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theywhowriteandknowthings · 4 months

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Moving On - Dave York x F!Reader Chapter 8 of The Princess and The Duke.

This blog is a 18+ space, Minors, do not engage. If you are under the age of 18 you are not welcome here. Your reading and consumption of my work is your responsibility but I will endeavour to mitigate any discomfort for you, the reader, as possible. Once again, this is a 18+ space and minors should not interact.

Specific Warnings: Mentions of dick, mentions of sex toys, so much yearning, angst, step-cest, Mentions of poor parent-child relationship, parents touching sex toys without consent, mentions of childhood trauma(forgotten birthdays), food mention.

Big shout out to Hemmy (@angelofsmalldeath-codeine for writing this with me!)

Follow @vi-notifs for updates!

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[Read on AO3]

Wordcount: 7.2k

It’s been less than twenty-four hours since you returned home from the disaster of a dinner with your mother. You’re still not fully over the semi-public dredging of the traumatic childhood that you’d endured. You’re reclined on Ash’s sofa; you caress her head in your lap as you watch reruns of Buffy when a text notification comes through. Your stomach flutters with excitement when you see who it’s from.

Duke🎷: Hey, Nancy will be out for a few hours tomorrow afternoon. She should be gone long enough for you to get all your things.

“Hey, Ash?” You ask as you look up from your phone to see Sarah Michelle Gellar stake someone.

“Hmm? What’s up?”

“Are you free tomorrow afternoon to move some stuff out from my room at Dave’s?”

“I can free up my calendar, no problem. Nancy going to be there?” Ash asks as she tilts her head back to look up at you.

“Nah, Dave’s said she’s out for a few hours.”

“Shame. Would have liked to give the bitch a piece of my mind,” Ash grins at you and you stick your tongue out at her.

“Very funny,” you playfully scold her, “Alright I’ll confirm it with Dave.”

You pull your phone back up.

Princess🌙: Sure, you going to be there?

Dave types for a while before the message comes through.

Duke🎷: Only if you want me to be.

Princess🌙: We could use the extra pair of hands. How early can we get there?

You want to tell him that you do want him there, that you want to see him. But you refrain, knowing better than to say something so bold. It doesn’t stop you from thinking it.

Duke🎷: 1pm if that’s ok with you? I’ll be there.

Princess🌙 : Perfect, see you then.

Your gaze lingers, hoping – maybe foolishly – that he’s going to send another message, keep the conversation going. You’re about to lock your phone and turn your attention back to the TV when you see the little grey dots shuddering to indicate Dave typing. You bite your lip in anticipation, and you don’t miss the way Ash rolls her eyes at you before grinning.

Duke🎷: You got everything you need for the new place?

Princess🌙: Sort of? I’m taking the bed from my room at yours, if that’s ok. Otherwise, it’s pretty sparse, I’ll have to make a trip to that big furniture mall up near Tech Ridge.Duke🎷: Of course, it’s yours. If you need anything else, just let me know.

Princess🌙: Sure, thanks, Dave. See you tomorrow!

Duke 🎷: Anytime, see you then.

“Jesus! You’re like a fucking teenager,” Ash scolds you playfully as she nudges your knee with her fist.

“Fuck you,” you grumble as you ruffle her hair, heat creeping up your neck as you know you can’t deny it.

You set your phone down with a smile, feeling the anticipation bubble up in your chest as you try to focus on the TV. But it’s no use, you can’t stop thinking about Dave, you haven’t been able to since the diner last night.

~*~

Monday

Dave smirks to himself as he watches Nancy on the right screen of his work computer. She’s leafing through the photos Resnik had dropped off an hour ago. Dave has a set of copies up on the left computer screen as he sips his morning coffee.

He hates seeing photos of himself, especially when he looks so flustered. He needs to work on his cardio. Most of his recent hits have been more complex cloak and dagger affairs. Smaller margins for error. Cardio has been the last thing on his mind, and the only working out he’s been doing has been for his mental health. Weight training is a far more satisfying outlet than jogging around the block aimlessly.

His discomfort is quickly dispelled as he watches Nancy swipe the photos off the kitchen counter. The sound is muted but it’s clear she’s screaming bloody murder into the empty home. There’s a poisoning thread of guilt surrounding the scene, he never wanted to see Nancy in pain. But the memory of the dinner party burns any pity away as she tirades around the space where she had humiliated you only days before.

Dave picks up his phone and texts Resnik to commend him on a job well done when he sees a text from you. He opens it immediately, turning off the remote feed of your mother wallowing in her self-pity.

Princess🌙: Hey, you still ok for today?

Duke🎷: Of course, all good on your end?

Princess🌙: Yeah, just checking in, thank you again for this.

Duke🎷: Again, you don’t need to thank me, it’s the least I can do.

Princess🌙: Ok, well, see you at 1.

Duke🎷: See you then.

Dave watches as you start typing again, stopping for a few moments before starting up. It makes his stomach twist, like he’s waiting for something to happen. But you stop typing for good this time and he lets out a heavy breath he hadn’t known he was holding.

He loves that you’re talking again, even if it’s just about the logistics of moving your things out. It makes him check his phone at lightning speed at every news alert or email. Every time hoping it’s you, he doesn’t even know what you’d be texting about, other than the move. He knows that he’s kidding himself, you’ll soon be out of his life for good. Starting out on your own, finding someone more suitable, with less baggage.

But he lets himself live in the fantasy of it all for now. he takes peace in knowing you’re safe and that you’ll soon be free of your mother and her bullshit.

~*~

You’re restless as you pull up to Dave’s house. You’ve caught Ash stealing glances at you the whole drive, but she hasn’t said anything. You’re nervous, something about returning to the house has you on edge. But there’s excitement there too, you’re going to see Dave.

Ever since you reconnected in the diner on Saturday, you’ve been consumed with thoughts of him. When he held you, it was like being home. He makes you feel safe and peaceful.

“We’re here,” Ash says as you shake yourself from your thoughts, “Did you order that truck?”

“What truck?” You look up and your mouth falls slack as you see the white box truck with two men in blue overalls hauling the king-sized mattress into the back of the truck. The logo of a local removal company visible on the side of the vehicle.

“Not me, Dave must’ve called them,” you say as you get out of the car. You look up at the house to see Dave waiting on the porch for you. He’s leaning against the railing, his hand raised in a casual greeting as he nods to you.

“He’s down so bad for you,” Ash teases as she rounds the car, a shit-eating grin plastered on her face as she waves enthusiastically at Dave.

“Shut up,” you grumble as you nudge her side.

“Hey, Dave,” Ash shouts as she picks up the pace, practically jogging past you.

“Ashleigh,” he nods as he holds out a hand to shake, but Ash bats it away with her hand before throwing her arms around him.

Dave catches her with ease, despite her practically jumping at him. He steadies her before putting distance between them, holding her at arm’s length. You can’t help but smile at the sight as he shoots you a questioning look. You simply shrug, you have no clue what has gotten into her.

“You’re making your way into the good books, York,” Ash says as she squeezes his forearms. You watch as she says something under her breath to him before letting him go and barging into the house.

“What was that all about?” You ask as you reach the top step, trying not to show how nervous you are as you resist every urge to throw your arms around him like Ash just did. But you know that there’s no way you can risk such a PDA with the threat of the PI looming over you.

“She was grilling me about the truck,” Dave says as he looks you over, “How’re you doing?”

“I really appreciate you doing that,” you nod absently, “Things have been better,” you admit with a noncommittal grunt, “It’s good to see you though.”

The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them. Your eyes go wide as you try and think of a way to walk them back. But Dave beats you to it.

“It’s good to see you too,” his voice is low as he gives you a smile that doesn’t quite meet his eyes, “And I figured you’d struggle getting a whole king-size bed into that tiny thing.”

Dave gestures over your shoulder at the car and you wince at your lack of foresight. You turn back to see that the warmth has returned to his smile as he teases you gently. An echo of a time where things were simpler, easier.

“We should probably head in,” you say as you look over your shoulder again, paranoia prickles under your skin. It’s become something of a habit since you found out about the Private Investigator. Even in the safety of Ash’s place, you feel like you’re being watched.

“Good idea,” Dave gestures for you to go in with one hand as he waves in the removal guys with the other, “I got them to pack up the bed and desk, as well as your PC and some other bulkier pieces of furniture,” he explains as he follows you into the house.

“That’s good of you, thank you so much,” you say over your shoulder as you ascend the stairs.

“I put your prop box under a throw in the living room, I’ll get it for you before you leave,” he says, his voice barely more than a whisper, “Didn’t want the movers nosing around in there.”

Your chest constricts with affection at his thoughtfulness, and you nod in affirmation.

“Thank you,” you repeat and the soft huff of amusement from Dave makes your skin tingle.

“You don’t have to keep saying that.”

“I know, but you’re doing all this for me,” you say with a shrug as you hear Ash bustling around your old bedroom, “I just really appreciate it.”

“Hey,” Dave says as he hesitates at the bedroom door.

“What?”

“So, Ash,” he gestures to the door, “How much does she know?”

“Everything,” you say as you cringe back, expecting anger or aggression. But Dave simply nods, as if confirming his own suspicions.

“Ok, good to know,” he says as he places his palm flat on the door, “Shall we?”

You nod and he pushes the door fully open for you. You smile as Ash finishes assembling a cardboard box with a frustrated grunt. There’s a stack of flat-pack ones to her side. She exhales aggressively, blowing stray blonde hairs from her face as she looks at you both.

“About time, these things are a nightmare to put up.”

An hour goes by as the three of you pack up the rest of your belongings, all the while you and Dave share glances and smiles. With the last few boxes being packed up Ash picks up the first of them to take downstairs. You look around to see the surprising number of boxes piled up around you. You’re even more grateful for the box truck now you can see the sheer size of the move.

“Right, I’m going to start piling these downstairs for the movers to load up,” Ash says with a dramatic clap of her hands, “Besides, you two clearly need a moment alone.”

She gives you a knowing look as you see Dave shift uncomfortably as he seals up a box labelled “pillows”. You flip her the bird as she leaves, grinning at you over her shoulder as she kicks the door closed. The sound of Dave putting down the tape dispenser is loud in your ears before the room falls silent.

“She’s subtle,” Dave says as he turns to look at you, flopping down on the floor next to the box, “I like her.”

“That’s Ash for you,” you shrug as you mirror him, settling down on the floor as you realize standing around and packing up your whole life is quite strenuous. The room feels too big and far too small all at once. The echo of your voices is eerie as the air is so suddenly thick with tension.

“How do I have so many pillows it requires a whole box?” You ask rhetorically as you try and fill the silence. You look anywhere but Dave’s face as you feel the desire to touch him build. You just want to bury yourself in his arms and never leave. You’re closer to him than you realized, only a few feet away. It feels like too far and not far enough all at once.

“You’d be surprised,” Dave says softly, ��I think I filled three boxes with just records when I moved out of Carol’s place.”

“Records are cool, Dave,” you roll your eyes as you meet his gaze, but the moment you do you feel like you can’t breathe. Whatever you were going to say falls dead on your lips as you see the way he’s looking at you.

His eyes are glassy, his brow furrowed, and his jaw clenched, almost as if he’s in pain. But you know that look, it’s the look he gave you when you fell apart in his arms. It’s the look of restraint, holding himself back from crossing a line. Your fingers twitch as you start to reach for his hand, the temptation too heavy to resist. Just one touch, that’s all you need. Dave leans forward, his hand reaching for yours when the bedroom door swings open. You snatch your hand back and scramble to your feet.

“Alright,” Ash’s voice cuts through the silence like a blade, “They’ve got almost everything else packed up, let’s get this room-,”

She freezes as she looks between Dave and you, clearly unprepared for the intensity of the moment she interrupted.

“Do you two need a minute? Because I can go back out there and-,”

“No,” Dave says abruptly as he gathers himself up off the floor, “I’m going to check that the movers have everything ready to go, I’ll see you both down there.”

Dave grabs the box he was packing before he exits swiftly. He doesn’t look back as he shuts the door behind him. You let out a shaky exhale as tears spring to your eyes. You wipe them away before Ash reaches you, but she holds you just the same. Her arms wrap around you, firm and strong as you let her hold you.

“I expected to walk in on the two of you dry humping on the floor,” she chuckles low in your ear, “Not caught in whatever that was.”

You shake your head and bury yourself in her shoulder.

“I love him, Ash,” you mutter as you cling to her.

“Poor bastard,” she jokes, and you can’t help but laugh, “But seriously, he’s nothing like anyone that came before, I like him for you.”

“Yeah?” You pull back as you sniffle, wiping the back of your sleeve over your lip, “Why’s that?”

Ash raises an eyebrow at you incredulously, as if you had to ask.

“He’s clearly into you for more than just sex, or a kink, or some twisted stepdad thing,” Ash says as if she’s telling you the sky is blue, “We do need to talk about how he knew where you were on your birthday, maybe not now, cus that was weird and a bit stalker-y.”

“Not today,” you groan, and Ash puts her hands up defensively.

“I know, but that aside, he’s been looking out for you from the moment you landed back in Texas. The night with that douchebag Tristan, your birthday, Saturday night with your mom. No offense babe, but no pussy is worth all that effort. Especially when you’ve not fucked for what? Weeks? Months?”

“Too long,” you say as you can’t help but smile at Ash’s crass humour.

“Exactly,” Ash says with a triumphant smile, “I like him for you, he’d be good for you.”

“Y’know, that unfortunate stepdad thing aside,” you retort, and Ash shakes her head as she smiles at you.

“We could just kill her you know?”

“Ashleigh Mae!” You say with a dramatic gasp as you smirk at her.

“Just saying,” She holds her hands up in mock surrender, “I know a guy.”

“Whatever,” you say as you turn to the last few boxes needing to be filled, “Let’s get the rest of this shit packed up.”

“Yes, boss,” Ash gives you a mock salute before grabbing another box. You shake your head and gather the last few belongings into a final moving box labelled “Misc.”.

There’s a distinct lack of emotion as you head down to the kitchen, you thought moving out would have made you feel something. You set the box down and head into the living room where Dave is staring out of the window.

“Hey,” you say softly, not wanting to startle him.

“Oh, hey, you all ready to go?” He turns to you with a distant look on his face.

“Yeah, just getting that last box,” you say, gesturing to the grey fleece throw covering the box on the sofa. You recognize it as the one from Dave’s sofa downstairs.

“Of course,” he nods and folds his arms over his chest, his eyes dropping to his feet, “There’s something else I want to run by you.”

“Oh?” You look up from the covered box of props to meet his gaze.

“I’ve got a storage unit full of stuff Nancy wouldn’t let me have in the house,” he brings a hand up to rub his jaw, a nervous habit of his, “I was thinking seeing as you said you didn’t have much to furnish the new place, you could take a look and pick some stuff out? Consider it a late birthday gift.”

“Dave, you’ve already done so much for me, I don’t know if I could accept that,” you say as your heart aches at how much he’s willing to do for you.

“It’s all just sat there gathering dust, it’s a shame for it to go to waste when it could get some use.”

You mull it over for a moment, worst case scenario it’s a bunch of junk that you might get nothing from. Best case, you might not need to traipse up to the Furniture Mall on the weekend.

“Alright, I’ll take a look,” you smile as you pick up the box of props, “I’m keeping the throw, if that wasn’t clear.”

“Of course, wouldn’t have it any other way. I’ll give the movers the details for the storage unit. I will text you the codes to enter/let me write down the codes” Dave nods as his smile reaches his eyes. You’re about to head out to the car when you remember one last thing you meant to ask.

“I know you’ve already done so much for me-,”

“I was thinking-,” Dave speaks at the same time as you and you both stop talking the moment you realise you’re cutting the other off. You can’t help but laugh as you wait for the other to start talking again.

“You go,” you say, eager to hear what Dave has to say.

“I hope this isn’t overstepping,” he starts again as he props his hands on his waist, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth, “But I wanted you to know that, should you want it, I have someone I trust to install security measures on your new place. Would you be interested in something like that? I’ve just noticed how on edge you are, and with a PI sniffing around it seems like a good idea to deter any unwanted visitors.”

You feel your cheeks ache from how hard you’re smiling as Dave beat you to your own point.

“So, I was about to ask you for advice on who to call about that,” you admit, and you watch as relief washes over Dave’s face, “Because yeah, between the PI, and the prospect of living alone in a big city like Austin, I could use the extra peace of mind.”

“I’ll give him your number to get in touch and I’ll let him know to put it on my card.”

“Dave, you don’t have to-,”

“I couldn’t keep you safe in my own home, please, consider it me making it up to you.”

You consider it for a moment, a small voice in the back of your mind warns you about all the spending. But none of this is frivolous, it’s practical and a means to keep you safe. Most importantly, none of it feels transactional, he’s not doing this to buy you back. He’s protecting you.

“Ok,” you nod, convincing yourself as much as Dave, “Give him my number so we can set up the installation.”

“Excellent,” Dave says, and you stand there for a moment before realizing that this is it, there’s nothing left to say. You’ve got nothing more to stall with, you have to leave.

“Well, I guess this is it then,” you shuffle your feet nervously, “Can you get the truck to follow us to the storage place?”

“I’ll call them as soon as you leave.”

“Sure,” you say as you drum your fingers on the side of the box before you make yourself move, heading towards the door with regret and longing weighing down your movements. You get to the front door and put the box down, you can see Ash on the phone as she waves at you, “Hey, Dave?”

You step back from the door and turn to look at Dave again. His brow is raised in a silent question and your body moves before you can stop yourself. You take two long strides back into the house and wrap your arms around him. You bury your face in his t-shirt, hand fisting into the material covering his back as you breathe him in.

“Thank you.”

You breathe into his chest as you feel his broad arms wrap around you. He holds you tightly against him as he places a barely-there kiss to the top of your head. Another stolen moment, a risk you shouldn’t be taking.

“It’s ok, I got you.”

Dave whispers before giving you one last squeeze. His hold loosens and you don’t linger in his embrace, you know you’ve already pushed the limits. You step back with bleary eyes as you smile up at him before wiping away the tears.

“I’ll see you around,” you choke out before scooping up the box on the floor and practically jogging down the porch steps. You load up the box into the trunk of Ash’s car without a word before giving the movers the address to your new place.

“We’ll meet you at the storage place,” The driver says with a nod before getting into the cab.

“Ready to go?” You turn to Ash as she leans on the roof of her car, giving you an imperceptible look.

“Yeah,” she says with a nod before ducking into the car. She’s holding something back, but you can’t quite figure out what.

“You ok?” You ask as you secure your seatbelt, “You seem off.”

“I’m fine,” Ash says as she pulls out into the street, “I’m just sad for you, for the both of you.”

You don’t know what to say to that, opting instead to set route to the storage unit on Ash’s phone before placing it back on the hands-free cradle. You don’t speak for the short drive. You’re too lost in your own thoughts to fill the silence. The moving truck follows you the whole way and once you’re booked it at the front desk you make your way to Dave’s storage unit.

Row after row of red roller shutters greet you, thousands of moments of people’s lives in stasis.

“These places always give me the creeps,” Ash says with a shudder as you get to the row where Dave’s unit is. You stroll down the numbered units, checking for 461 as you go.

“Yeah, it’s like a graveyard, rows and rows of dormant spaces.”

“Jesus,” Ash scoffs as she nudges you with her shoulder, “I was thinking more along the lines of where people hide their dirty secrets, or their drug money like in Breaking Bad.”

“I mean, those options aren’t exactly much better.”

“I’d much rather walk into this unit to find stacks of cash or his secret balloon fetish than dead bodies,” Ash says as you stop in front of the unit.

“Here’s to finding something less terrifying than a dead body,” you joke as you use the code lock to open it up.

The roller shutter opens with a rattle and a crash as the mechanism locks open. You fumble for the pull cord for the light. The bright fluorescent tube lighting blinds you for a moment before your eyes adjust.

There are metal racks lining the walls, with boxes of photo albums, books, and all manner of very personal items stacked up to the ceiling. In the middle of the room are larger items covered in sheets, the furniture Dave mentioned, you guess. There’s a whole rack devoted to records, and you watch Ash’s eyes light up as she sees them. She hurries over to the shelving unit and immediately pulls out a box labelled “The Stones”.

“Wow,” Ash lets out a low whistle as she steps into the tightly packed space, “Did he just pack his whole life up in here when he married your mom?”

“Seems that way,” you say absently as you notice a box filled with framed photographs, “It’s not like Nancy let him decorate his own home. You saw how sad and beige it was in there. All of this would have just been clutter to Nancy, and God forbid her man bring reminders of his life before, or his family into her home.”

You pull out the top one, almost without thinking. You see a younger Dave with a small, dark-haired girl on his shoulders, her tiny hands fisted in his hair as he smiles at the camera. A slightly older looking girl is hanging off his pant leg, caught in a fit of laughter as Dave has a hand on either child, steadying them both.

You’re not sure which one is which, but their names come to you immediately.

“Molly and Alice,” you whisper to yourself as you grip the frame in your hands, you wonder if it was Carol that took the photo. You’re surprised that you don’t feel any jealousy towards her. Instead, your mind immediately fills with the thought of having that life with Dave. Being the one behind the camera, capturing these moments of him and his girls. Being a part of those moments with him, a part of his life. A family.

You feel the shiver run down your spine as you refuse to admit to yourself that hope for that life with Dave has already taken root. It’s been festering inside you for some time but seeing him happy with his girls makes you face it. The need to have that life with him is all-consuming, threatening to swallow you whole. It’s too much for you to bear because you don’t know you’d be able to cope if it all came apart at the seams. Right now, you have to focus on you, on your life.

You put the frame down in haste and make yourself walk away, there’s a thick, tight feeling in your throat. You press on, moving to the covered furniture and pull the dust covers away to reveal a full-size record console. You recognize it mostly from film and TV, not having seen one in person before. The dark grey, mesh covered speakers the biggest giveaway, but you have no idea how it opens.

“Oh my fucking god,” Ash squeals at your elbow and you wince at the way your ears are ringing, “This is a Wrensilva!”

“A what?” You ask as you watch Ash run her hands over the wooden surface of the console, clearly looking for something.

“It’s only one of the best modern record consoles on the market, these things go for ten grand or more.”

Ash explains with an excited energy usually only reserved for Sarah Michelle Gellar, Taylor Swift, and women she’s dating. Her fingers find purchase on the wooden panel on top and the hinge moves soundlessly as she pushes the cover open.

“This is pristine,” She breathes as her hands ghost over the brushed aluminum dials and knobs, as if she’s afraid to touch it.

“Shame he never had the chance to use it,” you say with sadness as you remember the small tabletop turntable in Dave’s basement. A far cry from the opulent piece of art before you.

“Do you think we could play something?” Ash says, already rifling through boxes of records to find something to play.

“If you can find somewhere to plug it in, be my guest,” You shrug as you pull off some more dust sheets to reveal a hoard of expensive-looking furniture. Everything is lacquered wood, there’s a dining table and chairs that would be way too big in your new studio apartment. You eye up a mahogany wardrobe with beautiful glass doors that would fit well in your bedroom.

The final item you uncover is a beautiful wooden writing desk with a curved shutter. There are drawers on either side of the space where a chair would go, with intricate brass handles on all of them. You push up the wooden shutter to reveal the desk itself. It opens with ease, revealing small drawers and open spaces for letters and other small items along the top.

The flat surface has a leather mat inset into the wood, gold detailing in each corner. You run your fingertips over the smooth surface and imagine sitting at the desk with your laptop, pouring over legal notes and case briefs. There’s a perfect spot to put a desk lamp on the right.

You hear the needle drop, with the softest of scratches, and feel yourself take in a small breath as you wait for the music to start. The hauntingly beautiful sound of Nina Simone is crystal clear, and unbelievably rich through the bassy speakers. Clearly, Ash had found a power outlet. Feeling Good is one of your favorite songs, Ash knows this, and you smile as you look over your shoulder at her.

“Louis Armstrong, The California Ramblers,” Ash says approvingly as she saunters over to you, “Man has excellent taste.”

“I mean, have you seen me?” You scoff and Ash looks at you with a shocked expression, jaw hung open as she grins up at you.

“Are we doing this? Fully admitting you two are horny as fuck for one another?”

“After today, it’s more than a little obvious, don’t you think?” You say with a shrug, your lips pulled up into an unapologetic grin.

“Giiiiirl,” Ash squeals as she shakes her head in disbelief, “Ok but can we talk about those fucking grey sweatpants he wore today? I’m gay and I couldn’t help but fucking fixate.”

“Don’t,” you push on her shoulder as you feel your cheeks heat up, “I swear he wore them today to fucking torment me.”

“Is it as big as it looks?”

“Jesus Christ, Ash, for a lesbian you’re way too into dicks.”

“Women can have dicks too,” Ash points out and you roll your eyes.

“You’re way too into the dick of a cis man then,” you counter, and she just shrugs as she grins at you.

“You’re no fun,” Ash huffs, realizing you aren’t going to divest the size of Dave’s cock to her.

“It’s also fucking gorgeous,” you say as you head towards the door of the unit, not so much as looking at Ash as you go. The movers are waiting for you outside and you quickly tell them which pieces to take out to the truck.

“You’re such a fucking tease,” Ash groans as she scrambles after you, “Could we at least go dildo shopping so you can point out an adequate substitute?”

“You’re so fucking gross,” you laugh as you turn off the console, putting the record back in its sleeve before unplugging it. Ash replaces the lid of the console and paws at it balefully, like a lovesick puppy.

“That’s not a no,” Ash wiggles her eyebrows at you as you put the boxes back on the shelving units.

“Only if you buy me one too, Nancy ruined my favorite one by fondling it before covering it in mashed potatoes.”

“No, not Vibro Vibescal?!”

“The very same,” You say solemnly as you make your way back to the door of the storage unit, “No way could I bring myself to put him inside me after that, food and pussies just don’t mix.”

“And no-one wants their moms touching their toys.”

“Ugh don’t,” you groan as you lean against the exterior wall, you’re so ready to get home and start unpacking.

“So, what will you call the new one?” Ash asks as she rests her head on your shoulder, snaking an arm around your waist.

“I dunno,” you muse, “Maybe Hole Filler?”

“I don’t get it,” Ash says, and you can hear the pout in her tone as you watch the movers grab the writing desk. The last item.

“Like Joel Miller, from The Last of Us?”

“Too far a walk to get to the punch line,” Ash grumbles as she tries to think of something else.

“We good to go?” You hail one of the movers as he passes you both.

“All set, just checking, this the address?” The man asks as he holds out his phone, the address already inputted on the Maps app.

“That’s the one,” you nod and start locking up the unit.

“See you there, ma’am.”

You smile to yourself at the honorific. The moment you’re happy everything is set up you loop your arm through Ash’s own. You stroll back to the car, your heart a little heavier. You try not to dwell on the way you can’t stop thinking about the photo of Dave and his girls.

~*~

You unlock the front door to your open plan apartment with a jingle of keys and hurried movements. The second-floor apartment is exactly as you remembered it. Dark hardwood floors, high ceilings with arched windows. The walls are a soft blue, bare, but for a few framed posters the last occupant left. You make a mental note to take them down. You head through the main living space, beckoning Ash to come inside.

“Shit, how much is this costing you?” Ash says as she steps in behind you.

“Not as much as you’d think. Two people died in the bedroom; the rental company couldn’t shift the place. Apparently, it was big news a year ago?”

“People died in here?” Ash whispers.

“Ash, people die in homes all the time,” you sigh as you watch the movers pile the furniture into the middle of the room, “I’m much more afraid of the living.”

“But like,” Ash looks around the open space with wide eyes, “Isn’t it weird?”

“All I care about is that it’s almost half as cheap as anything else for rent in this part of Austin,” you shrug, dead people can’t hurt you.

“You’re far braver than me,” Ash says with a shudder, “I couldn’t live in an apartment that has ghosts.”

“Ghosts aren’t real, Ash,” you laugh as the movers start to bring up the furniture.

“Where do you want us to set things up?” The lead mover asks as he wipes his brow.

“It’s fine, I’ll sort it,” you say with a wave of your hand, not wanting to pay extra to have them set up the bed and other items.

“Mr York pre-paid for the service, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Alright,” you nod, your heart fluttering at Dave’s thoughtfulness.

You instruct the movers to set up the bed in the other room, the only space that isn’t open plan. Then they set up the chairs and desk in the main room, the desk sits beautifully under the main window, looking out into the city below. They stack the moving boxes in your bedroom.

The moment the movers are gone you head back down to Ash’s car to get your prop box. You expect Ash to come back up with you, but she shakes her head.

“I’ve gotta catch up on work, but we’ll do something this weekend yeah? Maybe throw a housewarming? Invite Peter?”

“Sounds good,” you say as you pull her into a firm half-hug as you balance the prop box on your hip, “Thank you so much for today.”

“Anytime,” she tilts her head at you with a smile, “But please, don’t get murdered by your ghosts.”

“I promise,” you say with an exasperated sigh as you hold your hand over your heart. She sighs at your lack of sincerity before getting into her car. You wave her off as she leaves, only heading back up to your apartment after she disappears from view. You reach the top step, about to enter the main building when you feel the prickle of uncertainty under your skin. You look over your shoulder, scanning the street for anything out of place. But there’s nothing there, just the typical bustle of people going about their business. There aren’t any obvious signs of a PI, but you feel unease as you slip inside.

You lock your door behind you, already eager for Dave to get his security contractor in to set up the alarm and cameras. You set your prop box down on your bed before you start unpacking the rest of your clothes and bedding. The wardrobe just about fits all your clothes, but you make a note on your phone to plan a trip to IKEA at some point for a chest of drawers for the rest of your clothes. You think of anything you need for the kitchen, cutlery, plates, all that mundane stuff.

You set your laptop up on the writing desk and pull over one of the wingback chairs, it’s too low to really use the desk comfortably but it’ll do for now. Your dual monitors and PC tower won’t fit on this. Another thing to add to the list, a computer desk for your room as you’d left the old one at Nancy’s. But the writing desk is perfect for studying, with ample room for a laptop and books as well as a lamp. Another thing to add to the list.

“Fuck,” you huff to yourself as you realize that the small – if expensive – offering of Dave’s furnishings certainly made a dent in what you need, but your new place was far from complete. You order pizza before taking a long shower, the water pressure is delightful. You pad back out into the bedroom in just a towel, grateful for the generous adjoining bathroom, and pull the throw off the prop box.

You hold the fabric to your nose, inhaling the sweet scent of home, of Dave. It’s faint, but it still fills you with a rush and you think about that morning you woke up in Dave’s arms. The way his lips brushed against yours in the haze of waking. The first real moment that you crossed a line echo in your mind as you feel nothing but euphoria as you press your face into the fleecy fabric.

You throw the blanket over your shoulders as you open the box. A smile tugs at the corners of your mouth as you see the olive-green hoodie and “USMC” logo front and center in the box. You drop your towel and pull the oversized garment on. You groan audibly at the smell of Dave’s bodywash, and his natural scent that you never can truly place as you pull it over your head. It’s like a hit of adrenaline spiking through you, it makes you bold.

You find a pair of leggings to pull on before grabbing your phone. You dial Dave’s number, heading over to the loveseat in the middle of the apartment. You flop down and to your dismay he doesn’t pick up. You glance at the time and realize it’s almost ten, a little late for a call. You open up Instagram to scroll when the call comes in.

“Everything ok?” There’s an urgency in Dave’s voice that makes your stomach flutter.

“Everything’s great just finished unpacking,” you say as you try not to whine at his voice in your ear, “Thank you, Dave. I know I keep saying it. But really, I can’t express how much all this means to me.”

“Like I said, think of it as a late birthday present.”

“This is a bit much for one birthday,” you argue, both of you are stalling again, neither wanting to hang up.

“I think you’ve had more than enough shitty birthdays to warrant being spoiled this time around.”

You don’t know what to say, because he’s not wrong. This is the most you’ve been spoiled in your life, not that the bar is all that high. But it’s nice to be seen, to have someone acknowledge it and try and make amends. Even if it isn’t his responsibility. But that’s probably why it means so much more to you.

“I found the hoodie,” you say as you bite your lip, all you can smell is Dave.

“I hope you didn’t mind me putting it in there,” he says, his voice lower now, almost a purr in your ear, “I always thought it looked better on you.”

“It feels like home.”

You know you’re being too forward, but you miss him, you wish he was here. But you can’t say any of that out loud, but you need to say something.

“You’re a good man, Dave,” you say softly, your voice barely more than a whisper.

“I try,” he says, and you hear something low, sorrowful in his voice as he speaks, “Anything you need, you know where I am.”

“I do, see you around, Dave.”

“Bye, Princess,” The nickname makes your heart flutter, and you hear a grunt of discomfort on the other line as Dave realizes what he’s said, “I-, I didn’t mean-,”

“See you around, Duke.”

You hang up the phone before he can say anything more, astonished at your own boldness. You squeal to yourself like you’re a teenager again, drifting dangerously close to outwardly flirting with him.

But the thing that is clear to you now, if you ever really had any doubts about how Dave felt have dissipated.

He feels the same way, whatever it is you have, no matter how irresponsible it is, it’s mutual.

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