#she’s always cold so. Dave lended her a sweatshirt

[shmorp-mcdurgen]

i miss zombie girl evelin, can’t wait to see what she looks like :3

She’s. Seen better days, definitely- /lhj

[vivitalks]

for the prompt ask: 11 and Jack and Davey bc I feel like Davey would have to force Jack to wear a coat sometimes you know

i completely agree and this is accurate (pre-slash fic because i’m lame)

11.  “just tAKE THE JACKET”

It's late when Jack leaves the Jacobs's household. Late and windy and cold.

"Jack, dear, we can give you a ride home, it's no fuss," Davey's mom tells him, and Jack shakes his head.

"Really, miss Jacobs, I'll be okay. It's only a few minutes from here anyhow, an' the fresh air'll be good." He flashes her a charming smile and she returns it.

"Okay, well, if you're sure." She pats his shoulder. "I'm going to bed. Davey, make sure he bundles up."

Davey rolls his eyes, his back turned to his mom. "Yeah, Ima."

"Goodnight, sweetheart." She kisses the top of his head and ruffles Jack's hair, and then she disappears into her bedroom and Davey is left alone with Jack in the front hall.

"Well," Jack says, "I oughta get goin'." He shifts on his feet. Davey glances out the window – it looks cold, even though things can't technically look cold. There's a kind of harsh reality to the outside world, where everything is sharp edges. Davey cracks a smile at Jack.

"Sure," he says, turning around to survey his living room, "just let me get a jacket for you."

He crosses the carpet when he spots one of his dad's old sweatshirts, folded up on the edge of the couch. It belongs to Davey now – he'd gotten it from his father a year ago. Imprinted on the front are a few Hebrew words Davey can't translate, even though his dad keeps telling him what they mean. It's not his fault he keeps forgetting.

He holds out the sweater to Jack, and Jack looks from it to Davey, and then grins. "Nah, Dave. Thanks, but I'll be fine."

Davey blinks. "Jack, it's freezing out."

"'S not that cold," Jack protests. "I'm used to it."

Davey doesn't even want to think about what that means. "It's like forty degrees, Jack. That's only eight degrees above freezing, literally."

"Eight whole degrees," Jack reasons. "Eight degrees of me not freezin'."

Davey rolls his eyes. "Jack, come on."

Jack swats Davey's hand away. "Nope."

"Jack."

"I don't want it."

"Jack, just take the jacket!"

"I don't want your charity, Dave!"

Davey pauses. "Charity? This is a sweater. You don't even get to keep it. What are you talking about?"

Jack swallows, and Davey thinks he looks very guarded suddenly. "Nothing, I just – I won't be cold. I gotta go, Dave, really."

He turns to go and Davey grabs his wrist. "Jesus, Jack," he says slowly. "All I want is for you to not freeze on your way home. There's an easy solution. It's not like I'm working my ass off to find a coat for you. It's right here, I'm going to see you tomorrow so you can give it back...what's the big deal?"

Jack huffs. "I don't like takin' people's things, Dave. I don't like owing people."

"You won't owe me anything," Davey says, confused. "You're just going to give it back. Done and done."

Jack shrugs. "It is what it is."

"Plus we're friends," Davey adds. "It's not like I'm some stranger. We lend each other stuff we need, that's what friends do."

Jack scoffs, unresponsive.

"Well, as your friend, can you please accept this sweatshirt as a temporary gift to keep you warm? Please?" Davey persists. Also, it wouldn't hurt to see Jack in one of Davey's sweaters, because Davey has found that he looks really good in them. Not that this matters at all, but as a point of interest. "It won't be charity, Jack. It's a favor. To me. I'll owe you. How about that?" He pokes Jack in the shoulder, and Jack wrestles his wrist out of Davey's grip and sighs in a manner that seems altogether not quite disappointed.

"Alright, okay," he surrenders. "I'll take the damn sweater."

Davey grins and claps him on the shoulder. "Thank you."

"Pfft." Jack slips the sweatshirt over his head and runs his fingers through his hair twice to fix it from getting mussed up. Davey reaches out, on instinct more than anything, and readjusts the collar to sit more comfortably. Jack chuckles and gently pushes his hand away. Jack's always so gentle with Davey. It's strange, because he's got such a fiery temper and a fierce nature, but he never yells or slaps or yanks. Davey appreciates this, probably more than he can ever vocalize, because – loud situations make him anxious, and even though there can't be any way Jack would know this, and Davey's never told him, he still watches his volume and behavior. It's small, yeah, but Davey notices.

"Sorry," he mutters.

"Nah, it's good," Jack encourages. "See, what would I do without you? My mother slash best friend."

"I'm okay with only the latter," Davey says, ruffling Jack's hair, which is probably something he picked up from his mother. "Alright, brave soldier. Go home. Fare well. Get some rest. Bring my sweatshirt back tomorrow."

Jack flashes him that same charming smile he'd just used on Ms. Jacobs and Davey resists the urge to melt. Turns out charm works on him, who knew? "Might jus' keep it. Looks good on me, don't it?"

"Yeah," Davey says, and then coughs. "I mean. Depends who you ask. I'm indifferent."

"Yeah, right," Jack says, smile turning devilish. "You love this."

"No comment."

Jack raises an eyebrow. "G'night, Dave."

"'Night, Jack." Jack hugs him quickly and then, with a final wave, slips out the front door into the chill.

Davey collapses into an armchair. He's going to have to recharge his Jack-resistance battery. It's getting weaker every time they interact.