Archive of Our Own

It had been an amusing past few hours getting Jack drunk while Dave stayed sober. They're at a bar, unfortunately not in Vegas since they haven't found a way to fuck over their current Freddy's location (Yet.) But still, one step at a time and their patience will reward them. 

It’s hard not to down glass after glass just like Jack as the hours whittled away but Dave is testing something. Jack, the orange piece of shit, is just that. A piece of shit. Not too unlike Dave. Though he's more subtle about it. And since the two of them are always side by side, Jack actually seems normal in contrast. 

Yet it always irks Dave whenever Scott says things to Jack like, “I expected this from Dave but not you!” 

Sure, compared to Dave the orange fucker's pretty tame and sure he doesn't go around killing kids without a little prompting but still! Jack's the type of guy to go around fistfighting mysterious giant scuttlers. And children. And Jimbo that one time for some reason. Which of course resulted in Jack's K.O. because of the makeshift Chernobyl Jimbo somehow managed to recreate in his spray bottle. Scott had berated them in the bathroom for fighting during work hours but it was more so just to Jimbo because Jack was –what everyone assumed–dead on the ground. Dave was just about to mopily dump his body into the dumpster per Scott's orders before he sprung back to life and panicked, almost taking an eye and an arm from Dave. Which was the cause of the second scuffle that day but this is getting a little off track, isn't it?

Dave's eyes focus back on Jack after shaking away his memories of their more eventful days. Jack has his head planted on the table but looking to the side with his eyes wide open. 

Dave narrows his eyes. He was hoping that Jack would be more talkative. He wanted to crack his old sport open and see what goes on in his head. How does a guy stay so reserved and unknown while always acting on impulse and being a piece of shit?

Still, when Jack reaches for another drink, Dave catches his hand. He wants him drunk, not passed out. Jack turns to look at him but focuses on something else.

“Why're you fine?” Jack asks, voice slurred. 

Dave suppresses an endeared chuckle. “I can just drink more than you.” 

“What.” Jack seems to be weirdly distraught at that. “No.”

Of course, Dave hadn't been drinking at all. Just pretended to take sips here and there and with how fast Jack was downing his own drinks, he hardly noticed. 

Jack puts his hands on his head like the world is ending and Dave thinks this is enough for today. 

“Let's go back to your house, old sport.”

No response. Not even any movement. Dave tilts his head to try and get a better look at Jack. “Hey Sportsy, ya dead?” 

Jack lets out a weird noise that sounds like something between a gag and a hum. Dave sighs. He looks around before standing up and quickly hauling Jack out of the bar. Without paying of course. 

Jack doesn't struggle, surprisingly. Any other time Dave tried to touch him, he'd twist away like water between his fingers but he's probably too drunk to care right now. Dave would be ecstatic at this opportunity to feel up his old sport if it wasn't like dragging a sack of rocks. Jack is physically quite smaller than Dave but even with one of Jack's arms around him for leverage, Dave feels like the world is tilting to the side.

“God, you're heavier than you look,” Dave complains as he considers just throwing Jack over his shoulder. “What have you been eatin’?” 

“Eatin’ this dick,” Jack mutters.

“You're hilarious.” Dave rolls his eyes, not even bothering to explain that Jack just implied that it was he, himself, who was eatin’ this dick. 

At one point, Dave does throw Jack over his shoulder who's only complaint is now his only view is Dave's flat ass. Okay. He doesn't bother making sure Jack's head doesn't hit anything when he turns corners. 

To which he does hear a thunk and then a groan as he walks through the narrow hallway outside of Jack's room. How Dave got in the house without Jack's help is nobody's business.

Dave throws Jack onto his bed as they finally make it into his room. He rolls around as Dave stares at him from beside the bed. Was this fruitless after all?

“Y'know,” Jack suddenly says, “I think we should kill every bear.”

“What?”

“Like, they're evil. They're so evil. I can even feel their evilness from recreations of their likenesses. Y'know? Fredbear? I don't like wearin’ that shit but I do and it makes me feel evil. It's spreadin’ t'me.”

Okay so this is just nonsensical babbling. And nonsensical babbling is usually only fun when both of them are inebriated and spewing bullshit to each other until neither of them are coherent. Yet Jack seems more willing to talk in the privacy of his own home so Dave waits to see if he says anything interesting. 

It's astonishing how Jack is able to fill the silence for hours. That's usually Dave's job. He isn't complaining too much though since he loves to hear his old sport talk. But Jack manages to change the subject to his love for doggos, then he steers back to Freddy's and how every location seems to have some dogs somehow and then he goes on a side tangent on how he thinks Matt isn't human and more closer to a god but also not quite because of his aura. Not a good or bad aura, but a weird aura. A Matt aura. Dave slightly agrees but he's also getting bored. Even the way Jack snips at him when he pokes him is getting repetitive. 

Maybe he should get drunk too. He memorized where Jack keeps his liquor and he probably won't mind if Dave borrows some, right? He doesn't want to conclude that his Sportsy manages to hide himself behind walls even in a drunken state (or that he's just straight up boring) but it is what it is. He moves to go rifle through the cabinets in the kitchen but Jack sits up so abruptly it makes Dave flinch and look back at him. What is it now?

“Wait, pick a number between one to ten,” Jack says as he points his finger at Dave. 

Dave looks at his finger suspiciously. What game is he playing now? Knowing Jack, it'd probably range from one to ten pats on the head to one to ten smacks across the head. And normally, Dave would risk it for the head pats but he's already a bit impatient at this point so he says:

“One.”

Jack's face falls a bit but then he shrugs. “Alright, one second of kissies!” 

Dave freezes like a deer in headlights as Jack moves closer to him while doing grabby hand motions.

Wait a moment. Wait wait wait wait w-

“Wait-”

Suddenly, all Dave can see is orange. A type of warmth he's never felt before wraps around him as Jack becomes impossibly close. He doesn't move. He's stunlocked.

And it's over before he can process what's happening. 

Jack flops back down onto the bed, instantly asleep. 

Dave stares at him, unmoving, for what feels like hours. 

He doesn't drink that night. Or sleep.

-

Jack wakes up in his bed with the worst migraine he's had in a while. Blinking up at the ceiling, he tries to recall what happened before he passed out. Unfortunately, he can't even remember how he got home. 

Didn't Dave ask him to go to a bar? They did go and they drank a lot. Well Jack drank a lot, he doesn't know if Dave did but knowing Dave, he's probably worse off than him. Speaking of, where is Dave? Did he get home alright? Jack has half a mind to turn on the news to see if Dave got arrested for any drunken crimes committed. For some reason, he can't really recall much about Dave. Just blurry images of the guy smirking down at him in the bar. Which is weirdly composed for him if he were drunk. 

Stupid alarm music suddenly blasts through Jack's room and he shoots up before scrambling to shut it off. Just his luck to wake up right before his alarm.

But, right. Time for work. Jack turns to walk to the bathroom before keeling over as his hand shoots to his head. Right. His hangover.

Still, he manages to crawl his way to Freddy’s after sloppily putting on orange makeup. The first thing his boss says to him is that he looks like shit. Well, not really, it was more like, “You look under the weather, employee.” And since Scott is just so generous, he gives Jack a 3 minute break in the saferoom before he starts his shift. 

Unsurprisingly, he's greeted with the sight of Dave as he hobbles into the dingy room. Surprisingly, Dave almost jumps out of his skin when he sees him. 

“Old sport!” Dave's eyes dart around, looking anywhere except for Jack. “Didn't expect you to show up today. You were pretty uh, plastered last night.”

Jack blinks at him blearily. “Well, no rest for the wicked I suppose,” he says as he flops onto the ground against a wall. 

Dave doesn't respond which is slightly concerning but Jack chalks it up to him being more hungover than he lets on. But still, isn't Dave a little too comfortable? How much did the guy drink? Seriously, why can't Jack remember anything at all? It's like 90% of last night got wiped from his brain. He smacks his head slightly. 

Dave glances at him subtly. “What're ya so up in arms about, old sport?” 

Jack looks at him while narrowing his eyes. “Why're you fine?” 

Dave makes a weird noise with his throat. Like really weird. Which would be normal for him but this time the noise is really really weird. Jack didn't think his vocal cords could produce that noise and from the looks of it, Dave didn't either. 

“Uh, are you-”

“Oh would ya look at the time!” Dave looks at his empty wrist. “Gotta scram, old sport, see you around!” 

Dave shoots out of the room before Jack can even process what he said. 

Now, this is concerning. Dave not wanting to spend every second possible glued to Jack's side? Unheard of. 

So Jack stands up which he instantly regrets because he's still horrendously hungover. He flops back down, this time lying on his side, not caring about the disgusting floor. Might as well take a nap now. He knows Scott won't fire him for this, just bitch about it for five minutes maybe. 

Jack closes his eyes and drifts off to sleep.

And gets what feels like immediately kicked awake. 

Jack yelps as he barely processes a pair of legs in front of him. Jeans and stupid red and white shoes. Wait a minute. He jerks upwards into a kneeling position as he looks up at a familiar creepy smile.

“Matt? What the fuck are you doing in the saferoom? I've never seen you in here even once,” Jack blurts.

“Tell David to quit it.” Matt's smile seems colder than usual. His head obscures the dingy light bulb hanging from the ceiling, casting his face mostly in shadow. 

A voice in Jack's head tells him he really should not fuck around with Matt right now. He gulps, hoping it was subtle enough for Matt not to notice, and stands up fully. Being eye to eye with him eases Jack's nerves a little bit but now he has to figure out what the hell Matt means. 

“Quit what? What's he doing?” Jack asks.

Matt seems to lower his haunches slightly. “You don't know?”

“I was asleep, man. How would I know what he's up to? What time is it even?” 

“It's 3pm.” 

Jack's mouth falls open. “I've been asleep for three hours?” 

Matt looks at him disdainfully. It's strange how emotive he can be with his weird unwavering smile. Jack thinks the word entity would describe him better than human. 

Suddenly a memory from last night flashes through Jack's mind. He's on his bed with Dave standing beside it. He thinks he was talking about Matt. Jack brings a hand to his head as he winces. Huh. Weird. 

“Well even if you two aren't scheming something, tell him to quit it anyway. He'll probably listen to you, I don't know.” Matt snaps him out of his thoughts. 

“You still haven't told me what he's doing,” Jack says, “And why did you assume we were scheming together?”

Matt doesn't answer him. Instead, he swivels around and walks out of the saferoom. Jack stumbles after him. The nap helped his migraine but he's still a bit dizzy. 

After almost failing to keep up with Matt, Jack nearly walks into him when he stops abruptly. What the hell. They're at prize corner. Why isn't he taking his position behind the counter?

Jack peeks around him and immediately gets his question answered. Dave is posted up where Matt usually is. Matt bristles as he sees Dave and Jack can't help but feel like this is a stupid battle over territory like they're cats or something. But he has to admit it is jarring to see his purple coworker behind the counter instead of his creepy smiley one with virgin vibes so he steps out from behind Matt. 

“Dave, why are you-”

Dave shrieks when he sees him which causes Jack to jump back behind Matt in fear. 

“What the fuck,” Matt says.

“Oh-! Um, old sport!” Dave says way too loudly. “Didn't expect to see ya here!”

“I work here,” Jack responds. “And you do too.” 

“Wow, must've slipped my mind!” Dave looks around almost frantically.

“Dave, seriously, are you okay? You-” 

“Never been better, Sportsy! But I gotta go-”

“Go? Go where? Let me accompany you.” Jack isn't about to let him slip away again. Something must have happened last night for Dave to be this fidgety around him and he'll pry it out of him one way or another. 

“I-I meant the bathroom, I need to go piss! Or shit even.” 

“Great, I need to go too, let's go together.” 

Dave stammers out some more incoherent noises that do sound like words if Jack focuses hard enough but his patience is wearing thin. He won't give him time to shit out another excuse to run away.

“Dave, what happened last night?” Jack asks. 

Matt, who seemed fine with the fact that they were acting like he wasn't there, suddenly seems much more interested in the conversation. 

“Well, you see, old sport, we were drinkin’ and um, yeah. We drank.” Dave stares at Jack when he finishes talking and Jack stares back. 

“We drank, huh?” Jack says after 10 seconds of silence. 

“Shit, you knew I wasn't drinkin’ with you?” 

“No, but I do now,” Jack says as a grin appears on his face but he quickly drops it. “Now tell me-”

Dave jumps over the counter, which causes Jack and Matt to flinch away, and runs in a random direction.

“Dave!” Jack yells before running after him and leaving Matt behind. Not that it looks like he cares. 

Since it's during peak business hours, everyone in the building watches as Jack chases Dave across the dining hall. Can't really blame them, it's not every day they see a purple man get chased by an orange man. A few kids point at them and cackle. 

“Why are you chasin’ me?” Dave yells.

“Why are you running?” Jack yells back. 

They arrive in the long hallway beside the dining hall and Jack thinks Dave is gunning for the saferoom before he veers off to the right towards the bathroom.

Jack bursts in right after Dave does but both of them quickly freeze at the sight of Jimbo who's looking at them with the same type of confusion probably mirrored on their faces. Why is he here without being summoned? 

Jimbo quickly recovers and points his spray bottle at Dave. “Why have you come here again? And why did you bring your partner?” 

“He chased me here!” Dave retorts. 

“Did you summon Jimbo earlier?” Jack asks Dave. Jimbo abruptly aims the bottle towards Jack who puts his hands up. 

“Well I did but uh…”

“But what?” Jack spits, not taking his eyes away from the death ray aimed at his head. He does not want to be sprayed again. 

“He wanted to help,” Jimbo says, eyeing Dave suspiciously. Jack also glances at Dave, slightly alarmed. Help with what? Mopping the floors? Being productive and contributing positively to the company is more terrifying behaviour from Dave than killing kids. Was this why he was at prize corner earlier too? 

“Dave,” Jack says cautiously, “Why are you being,” he pauses, “Actually productive?”

“Well maybe I've had a change of heart!” Dave crosses his arms. “I wanted to assist him but he kicked me out.” 

“You sucked ass at it,” Jimbo says before Jack can comment on how much he thinks what Dave just said is bullshit. 

“Hey, that's not very nice, Jimbo,” Dave says in a tone that sounds like he doesn't give a single fuck. 

“Can I just please know why you're acting like this?” Jack asks Dave, slightly pleadingly. Not because he's upset but just because he's extremely curious at this point. 

“You actually aren't in on this?” Jimbo asks Jack incredulously as he slightly lowers his spray bottle. 

“Why do both you and Matt think every weird thing he does involves me someh-”

Jack doesn't manage to finish his sentence because Dave doesn't hesitate for a millisecond to take advantage of Jimbo letting his guard down by surging forward and snatching the bottle out of his hand. Dave darts out of the room at lightning speed, leaving Jack and Jimbo standing in shock. Jimbo recovers first and shoots after Dave which causes Jack to chase after them as well. 

It must be quite the sight to see for the customers witnessing Jack chase Dave across the dining hall and now back the other direction with the addition of Jimbo between them. 

Jack does find it oddly strange to see the janitor outside of the bathroom. Guess the spray bottle is just that important. 

Jack catches Matt watching them calmly out of the corner of his eye. He seems to be much more content now that he's back behind the counter. 

Then Dave heads for the kitchen. So the chef is involved too… Jack can't really stay too upset since this is actually really funny. Today has been more eventful than that time he and Jimbo had that… ‘scuffle’ in the washroom. 

The three of them pile into the kitchen which causes their chef Ronaldo to spin around to look at them. 

“No,” he says in fear as he sees Dave.”Not again! Not you too!” He points at Jack.

This is unsurprising at this point. 

“I don't need your help,” Ronaldo begs, “Leave me alone. I can't handle both of you.” 

Okay that's three of his coworkers immediately assuming he's associated with Dave's weird actions. Like c'mon Jimbo's right there, man. Who's trying to wrench his spray bottle out of Dave's hands. Which isn't working very much because Dave is freakishly tall and holding the bottle above his head so Jimbo can't reach it. 

“Hey, Ronny, I can help you clean this place up now,” Dave says cheerfully, like he isn't fighting off Jimbo at the moment. 

“No, don't spray that in here, plea-”

Dave sprays a bit of whatever concoction Jimbo brewed in the bottle on one of the cabinets that has some weirdly coloured substance growing on it. It melts together and then starts bubbling. Then sizzling. Then dissolving the surface it's on. Dave and Jimbo shrink away from it before fighting for the bottle again. 

At this point Jack is only watching out of entertainment. Until he catches Ronaldo eyeing him suspiciously. 

“Hey, can we make a pizza again?” Jack asks him. 

Ronaldo looks at him like he grew a second head. For some reason, this seems to be his last straw. 

“Get out of the kitchen!” he roars as he picks up a pot of boiling water from the stove. Did he prepare for this? “All three of you!” 

Dave and Jimbo freeze. Jack looks between them and Ronaldo. He wouldn't, right?

“You wouldn't, right?” Dave asks. 

Ronaldo takes one menacing step towards them and the three of them make a beeline for the kitchen's exit. Jack makes a split second decision to grab the lid of a trash can to which Ronaldo yells at him for but doesn't seem important enough to give chase. 

As they squeeze out the door, they all trip over each other in their haste. Dave tumbles a few times and hits his hand that's holding the bottle against a table. It goes flying out of his grip. Jimbo wastes no time scrambling to his feet and snatching the bottle up. He turns to Dave and aims the nozzle at him. 

“It is your time, purple one,” he says. 

Dave blinks at him. “Shit.”

Jack knew this would fucking happen. He dives in front of Dave and holds the lid up as a shield right before Jimbo pulls the trigger. Thankfully, it doesn't burn through like it did with the cabinet. That was probably a chemical reaction after being mixed with what was probably deadly mold. 

“You,” Jimbo says coldly as he looks at Jack. “You said you weren't involved.” 

“I wasn't!” Jack exclaims, “I just still need Dave to-”

“I don't care anymore.” Jimbo cocks the spray bottle like a gun. “I need you both to die.” 

“Um.” Jack stares at Jimbo for two seconds before throwing the lid at his face. It hits the target with a loud clang. Jimbo yells in pain as Jack yanks Dave to his feet and once again, runs with him across the building. 

Jack kind of wishes he was one of the kids witnessing this situation. What kind of scenario would he think they're in if he were a kid watching the same employees chase each other across their workplace three times but with chaser and chasee(s) being switched each time? He doesn't really have time to ponder this because it seems to be that their janitor recovered and has decided to hunt them down. 

“Shit! What do we do, Old Sport?” Dave asks urgently. 

“I don't know, go to the saferoom?” Jack suggests. 

“And corner ourselves?” 

Hindsight really is 20/20 isn't it? It's too late now because Dave said that literally as they reached the door. Jack yanks it open and he and Dave run inside. He slams the door shut and Dave puts a broom in front of it. 

“Is that going to work?” Jack asks uncertainly. 

“I fuckin’ hope so, old sport.”

It doesn't. It falls right over like it was never there as Jimbo opens the door. 

“Damn, it always works in movies,” Dave hisses.

“C'mon, Jimbo buddy,” Jack tries to start negotiating, “Can't you let it go just this once? I'll give you tokens.” 

“You took my bottle,” Jimbo says as he slowly steps closer. 

“Well, technically I didn't take your bottle but uh, I mean, is it really that important to you?” 

“Of course it is, I put my blood, sweat and tears into creating this. If someone tries to take it away, I'll take their life.”

Jack doesn't know if he meant that first part literally or figuratively but he doesn't ask. 

“Wow, that really means a lot to you huh? You know what? We'll apologize. I'll apologize even though I did nothing wrong. I'm sorry, see? Dave'll apologize too. C'mon Dave.” Jack elbows him gently. 

Dave stays silent. 

“Dave,” Jack elbows him a little harder. 

Dave crosses his arms. Stubborn purple idiot. 

“I've entertained you long enough,” Jimbo says, “Enough stalling.” 

Jack sighs as Jimbo raises the spray bottle towards them again. He survived an attack from it before but all it taught him was he'd rather get shot than get a faceful of whatever the hell is in the bottle. Seriously has no one found out what he concocts in there? 

“I'm sorry, old sport, this is all my fault,” Dave laments as he wraps his arms around Jack and squeezes him. 

“Dave, oh my god, you're making his job easier.” Jack tries to struggle out of his grip to no avail.

He goes limp as he finally gives up. At least this won't kill him.

Jimbo suddenly lets out a yelp as he straightens up and convulses violently. The sound of static and electricity fill the air for a few seconds before it stops. Jimbo falls to the ground, unconscious, to reveal Matt casually standing behind him with a taser in his hand. 

Jack and Dave gape at him. 

“I only did it because I've been wanting to tase this guy for like a month and this gave me a reason. You two still owe me though,” Matt says calmly. His smile seems sincere for once but not in a kind way and more in an enjoyment-of-hurting-the-janitor way. “Also you guys are dealing with the body.” 

Matt turns and leaves. 

Jack and Dave stare at the spot he was standing for what feels like a long time. 

Well. At least this got rid of his hangover. Somehow. 

Oh. Right. His hangover. 

“Dave.” Jack is the first to break the silence. “Stop fucking around. What happened last night?” 

Dave lets out a pitiful mixture of a sigh and whine. “Can't ya let it go just this once, Sportsy?” 

“Well no, not anymore, because you went ahead and did… all that.” Jack gestures vaguely with his hands. “I'm morbidly curious, what happened to have you behaving like this?”

Dave squirms a little and then looks away when Jack scrutinizes him. 

“Sportsy, I-”

“Spit it out, Dave.” 

“But it-it can't happen like this! Where's the buildup? The foreplay-”

“What the fuck are you saying to me.”

“You kissed me!” 

Jack freezes. Dave turns away dramatically and covers his face. 

He…kissed him? When? Where? Why? But more importantly, 

“That's it?” Jack asks incredulously. 

Dave looks back at him with a slightly offended expression. 

“Fuck you mean ‘that's it'?” 

Jack throws his hands up in exasperation. “I thought you did something embarrassing, not me. And did you really have to almost get us killed over it? Why didn't you just, I don't know, not show up to work today?”

“Well! I thought! You weren't gonna show up!” Dave retorts.

Jack almost bursts out laughing at how weirdly he's speaking. 

“Okay, okay,” he says, “Don't people kiss each other all the time when they're drunk? If you hated it so much, you could've just told me instead of uh, doing what you did earlier. It didn't mean anything anyway.”

To be completely honest, with how often Jack has been drunk in his life, he has never kissed a single person. Until now. But Dave doesn't need to know that. And Jack, of course, will never dive into what that means for him and his feelings for Dave. 

Dave however, seems to be fighting between feeling offended or hurt. 

“I didn't hate it,” he says. It almost sounds like a pout. “Why did you assume I hated it?” 

Uh oh. Jack can't tell if he's ready for the direction this conversation is heading. 

“Because you avoided me.” 

“I was embarrassed.” 

“Oh.” Jack looks away from him. Fucking hell, why does he feel so jittery? He glances at Dave just in time to see him narrow his eyes. He suddenly can't make eye contact. 

“Did it really mean nothin’, old sport?” 

Jack closes his eyes. He feels heat bleed into his cheeks and he brings his hands up to his face. “Yes.” 

“Really?” Dave steps closer to him which causes Jack to take a step back. 

“What are you doing?”

Dave keeps advancing until Jack's back hits the wall. Oh shit. 

“If it really means nothin’ then you wouldn't mind it happenin’ again, right?” 

“D-Dave.”

“Pick a number between one to ten,” Dave says as he towers over him. 

Unfortunately for Jack, Dave doesn't wait for a response. It didn't seem like he even wanted one, rather, he wanted to give Jack's memory a little prompting. 

And it works. The memories of last night come flooding back before all Jack can see is purple.

-

“Huh, now that I think about it, where's Phoney?” Dave asks. 

Jack doesn't respond. He feels light headed. He doesn't know how long he and Dave have been in the saferoom. It could've been five minutes or five hours. He wouldn't be able to know. All he knows is that he's still trying to catch his breath. He side eyes Dave a little disdainfully. Couldn't he have been a little gentler? For the third time, Jack wonders how Dave is completely fine. 

“Did you know that most tasers aren't designed to knock people out?” Dave chatters on. “Matt must've gotten a real strong one for himself. I don't think the ones he sells at prize corner can do that.” 

Jack's eyes drift to Jimbo who's still lying unconscious on the ground. Maybe they shouldn't be doing this when he could wake up at any moment. 

“Shouldn't we put Jimbo back in the washroom or something?” he asks. 

Dave grins at him. “Finally recovered?” 

“Dave-”

“Jimbo can wait. Don't try to talk me out of another round.”

“Dave, this isn't-we aren't-don't say it like that! We're only-” 

Dave pounces back on him which causes him to yelp. Maybe Jack should've seen this coming. Of course Dave would see through his bullshit, he's always observing Jack and learning his behaviours. Maybe a little too much. Now he's being punished for refusing to talk about his feelings. 

But maybe he's a little grateful Dave knows what he wants even when he lies about it. 

Whatever. Jack wraps his arms behind Dave's neck and pulls him in. 

They are so gonna spend all their company time in here now.