Work Text:
Dave opens his eyes, rising in bed. The sun shines into his unprotected eyes, making him let out a repeated string of unprepared grunts. His pale red eyes strenuously darted to the nightstand, guiding his hand to grab his glasses off of it. His opposite hand moved over, patting the spot next to him. The emptiness of the presence makes his head snap to look down. No John?
Dave scrambles to get his phone from the nightstand too, opening it and texting the man meant to be in bed beside him.
“where’s my husband”
“i’m at work baby!”
“why do you hate me”
“i don’t hate you, i have work to do! we gotta keep dual income for emergencies. so i can be independent too!”
“thats mad gay”
“emergencies are important to account for. i don’t just wanna mooch off you. plus you’re a very expensive medical trip too, mr. liquid-bones.”
“i could just take care of you dickhead”
“you should go back to bed, darling.”
Dave sharply groans and lightly scowls to himself, carelessly dropping his phone on the floor. His lover could be really practical about the worst things (best, the albino is just playfully dramatic), and Dave couldn’t truly argue with practicality. Especially when he helped John become that way, if he doesn’t say so himself.
Dave steps out of the shared bed’s grasp, stretching his body upwards with a sharp pop. The pale man lets out an annoyed groan, putting a scarred hand over his back. He knew he’d pay for it later when a pain danced in the lower part of his spine. It mingled and migrated with his already existing back pain, some amazingly horrible swirl of back issues. He stepped over to the bathroom attached to the couple’s room, shivering as his heels molded against the cold tile.
Looking over in the mirror, Dave admired and nitpicked his body. He had come far from being his insecure thirteen-year-old self, but he couldn’t help but stay nervously vain. He had a good face, slim jaw, and strong arms, but he could always improve on his legs. He was too pale for his liking, and he hated the miscellaneous scarring over his body too. Too much like Dirk in a lot of ways, but there was nothing he could do about that.
Dave sighs with finality, starting his morning routine rather than dwelling on his body. He brushes his teeth, combs his hair, eats some toast, takes his indomethacin, and all before settling into his desk. It’s a struggle every day, almost as if monotony itself took a paintbrush to blend most of the morning. The usual morning lacked his best friend, and it sucked. The work week could get lonely when you don’t see anyone for the better part of a week. At least he only had to do this for a few hours, since his company mainly worked just fine without him. It felt like an adult version of the busywork you get at the end of the school year. Just a few meetings, some emails and virtual papers, and he’d be free to his hobbies. Maybe some music, maybe some video games, whichever the dull day led him to. He didn’t even bother getting dressed for the day, taking all his meetings in a black wife beater.
After he finished a jejune document for a client, he shut down his computer. His pointer finger itches at his thumb, picking off skin. Lazily, he peels himself from the desk chair, standing and walking out of his study. He moved leisurely, even though his medicine had kicked in for his back pain, it made him dizzy and crampy.
The albino made sure to put on a pair of slippers before touching the kitchen tile, not ready for another assault of cold on him. He scoured the stainless steel fridge, finding some kolaches John had made the other day. He leaned against the counter and ate them out of the ziplock bag they were in. He eats the pastry cold, staring blankly at the ground. Whenever John wasn’t around, it was easy for Dave to start spiraling. He needed to get out of the house way more, but Dave wasn’t a great initiator.
Limply and almost melancholic, he ambled his way to the couch. Pain clouded his stomach, and his mind followed since it was trapped in his skull like it had been his whole life. His muscles went slack, but not because he was relaxed. He felt uselessly uninterested, letting everything numb over like healing scabs. He sank into the fabric, his plastic bag of kolaches parting with his hand. Putting in the minimal amount of effort he could manage to reach for the remote, he turned on some trashy TV. It shows in his pale red eyes as he zones out, his mind hazy with apathy towards whatever went on around him. He felt so tired, so numb…
The surprise sound of the front door opening makes Dave jump from his spot. He peers through his glasses, scanning the front door anxiously. The albino’s eyes gain a glimmer of hope though, as John walks through the open door. John looked pretty worn down too, more physically than mentally though.
“Honey, I’m home!”
John’s eyes snipe down Dave’s almost immediately, smiling at the glasses peeking over the couch. His voice trails from yelling to soft speech, seeing the other wasn’t far enough to yell. Their eyes interlock, greeting each other so their mouths don't have to. The opia derived from their eye contact always pleased Dave, even if John didn’t regularly see his eyes. John closed and locked the front door without looking back, keeping his eyes on his lover.
“You doing okay?”
John gently starts, coming to lean over the back of the couch. Dave traces his eyes around John, slowly shaking his head. John’s sleeves are buttoned up and pushed past his elbows, wrinkled and dirty. His collar is half popped up, his hair all sorts of crazed sweaty spikes.
“You?”
“…How about we take a day off? Relax, go see Rose or Jade? Some spring cleaning?”
“…God, please.”
John walked around the couch to lie with Dave, using his weight to put a relieving pressure on the skinnier male. He straddled his husband’s lap, sinking against the other, tense with stress. Despite the deterioration of John’s physical appearance, he’s his usual eudaimonic self. He beamed down at the albino’s apathy, pushing it away to make room for himself. He settled like a sun clearing away shade, like flowers reblooming in May. They sit there in silence, wordlessly comforting each other about their rough days. John feels Dave’s hands rub his sides, the two trying to ground themselves in reality.
“You stink.” Dave chides lovingly, looking up at the other man with a small smile on his face. “How was your day today?”
“Nothing I can’t handle. People can get way more angry at pottery than you think.”
The pair snicker at John’s statement, before Dave plants a kiss against John’s lips. Mouths and their soft embraces hold for a few moments, the two greeting each other silently once more. Dave rubs a hand over the tan male’s hip, kneading the soft skin stuck to the wider man’s side.
“My day was boring. Everything is just so…” The albino scoffs at himself, without a better word to describe the matter.
“Have you written anything recently? It always makes you feel better.”
Dave purses his lips, begrudgingly shaking his head.
“Why do you have to be right all the time? I’ll… start again tomorrow.”
John perkily congratulates Dave with a kiss to the forehead, moving to squeeze the albino’s shoulders. His kiss turns into multiple, trailing them into Dave’s melanin-deprived hair. His hands cup around Dave’s ears, keeping the skinny male’s head in his hold. Dave purrs happily, running his fingers against the soft overlapping layers of flesh on his sides.
“I feel gross,” John mutters, pulling himself out of the familiar hold, “I’m gonna go get washed.”
“…Can I come?”
The tan male rolls his eyes at the question. John’s hands reach out to smooth over Dave’s hair, before starting to walk off.
“Always!”
Dave stares as the other moves, celebrating in his mind. As he does, he lets the other slip into the bathroom in their shared room before standing up. Dave slides over to their bedroom, gathering clothes and towels. He grabs soft pajamas out of John’s drawer for both of them, knowing his husband would get a kick out of him in oversized clothing. All Dave wanted to do currently was focus on John. Whenever he got in a stoop like this, he would focus on taking care of his lover. Putting himself aside made him feel purposeful in such prosaic and repetitive times.
He saunters up to the bathroom, making sure to knock before interrupting the barely audible stir of John behind the door.
John quickly calls for Dave, “Come in! I’m already in the shower!”
Dave takes his time in skill, setting down the items he gathered on the cream-colored toilet seat cover. John’s cellphone is sitting on the edge of the sink, collecting a few drops of water on it. Next to it sat the wider male’s untinted glasses, the albino setting them down next to it. Dave smoothly grasped the phone and turned on a set of light angelic jazz, trying to start a calming mood. Dave tugged off his old tank top and rolled off his shorts and boxers. He climbed into the shower, looking over the tan man.
A nice, dark, caramel color was the star-striking skin tone set for John. He had soft little nodes of moles, skin tags, and scars, implanted on his skin like ubiquitous dark-chocolate chips. A layer of hair sat over it all, adding to the softness of his skin. Soft dark imprints dug into John’s skin where his binder squeezed his chest.
Dave moved up in the shower and rubbed a protective hand over one of the imprints under John’s breasts. He almost frowned as he felt the abused skin.
“You gotta take a break with that shit. You’re gonna snap your damn rib cage in half.”
John only looked up at Dave and nodded in response. His arms sweep forward, his fingers curling around Dave’s sides to heave the albino closer. His body rings with soreness, his furry arms pulling his chest flush against Dave’s.
“I missed you. Today was rough.”
Dave nods, the shower head’s rain finally starting to dampen his skin. They stood under the water spout, letting the water defrost the firm strain collected in their bodies.
“Your tit-hairs are itching me,” Dave speaks with a grin in his tone, a precursor to the physical one that spreads over his lips. “Watch your eyes.”
He lifts an arm from John, grabbing a bottle of shampoo. He uses his other hand to squirt some of it into his palm, before dropping it on John’s head. He plops the bottle back into its spot, turning his attention to rub the liquid into John’s hair. His pale fingers follow the curvature of John’s skull, starting to wash his husband’s hair. His digits delicately run, rub, and tug at and through every piece of hair.
John closed his eyes tight as he felt the cold gel against his scalp, letting out a pleased hum. His arms travel to wrap around Dave’s neck, braiding his fingers together behind the albino’s hair. He places soft pecks on Dave’s lips, tilting his head back lightly.
“Did you wash your hair yesterday or is today your wash day?” John asks caringly, before sighing at the touch of his raven strands.
“Don’t worry about me, I got it figured out. Let’s focus on you.”
John almost groans at Dave’s concise response, a little annoyed at the dismissal. It made him feel almost relieved at the same time though, since he was getting one of his light pampering sessions. He put a lot of time into the stacks of responsibilities he had, and it always felt good that he could lean back on Dave and get some time spent on him.
Dave softly maneuvers John’s head under the water, covering his blue eyes and washing the shampoo back off John’s hair. His hand works out all the suds, slowly massaging his husband’s scalp.
“Thank you… You’re amazing, y’know? No matter what shitty day I have, I can just come back to you. Laugh about it, and move on.”
Dave puts his hands down and leans in to press an appreciative kiss to John’s lips. On his tippy toes, John unbuckled his hands from each other, pushing them into Dave’s hair to keep him close.
They stood there, enveloped in each other. Just as soap would wash down their backs, so would everything that went sour that day. It made John think about it as the kiss was resolved. Dave ran his hands over John, starting to precisely clean every nook and cranny of the bigger male, and taking his time. They pulled the best out of one another, a beautiful and romantic symbiosis. They haven’t always been romantically involved, almost the majority of their relationship was platonic. Knowing each other since they were 12, they spent 9 years as just friends, only spending the last 6 in combined devotion. Not including the two years of marriage. But despite not having these intentions towards each other for long, they had always had the same mutualistic relationship. Dave became kinder and more confident, and John grew to be true to himself, while learning to comfort others.
John softly stepped back to give Dave some room as he felt thin hands travel away from his body. Dave quickly washed down his own figure, just trying to hurry up on himself. John moved to let the water carry away the soap on him, giving an admiring look over Dave’s body.
Dave was lean and wide-shouldered, and very soft-skinned. You could see the veins in places like his wrists and eyelids like little blue highways in his flesh. A lot of Texans John had met were darker than Dave, and it almost concerned John the first time they met in person. He always imagined the other to be tan, especially with being in such an oven-baked state. That was before learning about his husband’s albinism and such though.
John remembers the first time they saw each other face to face. They had ranted to each other about appearances, and how different the boys were from expectations. John had only just started transitioning socially online, so it was a little bit of whiplash to Dave when the tan male came in a skirt. He never judged the other male about it, but it did catch Dave off-guard because he hadn’t interacted with many queer people. Hell, he hadn’t known that John was originally “Jane” until that day. As they talked about it in Dave’s room, it solidified their relationship. Dave opened up about his body image issues, and John spoke about being born a girl.
Despite having a little dysphoria, John wasn’t a very insecure person. A lot of people expected him to be, since he had a noticeable chest, and a curvy feminine body. Instead of following expectations, John just accepted himself and worked around it. When he talked to Dave about it, it gave them both more confidence. Dave saw a new perspective of life, and John felt affirmed.
John thought about this to himself as he sat on Dave’s lap on the bathroom floor. They were sitting on top of a towel, and Dave was drying his hair.
“…You’ve been quiet, chatterbox. What’s on your mind?” Dave remarked, wiping out the crevice behind John’s ears. He always made sure to get that part of John as soon as he could, since the moisture annoyed the shorter male where his glasses sat.
“I just love you. That’s all.”
“Gross.”
John snorts, and Dave starts to polish down the rest of him with the towel.