Clay didn't know how to respond; he didn't have any kind of made up version of Dave, did he? Dave was just... Dave.
'Are you suuure you don't like Techno? 'Cause everything you're saying he is makes him sound pretty compatible with you~.'
Clay let out a huff through his nose as his pulse elevated, the steady drum of his heart spiking ever so slightly.
"I'm asking you to be yourself and that's it. There's no glorified version of you I see, there's only what you'll let me see. So..."
Clay paused, looking down and taking a deep breath:
"So show me a you that's worth worshipping."
Dave looked genuinely surprised, his lips just barely parted and his eyebrows ever so slightly raised up.
"Please," Clay added meekly, "...I'd like to see it. I think a lot of people would."
The brute swallowed a lump in his throat and said nothing, lightly pushing Clay out of the way of the door as he looked at the blonde with guilty eyes. Clay wasn't exactly satisfied with that but thought it best not to push too hard for a direct verbal response from Dave; his silence was a step up from his usual cryptic, self-deprecating comments anyway. Clay could come back to his questions later.
"Are, uh... Tommy and Tubbo coming over again?" Clay asked, trying to steer the conversation away from the topic of Dave.
"Just Tommy today, Phil and Wilbur will be here too."
"Wilbur? He hasn't been over in a while," Clay questioned.
"Our, uh... It's difficult to get everybody together since our schedules and lives are so different."
"Oh, yeah—that makes sense..." Clay trailed off before starting again, "I'm—I'm sorry if I seem invasive with some of my questions... I'm used to people who are really open so this is a serious change from the norm. I just want to feel like I really know you and talk to you like... like Tommy or Wilbur do," he admitted, "I don't mean to put too much pressure on you, seriously."
"It's fine," Dave spoke quickly and softly, "I'll... try."
Clay's lips turned up into a tiny smile, "Trying is a good start..."
Clay bit his bottom lip and tugged Dave's head down by the front of his shirt, kissing his cheek, "Thank you."
~~~~
"So where's Dream gone?" Phil asked as he and Dave went outside, going to sit and wait for Tommy and Wilbur to arrive for the younger's training.
"It's a filmin' day."
"Ah... He's filming with George then?"
"...Yes," Dave said more coldly.
They sat down on some of the patio furniture outside, overseeing the giant, colorful garden that went on and on for ages.
Phil hummed, "I don't think he'd try anything, he'd have to be pretty stupid—plus, it'd be inappropriate to do considering that's, like, basically their work environment."
"Problem is that George is stupid," Dave uttered.
Phil laughed, "Didn't think you'd actually end up liking Dream."
"I don't like people, Phil-"
"You said the same thing about Tommy and now you treat him like a little brother. I know romance is a little different but it's not a far stretch, it's still getting attached to someone else. I know you want to be some emotionless rock, but that's not you. You spend virtually all your time with Dream now, you're bound to get attached at some point—especially having sex as much as you are."
Dave groaned, "Don't patronize me."
"I'm not patronizing you," Phil chuckled, "I'm only telling you what's going to end up happening."
"Are you sure you're emotionally ready for that though?" Phil asked more seriously.
"I don't need to be ready for something that won't happen," Dave replied flatly.
"Unusual for you to lie to me of all people," Phil grinned, "The way you're denying it makes it seem like you think you might already be invested in Dream more than you'd prefer."
"Do you and Clay both always have to overanalyze me constantly?" Dave complained.
Phil laughed, "Yeah, yeah—I'll leave you alone for now, Tommy and Wil are here," he gestured to the window where the two could be seen approaching the doors.
Tommy came out with a wide smile, followed by Wilbur.
"I'm ready for this one, Techno," Tommy said, wearing an expression of raw determination.
Wilbur laughed, "Techy, you have no idea how excited he's been for this."
"Hey, where's Dream?" Tommy asked.
"Filming," Phil quickly said, "You remember he's an actor, right?"
"Uh, well, yeah," Tommy turned a little pink in embarrassment, "I just forget about it sometimes since he's been in these events now that are normally just for duelists and people trained in the stuff."
"He's a stunt man, isn't he?" Wilbur asked, "I think that qualifies him. More than me, at least, I only get in by charisma."
"No more stupid Dream," Tommy said hurriedly, "I want my rematch!"
"Hope you're ready to have a rematch for this rematch then," Dave grinned as he stood up, his shadow overtaking Tommy.
"Bring it on, pig-man."
Dave had upgraded their training weapons from Rapiers to longswords, trusting Tommy enough now with weapons to give him something a little more dangerous. It was also somewhat harder to use due to the difference in weight and specifically weight distribution. Tommy seemed to catch on quickly though.
Their fight lasted far longer than either expected, the sun now setting as both of them still clashed their swords together, drenched in sweat and covered with small scratches. Neither of them were able to land what they set as a winning blow on the other, both Tommy and Dave on their highest defenses. After Tommy had managed to cut Dave's abdomen a while back he took the boy much more seriously. Tommy was relentless that day, refusing to concede yet unable to land a hit on Dave, but he still pushed himself harder and harder.
Wilbur called out words of encouragement to both of them, trying not to speak too much so they could keep their focus. While Wilbur cheered the two fighters on, Phil watched them with a careful eye. Dave and Tommy were both rather tired but still putting forth as much effort as they could.
Tommy grunted and growled with each strike, getting more and more frustrated by the minute. Every time Tommy thought he had Dave, the pig would always persevere—block, deflect, evade, counter, you name it, Dave did it.
"If you're gonna get pissed, then turn that anger into focus—you're gettin' loose and sloppy now," Dave barked as he blocked yet another one of Tommy's strikes.
Tommy grit his teeth, "Why aren't you angry? We've been doing this for hours, so why aren't you mad? You should be mad! Normally you would be! You're all alone, you're supposed to be bitter and angry all the time!"
Both Phil and Wilbur had their jaws drop to the ground, not expecting Tommy to ever say something like that, and to Dave, no less.
Dave remained calm and collected, keeping his composure while his body was pretty much on autopilot.
Tommy had finally had enough, putting as much force as he could into a downswing which locked their cross guards together. He flipped Dave's sword out of his hands in the same motion and stuck the point up to Dave's neck, panting hard. Dave froze, staring back into Tommy's blue eyes which were narrowed back at him.
"Enough with the humble lessons already," Tommy huffed, "All you need to win is to be strong."
~~~~
It was already nighttime when Clay got back, tired from filming. He immediately showered, not wanting Techno to smell George on him again. It wasn't really about not wanting a repeat of before, Clay would've loved it more than the first time, but it was more about respect. Dave obviously wasn't very fond of George—for good reason. There were plenty of other ways to piss Dave off anyway.
The clock on the nightstand quietly ticked away, its minute and hour hands slowly making their way towards the twelve at the top. Clay wondered what was taking Dave and Phil so long; he knew eavesdropping was wrong, but he was just too curious for his own good. Tommy and Wilbur had long since gone home and Phil stayed behind, needing to discuss several important things—at least, that's what Clay was told. He didn't want the very first night of sharing Dave's room to be ruined because Dave was stuck talking with Phil until one in the morning.
Clay pried himself out of the comfortable, silky sheets and silently trotted down the hall to Dave's office. He moved slowly as he approached the door, placing his ear against it as softly as he possibly could, trying not to move the door at all and make any kind of noise.
"-ommy's only gotten more aggressive while training with you—I specifically told you to be extra careful about this if you were really going to do it. How can you be so reckless?"
Phil didn't exactly sound angry, his tone was closer to frustrated and concerned. Dave's voice was still mostly monotone but seemed to shake just a tiny bit; it was barely noticeable but it was definitely there.
"He's not gettin' aggressive, Tommy's passionate about this, Phil. He knows he won't be able to do much harm to me so he can afford to put his all into his trainin'. He's okay. He just likes to fight, Phil—you can't just magically change that about 'im."
"Yeah, maybe I can't do anything with magic," Phil scoffed, "I know you see yourself in Tommy to some extent between the magic and the fighting and you care enough to shield him from a lot of what you've done but you're not holding yourself to your full side of our fucking deal."
"You said to be as careful as I could and to be mindful. I've done and I'm doin' my best to hold up to the standard you've set but Tommy isn't okay with only knowin' some things—he wants to know more."
"Then let him learn the rest from somebody else who actually knows what balance is."
Clay's jaw dropped at what Phil had just said; he never expected this kind of argument to unfold between them. From the outside, Phil seemed like the perfect father to all three of them: Dave, Wilbur, Tommy.
"E-Excuse me?"
"Tommy's not supposed to be learning violence, he's trying to learn combat. Your basic instincts are violence and it's been seeping out into your lessons with Tommy and it's starting to show a lot more now. He's acting a little bit more like you every day that passes and that's something you told me wouldn't happen."
I'm sorry that I'm not domesticated enough for you. You see me as just some wild fuckin' hog, right? Or am I a show pig in your eyes? Am I here to just entertain you with my struggles until I finally hurt somethin' you actually care about in a frenzy and then you'll put me down? Because I'm too dangerous? Why'd you bother even puttin' this little family together then? Why include me in this for this long just to rip it all the fuck away? You were wary from the beginnin', you should've just stayed the Hell away from me."
"Tommy wan-"
"You do everything for Tommy! Everything you do is just for him or Wilbur—if you love them so much more than me then just cut me out of the picture already and stop tauntin' me with the false hope that I could ever be worthy of bein' family to anybody!"
Dave's voice sounded more crackly and dry—as if he was on the verge of tears. Phil started to speak muchmore softly and Clay struggled to hear him, focusing as hard as he could on the man's voice to pick up on what he was saying.
"Dave..." his real name, "it isn't like that at all. I—you're the oldest and you've been out of my control and care your whole life so you just worry me sometimes. You're still my son, that won't change. I just never know what to expect from you and... we both know you're not in the best place mentally and I think neither of us want something like that for Tommy. You don't mean any harm but there's little things you can't help but say or do that Tommy picks up on and he slowly starts doing it too. What if Tommy really is like you? We need to be able to make sure he can keep everything under control and not run through it blind and angry."
"He wouldn't be runnin' through blind though," Dave croaked, clearly sniffling some, "I-I have first hand experience to guide him-"
"You've gotta guide yourself the rest of the way first. You can't help others when you need help yourself, Dave. That's just the truth."
"But I-"
Tommy loves you and he looks up to you but he doesn't understand... he doesn't fully understand exactly
what he's idolizing. I know you want the best for him and you want to be there for him and help Tommy with anything he asks about, but you just can't, Dave. You're not equipped to properly handle raising that boy."
Both men fell silent, some shuffling sounds coming from behind the door. Dave was clearly crying, albeit rather quietly. It was sad, full of sorrow and Dave was obviously trying to hold it back. It sounded like his hand was over his mouth as quiet sobs came out muffled and choked, being cut off halfway but still managing to force their way through Dave's best efforts eventually in long, dolorous whines.
After a few seconds, Clay could hear Phil softly shushing Dave, and mumbling some things too quietly for Clay to make out. He assumed it was words of comfort—Phil didn't seem like the type to keep putting someone down who was already to the point of tears, especially not someone he supposedly saw as a son. Still, it did surprise Clay that Phil seemed rather untrusting of Dave when it came to Tommy.
Clay wasn't really sure what to think; on one hand, he had first hand experience with Dave being a thirsty killer, but on the other hand, Clay knew there was much more to him than that, but he still had no idea what exactly that more even was. Phil had to know—but everybody interprets information differently.
Hearing more shuffling again, Clay thought they might be coming out soon and started to hurry back to Dave's—their bedroom, burying himself in the thick covers like nothing happened as he waited for Dave to return.
Finally, the bedroom door opened, Dave clearly entering the room just by the sound of his footsteps alone. They weren't exactly loud, but you could just feel the weight as you listened. Dave kicked off his boots, threw off his red cape and his waistcoat was next to go. He quickly unbuttoned his dress shirt and swapped his pants out for joggers, going shirtless. Clay timidly turned to face the pinkette as he got into bed, tucking himself beneath the covers beside the much smaller man.
"You look exhausted..." Clay murmured.
Dave flipped to his stomach, shoving his face into the plush pillows, groaning quietly, "I am."
It sounded like his voice was still a little dry from crying.
Clay folded both of his hands onto Dave's shoulder and tucked his head into Dave's neck, gently kissing his rosy, pale skin.
"That's alright. It's been a long day," Clay quietly assured, "I think you should sleep in tomorrow, it's really late and you're only just now getting in bed."
They both laid like that for a short while without saying anything else, Clay nearly falling asleep until he practically screamed at Dave's soft, almost inaudible request.
"Will you hold me, please?"
"...Yeah," Clay whispered back.
How could Clay ever convince himself to say no to that voice?
Dave turned only slightly, eyes not visible from his messy hair, quickly putting his arms around Clay's waist and curling his legs up to tangle them with the blonde's. He pushed himself in close to Clay's chest, with his head tucked underneath the other man's chin. The actions were so sudden but still gentle, and surprised Clay enough that he completely froze up for a second, finally cupping the back of Dave's head with his hand while the other arm went around Dave's upper back.
Despite his size, Dave managed to make himself rather small, curled up against Clay waiting for sleep to overcome him. Clay curled his fingers through Dave's disheveled, pink hair, caressing each strand and watching them fall back into place once he let go. His fingers brushed by Dave's fluffy ear, making it twitch in response.
"Ah—s-sorry..." Clay mumbled.
Dave only hummed tersely, not moving from his position at all.
Clay took in a deep breath through his nose, gently running his fingers along the soft, fluffy hair on Dave's floppy ears. The shade of pink on them was slightly lighter than his hair but still very much pink. They were like velvet between Clay's fingers, perfectly relaxed now and went wherever he moved them. He always thought they'd be soft but they were so much nicer to actually touch. There was a tiny little slit in Dave's left ear, some kind of old cut or tear that left a chunk missing. There were lots of things like that on Dave's body that Clay was certain the pig probably couldn't even remember them all—at the very least, there were some he probably didn't want to remember.
"...Thank you. I just..." Dave trailed off, yawning, "That conversation with Phil wasn't fun."
Dave's voice was meek, the quietest that Clay had ever heard it, "I just want to feel wanted."
"I want you," the response was instant, the words falling out of Clay's mouth before he even thought them.
"I know you do and I'm sorry for that."
"Why be sorry for it?" Clay whispered, looking down at the pink mess he held so closely.
"I'm really just not that great, darlin',"
"Great isn't what I want. I said I wanted you—whatever you might be."
Dave looked up at Clay, finally, his eyes shining with hope but overcast with doubt.
You're not gonna give up on this, are you?" Dave asked sadly.
Clay pushed Dave to his back, straddling his waist.
"Not until there's nothing left to work for. Until then," Clay paused and clamped his hands down on Dave's shoulders.
"I'll work myself to the fucking bone if that's what it takes to make myself all yours,"