Chapter Text
The man at the bar has been looking at him for the last half hour, a soft, barely there smile on his full lips. He’s tall and slim with long, spindly fingers that delicately grip his martini glass. Joe keeps wondering what they might feel like on his skin, except he has the distinct impression that he might break the fragile looking man if he tried anything more than a little back seat bingo. The light over the bar casts a warm glow to his smooth, dark brown skin. He has a nice enough face, sharp cheekbones and dark eyes under well-defined brows…
It’s not that he’s never been hit on by a man in the open, but it doesn’t happen often enough for him to have gotten used to it. Joe’s still continually surprised that this isn’t a thing hidden away behind closed doors anymore, spoken of in code only those in the community understood to keep from being jailed or worse. The fact that men could walk hand in hand with one another down the street in broad daylight still caught him short most days, and he had to admit that the Ethels still made him pretty uncomfortable. That women could be openly in love instead of being sister spinsters cloistered away from the ravages of menfolk, now that one is easier to get his head around. It hadn’t been until he’d come to this timeframe that Joe had even thought of what he might want or not and now there are so many options it could be overwhelming.
And then a nicely curved dame leans against the side of the piano and captures Joe’s attention away easy. Her bright red lipstick matches perfectly to the red of her low cut dress. She leans further, arms pressing alongside her premier bubs all framed with glittering jewelry that looks like diamonds, and Joe spares a glance over them before his manners kick in and he turns back to her face again. She’s grinning like she knows exactly what he’s doing and then she requests a song. He knows it, so as soon as he’s finished with the current piece, he flows right into the new one. The woman’s smile widens. She reaches into her bust and draws out a few bills, tucking them with deliberate care into his shirt pocket. She asks when he finishes for the night and when his break is, then she wanders away.
It’s not until she’s gone that Joe realizes there’s something sitting on the last ivory: a small, round candy, brightly colored in its cellophane wrapper. He’s not sure if it’s there by mistake but he’s long since sucked away the licorice drop he’d popped into his mouth at the beginning of the set and he doesn’t have anything else on him. Joe debates it but at the end of the song, he unwraps the candy and drops it on his tongue. He winces a little at the super sweet flavor but there’s something bitter and almost like peppermint under it that is actually really nice. He sucks on it as he goes on through the set. His gaze wanders back to the bar but the man seems to have gotten company with a few ladies at one of the tables and the woman is gone. Ah well.
Not that he would have really taken up either invitation- or maybe he might have, if they talked sweetly enough to him because it’s been a long time. A really long time. And... Well, nice to think about, even if he’s missed the chances now.
The moment Joe tries to stand up to go on break, dizziness sweeps over him. He manages not to fall but only just, hands braced on the piano as he tries to blink away the spots in his vision. What the hell…? He shakes his head, feels worse, and then turns carefully for the door. It’s stuffy in the bar, that had to be it. He needs to cool down, maybe drink some water. When was the last time he’d eaten? He didn’t think it was that long ago-
“Yo, Egbert, you okay?” the bartender calls out but Joe waves him off.
“Just need some air. Back in a shake.”
He makes it outside and then stumbles over his own feet, but there’s a pair of arms waiting to catch him. Joe huffs against a round shoulder as he steadies himself, straightening up. The red bird’s lips move over worried words but he can’t quite catch them. Her voice sounds far away or underwater and everything is off. The red of her lipstick is too bright and her skin too dull and even the deep reddish brown of her hair is fiery in places and almost black in others. He blinks rapidly to try and clear what he’s seeing and feeling, but then he just feels even woozier except that his heart is hammering fast in his chest. What the hell is wrong with him? He can’t think, barely knows what he’s even feeling right now.
The dame touches his face and… Huh. Joe stares at her as his entire world lurches only to tunnel down to nothing but that one feeling. Her skin is so very soft and warm. The corners of his lips twist up abruptly into a grin he can feel all the way to his toes.
Suddenly, everything is okay after all.
Everything’s swell.
----
The first call comes in a little after midnight. By Strider standards, this is practically mid afternoon. It doesn’t matter that Dave has a shitty day job to get up early for; he tends to catch up on sleep during his off days because there is no way he’s not going to spend his nights doing whatever the hell he feels like it, customer service hours be damned. Not that it matters right now though, since he’s got two days to ignore the world before he has to go back in.
Tonight, Dave’s done himself the favor of taking a goddamn break from the rest of the people who share his last name or his house. Not that he’s isolating himself or anything, because he’s not Dirk, but there’s, like, seven people between the two apartments and sometimes a dude needs a break. Even a fabulously well-adjusted, ex-celebrity like him. The troll kids are having a sleepover with the Lalonde group and the human kids are crashing in the other apartment for some kind of video game glitch off, so he’s free to stretch out on his couch and listen to tunes in the open, rather than through his headphones. It’s ridiculously decadent. He thinks maybe the next time Sharktooth or Rodeo get on his nerves, he’ll just crank it up until they bail.
When his phone goes off, Dave gives it an odd look. The caller ID pops up with the close up of an almond shaped blue eye (an accidental image capture he just couldn’t seem to part with) and he answers of course because it’s Joe, even though right now, Joe should be at work and huh, had he ever texted back during his break earlier? Well - whatever it is, Dave assumes there’s probably a reason he’s calling, and he’s grown strangely reluctant, lately, to not take Joe’s calls.
The call picks up in the middle of deep toned laughter that sounds a little wheezy and also kind of hysterical and cuts out a few seconds later. Slowly, Dave pulls the phone away from his ear and checks to make sure one of the kids didn’t change around the profile images on him (again) but… No. That’s Joe’s number. What the hell? Did some asshole steal his phone and decide to do the stupidest prank call ever-
A second call comes through in less than a minute and Dave hits the receive button like his life depends on it. And- good god, the giggling laughter is back. Deep, rich chortles, rumbling out without a care in an almost ridiculous cheer. That sounds. Uh.
“Daaaave.” Joe’s voice is bright and light and completely alien, drawing out Dave’s name like it’s a chunk of taffy and he’s going for the high score in glossiness.
“Uh. Joe? Dude, what-”
“Daaaaave.” He laughs again, breathless, and then words start running out in a hapless rush. “Oh my god, Dave. I can’t see a single star out here, it’s terrible. I’m so high up and I can’t see stars yet. And people look like ants from here. Dave, it’s- The light’s too bright. I oughta turn off everyone’s lights so I can see the stars. Why is everything so bright now? Don’t you future folk know how to appreciate the scenery?”
Uh. Holy shit, he’s glad he has his phone on him, mostly because Joe doesn’t sound like he’s at work, and he sounds - uh.
Okay, Joe sort of sounds like he’s been sniffing something a little more hardcore than glue, to be honest. Everything about him sounds off, and Dave doesn’t really know how to begin responding at first, except to listen to him talk. He’s not making a lot of sense. And what the hell is that weird, loud noise in the background? It’s like Joe’s in a wind tunnel or something.
“You should come fly with me,” Joe purrs into the phone and this is getting less okay by the second. Dave’s bad touch sense are going haywire. “You wanna go fly? I can show you everything. It’s great.”
Dave stares ahead, eyebrows up to his hairline while Joe laughs himself stupid again. Wow. Okay. What? “Uh. Joe? Aren’t you supposed to be at work, right now? Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s swell. It’s so- Dave, you can’t even imagine how beautiful everything is from here. The pictures never do justice to the sky.” Is his voice echoing? Where the hell is Joe?! “Who needs work anyway?! Ha, its so stuffy there! And they make me play the most boring pieces. Give me some good ragtime any day! My god, Dave, I could play ragtime for the rest of eternity, isn’t that just aces?!”
Riiiiight. Generally speaking, Dave’s not in the habit of worrying about people when they sound so goddamned happy, but Joe sounds... too happy, somehow. He’s never heard him sound like this, before, and it’s entirely too worrisome. Joe’s the cool balm of baffled but completely unruffled calm Dave needs after having to listen to customers complain all day and this is way not that.
“Yeaaah, that’s. That sounds great, Joe.” It does not sound great. Dave knows Joe is pretty damned great on the piano, and he’s got nothing against ragtime, but something in the way he says he could play it for eternity makes Dave feel like he’s not exaggerating. Also, Joe’s always been kind of dumbly workaholic, so he’s pretty sure that Joe would never say he didn’t need to work. Something is definitely wrong here.
“How about you maybe take a break from all that awesomeness, though.” Dave scowls, straining his ears to try and figure out what the hell the background noise is because it suddenly ramps up to eleven and he can barely hear Joe’s whoops of joy through it. “Where even are you, if you’re not at work?”
The wind noise backs down enough that Dave can pick up ragged breathing he is kind of afraid is Joe’s. That sounds almost painful.
“Your voice is like velvet, did you know that? I just wanna touch it all over.”
What. Dave’s. He’s really not sure what to think about that one. Like velvet. He had not, in fact, known that. Not that he’s not totally and completely confident that his voice is smooth as chocolate, and all, it’s just. He has to remind himself that he is an adult and therefore doesn’t actually need one.
The pause seems enough for Joe to drop it, or he’s found something else to interest him because Dave can hear more now. Cars, people chattering, some idiot’s dog barking like mad- he really hopes Joe isn’t the cause of that because if Joe can manage not to get mauled tonight, that would be great.
“I’m only a couple blocks from you! Ha, Dave, lets go flying,” Joe laughs out and oh thank god he’s close by. Dave’s got no idea what the fuck’s wrong with Joe, but he doesn’t need to be wandering around like this, and he probably shouldn’t go back home to the girls while he’s like this, either.
“I can- I can show you the world.”
“Oh my god, don’t you dare-”
“Shining, shimmering, splendid!”
Joe’s serenading him with Aladdin, now. The guy who has no idea what Woodstock was and missed out on the unironic cool of ‘80s power ballads is serenading him with Disney songs. Why is this his life? Dave huffs out a sigh and shakes his head, already shunting his laptop off to the side as he finds his feet. Might as well go meet the spacecase on the street before he gets into trouble.
“I don’t know about flying, man, but I’m cool with you dropping by. You’ve gotta be tripping nineteen different sets of balls right now.” He summons up as much resentment as he can manage against Joe’s drugged ass in the elevator, blessedly working for once.
The guy in question is laughing, but if it’s at Dave or the crazy in his head, Dave’s got no idea. He hears someone yell but it fades on seriously fast- is Joe running the whole way? Maybe that’s a good thing. He seems to have energy to run the hell off.
“I’m not tripping. I’ve never been so smooth, jazzed over this whole day. Just wait, I’ll show you!”
Dave has about three seconds to wonder about that as he leaves the complex lobby. Then Joe comes out of fucking nowhere and that’s the only reason Dave’s taken enough by surprise that the tackle actually takes him down. Joe’s arms wrap around him as his body hits with the force of a goddamn freight train, sending them both sprawling to the ground but at least Joe rolls off him with leftover momentum. He ends up laying in the grass and somehow laughing harder.
Holy fucking shit, though, that was almost enough to give Dave a heart attack, and he settles his hands on Joe under the pretense of calming his shit but really it’s just because he could use the grounding, for a moment. He breathes out a slow sigh and tries to figure out just what the fuck.
God, Joe looks absolutely wrecked. The blue silk of his button up is ruined, all wet and dirty with half the buttons torn free and one sleeve torn most of the way off. His slacks might be salvageable but they’re as soaked as the shirt and- no, one of the knees is torn through and the second looks half way there. He’s lost his shoes at some point during crazy hour, one sock too. His hair is even more of a mess than usual and he’s grinning so wide, pupils absolutely blown to the point that the blue of his eyes is almost non existent. And- jesus, he’s trembling all over. That’s a shitty sign as far as Dave knows, and he’s dealt with plenty of strung-out celebrities to know how to tell. It’s not cold at all outside, not enough to make anyone shiver, but obviously Joe’s fucked up on something.
He’s... actually really fucking worried, now. He sits up, after a moment, glances to his side to watch Joe laugh, and then shakes his head.
“Dude. What did I tell you about eating mushrooms? Come on, there’s no way I’m leaving you out here like this.”
“I didn’t have any mushrooms,” Joe giggles out. “I was playing and some dame- she was dripping with ice- she talked all nice and then there was some candy. Maybe because I’m so fantastic. Dave, it was absolutely delicious.”
What.
His admirers are obviously not as upstanding as he is. Dave frowns at the confession and tries not to get pissy on Joe’s behalf, but that shit isn’t right. And of course, it never once crossed his mind to maybe warn Joe about the dangers of club drugs, because it hadn’t occurred to him that a dude from the early 1900’s wouldn’t even fucking know. Shit, this was bad news all around.
Joe’s hands slide up Dave’s arms and then over his chest and he looks absolutely fascinated with the cloth wrinkling under his fingers. He grips tight and then jerks, dragging Dave down onto him, and Dave just barely manages to keep from making some completely ironic yelp. Joe gives out a quiet oof as the weight settles and then he chuckles again as he buries his face against Dave’s throat like he wants to burrow in for the winter. His breath is a hot contrast to the cool press of his skin against Dave’s and jesus, how the hell did he get that cold?
“You smell good,” Joe mutters, sounding distracted. “We should have sex. We should have a lot of sex.”
Dave freezes and feels himself go scarlet with how quick his dick is to register it’s agreement. Down boy, Dave tells it. There is to be no Egbert molestation. Thankfully, as much like a teenager as he can act, he does have some control over his anatomy.
“...I’m pretty sure that’s about the last thing we should do,” he finally manages to choke out, already trying to pull away from his grabby, stoned, and apparently very, uh, touchy friend. “In fact, I’m pretty sure that’s the worst thing we could when I’m surprised you even remember your own name right now.”
“John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt,” Joe pipes up immediately and manages to be straight faced for exactly three seconds before he breaks and he’s laughing helplessly again. “His name is- hee hee hee, oh god- his name is m-my name, too- pfffffttttt.”
“Hilarious,” Dave intones flatly, and sighs as he tugs out of Joe’s grip and sits back, watching Joe lose his fucking mind again. Awesome. How the fuck is he supposed to take care of this? Joe busily amusing himself with children’s jingles at least gives him a moment to gather his head and try and figure out what to do, so thank god for small miracles. It gives Joe something to do that’s not trying to touch Dave’s naughty places or whisper dirty nothings in his ear, and while parts of Dave are so down with that, the moral parts of him that are aware that Joe is mega-stoned and probably not actually all for that have a much bigger sway in his head.
When his phone beeps at him abruptly, he makes sure to keep one eye on Joe while he checks it, because Joe’s wily on a good, sober day and he doesn’t wanna know how quickly a weirdly enthusiastic, stoned!Joe can disappear from sight.
-- gravitationalGal [GG] began pestering telurianGladiator [TG] at 23:39 --
GG: have you heard from joe???
GG: his boss just called me and he hasn’t come back from break and it’s been over an hour.
GG: first he wouldn’t answer his phone, but now all i’m getting is a busy signal. :(
TG: calm your tits english
GG: calm your own! this is serious!!
TG: dude hes here
TG: and out of his head
GG: oh thank god!
GG: wait, what do you mean? :( :( :(
TG: he says someone gave him candy so im sure you can put two and two together
GG: I’M GOING TO TRACK DOWN THAT PERSON AND RIP THEM TO PIECES!
TG: yeah i hear you on that one
TG: joes alright just high as a fucking kite
TG: ill keep an eye on him so you dont need to worry
GG: why are you such a good person, dave????
TG: its because im actually a monk from the himalayas ive been indoctrinated from birth to be a saint
GG: i am going to hug the crap out of you next time i see you, mr. monk.
TG: cool
TG: could you maybe cover for him for his job or something i dont want him to get fired but theres no way hes coming back in like this
GG: don’t worry, his boss was mostly worried he’d been kidnapped or something worse.
GG: which sounds like is exactly what happened!
GG: i’ll handle bossman. he’s a good guy. i’m sure he’ll understand.
GG: and probably be just as pissed as me!!!!!!!!
TG: take a piece out of that fan imposter for me if you find her
TG: im gonna get back to joe now hes getting antsy
-- telurianGladiator [TG] ceased pestering gravitationalGal [GG] at 23:43 --
And also... floaty. Dave drags his attention completely away from his phone to stare, caught off guard. Joe is kind of just...floating there. In mid air. Without strings, because Dave’s pretty sure he’d have noticed strings. Holy shit, why has he never thought about some of the weird windy things Joe has done before? Like that one time he went back and Joe knocked the kid over? What the fuck?
This shouldn’t be so weird, he knows. He’s a bonafide time traveller. But floating mid air seems way more fantastical than going back in time, somehow, and he scrubs his hand over his face as he tries to work past that. Jesus fuck.
Joe floats himself over - how does that even work - and sets his chin on Dave’s shoulder, staring at him with his big blue eyes like a puppy that’s waiting to go play fetch. Wind keeps brushing between both of them, throwing their hair and clothing around as it circles them and buffets up under Joe’s body to keep him aloft. Dave guesses, anyway. What the hell does he know about wind powers. Does he look like the goddamn Avatar?
Blinking at Dave’s phone like he can’t really read anything, Joe has the audacity to start chuckling again.
“Daaaaaave,” he calls quietly, his voice low and playful, almost husky, “Dave. Lets short sheet everyone in the building. I wanna replace their shampoo with peroxide. I saw it in a motion picture once and I’ve been dying to try it.”
And does Joe have to sound like he’s trying to seduce him when he talks like that?! Short-sheeting should not sound that sexy. This entire night is turning out so weirdly.
“As much of a good time as that sounds like, I’ve got a better idea. We could go up to the apartment and you could try and teach me the ways of a master prankster. Maybe teach me how to deliver a good joke, or something. Way better than breaking into private property and tampering with other people’s shit.”
Joe grins at him, all happy and floaty.
“You’re really pretty,” he blurts guilelessly (What.) His feet drop back to the ground, or at least close to it. The tips of his naked toes brush the grass and just kind of skim over it. “Gams go on forever. Top notch.”
“I think you mean ‘pretty awesome’,” Dave replies after a minute of solid ‘how the fuck do I respond to that’. He’s pretty manly is what he is, Joe doesn’t know what he’s talking about. “I’m so not the princess of the family, that title firmly belongs to Bro. Uh. The older one.”
Joe snorts into another bout of laughter that sounds almost painful at this point, wheezy and rough at the end. “Sure. If you say so.”
“I totally say so.”
Joe takes Dave’s face tenderly in his hands as he lifts a good foot off the ground again, still grinning from ear to ear. He leans in close, pressing their foreheads together and uh, wow, Joe’s eyes are really, really blue around those big ass pupils, aren’t they. “Come flying with me. I want to show you everything. I want to share it with you. Just you.”
Holy fucking shit, though, what the fuck did that lady give Joe? Well, at least he knows it’s not Joe hallucinating that shit, since he can obviously actually fly, but - Dave frowns, stares flatly at Joe who’s still gripping his face and still very close to his face, talking to him with a bedroom voice he should so not have. That’s. Uh. Shit, Dave’s going to regret this.
“...Alright, what the hell. I swear to god, though, if you sing any Aladdin songs I’m sending us both plummeting to our doom.” Yes, agree with the drugged man who wants to take you flying, Dave. It’s the better option compared to figuring out how to respond to those strangely intimate words Joe just had to tack on at the end. Thanks Joe. Thanks for being a pal. It’s not like Dave doesn’t have fifty other conflicted feelings when it comes to him.
Joe lights up immediately. He bumps his head affectionately to Dave’s (at least Dave thinks it’s affection) and then lets go of his face, only to slip his arms around Dave’s waist instead. That brings them flush against one another and Dave shivers a bit at the cold still clinging stubbornly to Joe’s body. And then he shivers again as Joe murmurs softly against his cheek, “Hold on tight and I promise not to sing.”
The wind whips up with real force around them and Dave’s feet leave the ground. He tightens his hold reflexively but all Joe does is laugh as they shoot up into the sky. In seconds, they’re over the apartment building and then drifting further up into cooling air. At least this explains why Joe was so damn cold. Jesus, he’s pretty sure he left his stomach down there.
Dave’s no stranger to heights or being high up, but there’s a distinct difference between being in a high-rise apartment or business office or ollying out on a skateboard at ridiculous heights and floating midair with nothing under his feet and no support except Joe - who might be stupidly strong, but is still just a really stoned human right now. It’s not that he’s scared, just… understandably concerned.
He makes sure that he grips Joe as firmly as he can without risking the younger man’s airflow. He wishes he’d thought about how fucking cold it was going to get up here, though, he could have insisted he go back inside long enough for a fucking jacket or something. Jesus. At least Joe is sharing in the cold misery with him, even if he doesn’t necessarily look like he gives a fuck.
“You have to see them,” Joe mutters out, almost reverent and then he’s taking them higher up.
They hit the cloud layer and icy cold water soaks into Dave’s clothes. If he hadn’t been wide awake then, he would be now. It’s like a slap in the face, or maybe just the Ice Bucket Challenge ramped up to eleven.
“Dave, look.”
Dave stops his internal bitching and moaning and thinking for long enough to actually look at what’s around them and suddenly he’s entirely aware of why Joe wanted to see this so bad. It’s beautiful - Dave’s spent his whole life in the middle of big cities, and he’s never seen a night sky like this before.
The stars stretch out in all directions as far as he can see, twinkling in every color and size and configuration. The sheer scope of them is just… He doesn’t know what to think of it. Maybe if the city lights weren’t so bright under them, he might see more but… There’s plenty to be in awe of as it is. Despite everything else about tonight, he’s actually glad he got the chance to see this. The air is thin enough that he can’t catch a full breath, but that seems like the stupidest thing to notice right now.
“Huh. If I suddenly become a save our ecosystem hippy, I hope you know you only have yourself to blame,” he informs Joe, because that seems like the most chill response he can manage, right now. It doesn’t help that his shades got left behind in the grass when Joe tackled him. “Alright, so maybe I can see why you’d be so po’d about not being able to see this from the ground.”
Joe laughs, light and gentle, and it almost sounds like him again if not for the breathless edge to it. Even Dave has to admit that the view is enough to put an awed expression on his face. Maybe humbled. Maybe both? It’s not often that he honestly thinks nature is actually cool, but there’s exceptions to every rule, and this might be his. Nature sucks, but maybe not all of nature sucks.
“We could stay up here,” Joe tells Dave, giddy. “When I can’t sleep, I come up here and everything is good. Everything’s wonderful. It could be like this forever.”
Exception or not, though, he manages an awkwardly positioned shrug at Joe’s comment.
“I think it’d kind of lose potency if we saw it everyday dude. Besides, at some point I’d either turn into the human icicle, or my nipples would kill us both. It’s cold as Santa’s dick on Christmas up herrrjesuschrist!”
There are one or two times where Dave has found himself realizing that Joe is an awesome person but still perfectly capable of being a huge asshat, and one of those moments is when he feels the other man’s hands leave his back- He reflexively tightens his own grip around him, and he’s not exactly reassured when Joe says it’s okay. Joe’s hands trail up his arms so he can get them up to Dave’s face. Or, at least Dave figures that’s the reason because that’s what Joe does.
“I was lying, you don’t have to hold on,” Joe murmurs in a softer tone as his smile grows more familiar and less manic. “I’d never let you fall, Dave.”
“You could at least warn a man before you let go of him, fuck,” Dave grumbles, and very pointedly does not look down. “You’ll forgive me if I act like a twelve year old girl about this and don’t test the theory by letting go, right? I’m trusting you with my delicate nerves here, Joe. And I’m still cold.”
“I can keep you warm.” One hand curls through Dave’s hair, caressing the softer locks like he’s trying to calm him down. The other stays on his cheek as Joe continues not fucking holding on.
Dave isn’t sure how he’s supposed to take this because he knows exactly how he’d take it if it weren’t Joe saying it, and even though it is Joe saying it, he wants to take it exactly the same way. He’s pretty sure Joe could keep him warm, in a lot of ways that aren’t rated PG-13, and wow, it’s time to stop watching HBO.
“You don’t have to be afraid, Dave.” Goddamn it, someone needs to tell Joe to stop using the smoulder in his everyday life. “I can’t lose you. So I won’t let you fall.”
Now if only Joe would stop saying things that make Dave half-suspect he’s in an award-winning, box-office breaking romance film. That’d be great. It’d be great if he didn’t get the urge to blush like a maiden everytime Joe says... anything. ‘Can’t lose’ him… That’s a load of bull but Dave still feels embarrassingly good to hear that Joe thinks he’s that important.
Ugh. Maybe spending all his time around teenagers isn’t the best idea if their weird teenage feelings are actually contagious.
He’s almost glad to notice that they’re sinking, because it means he doesn’t have to think of a way to reply and Dave is all about taking the less emotionally toiling way out. Joe’s had a busy night, what with being drugged and flitting about the city, and it looks like he’s finally flagging. He catches them just as they fall below the cloud level, drenched anew and, stubborn as ever, tries to get them back up again.
Dave sighs, shifts enough that he can risk taking one arm away just to draw Joe’s face back away from the clouds. Tries not to notice the rather pleasing contrast between his skin and Joe’s darker tone.
“Dude, I’ve had enough for tonight. We’ll do this another time, alright? Hell, I will endure a camping trip just so you can see the sky. But for now, let’s just get back to solid ground and maybe inside somewhere.”
Joe just blinks at him owlishly and… Wow. Without the manic gleam, he’s looking exhausted. Dave wonders when the last time he got decent sleep was.
“Okay.” Joe smiles guilelessly. Then he adds, “You look good this way.”
“I look good all the time, it’s practically my profession,” Dave defends, because he’s absolutely sure he looks nothing short of perfect. Joe’s laughing at him because he’s so stunned by Dave’s good looks, not because Dave’s hair possibly looks ridiculous, or because he possibly looks like rudolph because fuck having pale skin in cold weather.
At least Joe’s taking his advice that they call it a night, though. They drop down slower than they went up, even if it’s by drops and catches, like Joe’s running himself absolutely ragged to do it right.
At the roof, Joe slows them nearly to a dead stop three feet over the concrete. He settles them down carefully and then lets go. Dave finds his land legs easier than Joe does so he reaches out to steady him by the arm when he sees the younger man stumble like a newborn fawn.
“How are you feeling?” he feels prompted to ask, after a moment, because there’s the vague hope that Joe’s sobering up after wearing himself out, or at least wearing himself out enough that he doesn’t feel like gallivanting through town and pranking everyone he sees.
“Completely jake,” Joe responds as he shivers in Dave’s grip, but then he leans into Dave’s space like he’s trying to soak up his presence. It’s almost cute except totally not, what the fuck. “Good. So good. I’ve never felt so swell.”
“Uh huh. Right.”
He doesn’t sound “so good”. His voice is as wrecked as his clothes, all ragged and rough edged, and Dave’s not at all surprised by that. Nor is he really very surprised by just how much of his weight Joe’s settled against him.
Well. At least he isn’t quite as manic, definitely starting to come off the happy pills even if its a slow crash. Flying must have zapped up a good lot of his nervous energy. Dave pats his shoulder distractedly, wondering what the hell he’s supposed to do with Joe now.
Without looking, Joe flicks one hand and a few seconds later, Dave’s glasses jet up the side of the building. A second wind gust reorients them and Joe somehow manages to catch the errant eyewear without fumbling. It’s kind of impressive.
“Here. I like your eyes but it’s weird seeing you without these. They’re really nice, though.” Carefully, Joe slips the sunglasses back onto Dave’s face, and then his fingers continue back, threading through Dave’s hair. It’s ridiculously intimate, especially how Joe keeps staring at him with that warm, dopely look in his eyes. Wait a second. Dave’s starting to get a certain kind of vibe that he should totally not be getting. The type of vibe that has been vetoed by a majority vote, vetoed so hard that it’ll never outlive the shame-
And then Joe’s leaning in closer and Dave can’t move, struck stupid by the intent he can read. Joe’s lips brush his, all light and almost innocent before they press firmly in place. It takes Dave about a second too long to realize he’s started to respond and then he plants his hands on Joe’s chest and shoves him firmly away.
“Yeah, no, sorry lover boy, but I don’t put out on the first date.”
Joe just chuckles, all low and pleasant shiver inducing, and Dave kind of hates him right now. Jesus christ, Egbert. He doesn’t know if the faint sweetness on his lips is Joe or leftover psycho candy and he really hopes it’s not the latter because god, he doesn’t need to be going nuts right now, who would look after Joe if he did, certainly not Bro because Bro would think it funny as hell to put them both in the most compromising positions possible...
But Joe is also definitely flagging bad and his eyes are tired and Dave really needs to get him settled, whether he’s been infected with the mania or not.
In the end, Dave manages to drag Joe down the stairs to his floor and then shoves him to the couch just about when Joe crashes like a fucking meteor. He goes boneless on the cushions, more like a puddle than a dude anymore, and is out like a light. Bastard doesn’t even have the courtesy to snore to signal said descent into dreamland.
Dirk comes slinking in just as Dave’s trying to figure out what he should do with Joe’s cloud-soaked clothes - he’s not sure it’d be a good idea to undress him, really, mostly for his own sanity but also kind of for Joe’s dignity, too, because Dave doesn’t know how he’s going to react to all of this when he wakes up again. He’s somewhere around considering the pros and cons of just cranking the heating up and living in overheated misery for the night himself when he hears the creak of the door.
“Don’t turn the light on.” He keeps his voice low, because even if Joe’s sleeping off a crash he doesn’t want to risk waking him up before he’s thinking straight; incidentally, it’s the same reason that he bothers to speak up at all.
Dirk hesitates in the doorway, but then he shrugs and flicks his own shades to sit atop his head, and closes the door behind him. He doesn’t move again until his eyes have adjusted, and then he just comes silently across the living room to stand next to Dave.
He’s supposed to be in the other apartment for the night, playing video games. Once, Dave might have asked why he’s back, but these days he knows better than to say anything about it at all. The kid still gets overwhelmed. If Dave were a Crockbert, he might try to think of ways to help with that, but Dave’s a Strider instead and mostly he knows that Dirk will insist that he’s ‘handling it’ if he tries to bring it up.
Dave’s already taking care of one mess tonight, so invading Dirk’s personal life will just have to wait. Joe manages to be one of the few people that Dirk outwardly likes, and Dave’s got no idea what’s up with that or how it happened, but it does mean that he’s not even half so surprised when Dirk breaks the silence.
“So, why’s Bing Crosby passed out on our couch?”
“It’s a bold new campaign to show today’s youth the dangers of designer drugs. Do you feel Jesus talking you into sainthood yet?”
He probably should have lied, but he figures the kid’s seen enough shit that he knows what’s up anyway. Dirk doesn’t even bat an eyelid, really, except to drop his Slumber Party Survival Kit on the floor and kick it away under the table.
“Is that what the ringing in my ears is? My bad. I’ve been thinking Jesus was a bad case of tinnitus this whole time. Want me to go grab a water bottle for when Little Boy Blue wakes up from his acid coma?”
“Nah, don’t bother,” Dave sighs and then turns for the kitchen, waving at Dirk to follow after him. “He should be out a while longer, he only just crashed.”
“Hm. He didn’t seem like the type. What’d he take, anyway?” Dave hoists himself up on the counter, incongruously happy for the chance to be off his feet - so much for a night to himself, without worrying about the dweebs he was fool enough to care about. Dirk gets into the fridge almost immediately, but Dave’s so tired that he honestly doesn’t give a shit if Dirk wants to drink orange soda at one in the damn morning.
Dave starts to respond before he stops, furrowing his brows as he considers.
“You know...I actually have no idea. I thought he might have been trippin’ bad, but it kind of turns out he wasn’t? He was just...enthusiastic. Without reserve, or some bullshit. Also, still kind of a dick. He said someone gave him ‘candy’, and I can’t even believe I skipped the don’t-take-candy-from-strangers schtick with him.” He carefully does not mention the flirting, or the kissing, because Dirk just does not need to know those things.
Questioning it doesn’t seem to be the first thing on Dirk’s mind though, because somewhere in the middle of that explanation Dirk goes still - the kind of still that Dave’s noticed happens, sometimes, when someone mentions some shitty thing that happened in The Game. Dave hasn’t said shit about the game, but it doesn’t make it any less worrying that this happened while he was talking about drugs.
“Hey, don’t go quiet on me now, Soundbyte. What’s up?” Dirk stays still for another few moments before he shakes himself out of whatever the fuck that was, and he knocks the fridge door shut with his hip, pops the tab on his soda a little viciously. Uh. Okay, then.
“Nothing. Just. Fucking tricksters.”
It’s not the first time that Dave has heard this sentiment from various survivors of the game - he has never quite cared about it as much as he does right this moment, but Dirk goes stony silent after that and doesn’t respond to any of his less-than-subtle questions. They share the kitchen only a little bit longer, while Dirk looks increasingly uneasy.
“Did he kiss you?” The question takes Dave by surprise. It’s the type of question that he would really like to ignore, but because he’s lame and because he can’t stop rambling, he outs himself before he even gets the chance to act cool.
“How did you - No, of course not - why would you even ask, he’s out of his fucking - Consent, dude, I shouldn’t have to tell you -”
“So, that’s a yes. You’re not smooth, dude.” Despite the words, though, Dave finds himself the focus of a very intent stare. Dirk’s looking at him like he expects him to start vomiting rainbows at any moment, and - honestly, there’s enough masked concern in that look that Dave is all too happy to pretend he doesn’t see it at all.
“I can and will find another favorite child, don’t test me.”
“I suggest Tavros; he’s a pushover.”
It doesn’t come as a surprise when Dirk finally retreats from the kitchen, ten minutes later - it sounds like he’s taking Tavros’ room for the night, and if Dave weren’t so fucking concerned about fucking everyone he’d think it funny that the kids are all too terrified to think about trespassing in Terezi’s room, even while she’s not there.
He hangs out in the kitchen for a little while longer, just...trying to get his head on straight after this night. It’s certainly one to write down for the history books, but between flying and flirting and stars and drugs, Dave’s not sure what to think of it. It’s far too close to morning before he finally gets to sleep, but at least it’s a weekend. There’s plenty of time left to deal with this before he has to go into work again.