep his word, taking the heat as best he could - even if that meant dashing into bacon face to take the hit. Quentin needed a break and King was going to do what was necessary to get him that break.
Hurling pallets, running that chicken-nugget looking motherfucker for a loop, all so Quentin could finish the last generator. Popping in the distance as King finally went down. Laying on his back and laughing, out of breath but he was grinning his ass off. Felt like old times, when he'd still been a rugby star - before he'd managed to lose his job, his family, his money.
"What now bacon face?" he slurred up at the nightmare, who looked strangely indecisive after hooking him.
The door hadn't been opened up, King knew that Quentin had an unnatural knack for opening the exits quicker - but the fact that he didn't open any struck him as odd. They were the last ones left, Claudette and Yui had already been sacrificed during the trial.
As soon as the heartbeat subsided, the dreary teen popped out of a nearby locker.
That's why Freddy looked confused, he'd been searching for the kid with that trick the cannibal used all the fucking time. Can't find shit though if you hide in a locker at the right time.
"Peekabo." Quentin quipped up at him, looking mighty proud of himself as he reached up under David's arms to help him off of the hook.
"Smart lad. Now lets get us out of here." He made it a point to ruffle his hair before they stalked off towards the nearest exit, David decided to pass up a heal to instead guard Quentin's back while he opened the door.
The last of the red lights had just flickered on as their heartbeats picked back up, David struggled to keep his eyes open just as the nightmare rounded the corner, barely held up by David's frame as the doors screamed open beside them as King went down for the second time just in the entryway of the exit.
Quentin, instead of running, stuck to Davids side, touching his back with the bandages, backing off to dodge a lunge from his nemesis before touching him again and dashing out of the way- it was, David realized, a way to outplay the nightmare using the entity's own rules. Every break he got, King used to crawl forward before being stopped by the entity during healing.< br/>
Just as they'd almost crossed the threshold of the exit, the nightmare managed to land a slash across Quentin's face, hurling the poor kid through the exit before grabbing King by the back of his pants staring in the horrified teens face.
"Too bad..." he gurgled, "All that effort, for what? Cant save Nancy, Cant save-HRRK!"
Freddy's monologue was cut satisfyingly short by the piece of broken licence plate rammed into his neck; forcibly hurling King back to his feet and with one more dash forward - through the finish line.
"That's why I didn't open the gate motherfucker," King laughed running backwards and waving the piece of license plate, "Eat the Decicive! Tunneling prick!"
and with that, King grabbed his teen by the shoulder and dragged him off into the fog, laughing back until he turned and caught a glance of Quentin's face. Now lit by the campfire again, but still slashed...
He must've been staring for too long because Quentin reached up to his face, just stopping because King grasped his hand before it could get to his face. He pulled the kid in for a hug, holding him just for a moment until he felt the poor kid sag into his arms.
"You did good." he sighed after a while, "Real good back there at the exit."
"You had Decisive, you could've gotten out either way..." His voice was muffled by the fabric of Davids dress shirt.
"He would've moried me, lad. Second hook stage - forgot?" King chuckled, the motion gently jostling Quentin's head as he peeked up at him.
God, what wouldn't he give to see that kid safe and sound out of the fog...
"Now, where's that medkit, since it's your mug that needs gluin' now!"