Chapter Text
There’s something about being in Dirk’s brother’s presence that gives you the chills. Dirk and yourself are immediately ushered out of the airport and into one fancy schamncy car, where he sits in wait. His eyes are hidden behind a pair of sunglasses and his white blonde hair is swept to the side in a neat trim. What really unsettles you though is the complete and utter lack of emotion carefully placed on his face. You can’t keep your eyes off the bloke, if you’re honest. He’s got this air of pure charisma. It’s a little cold, and a little dark, and you’re not entirely sure you like it. Perhaps this is why Dirk is so indifferent, if not downright contemptuous, towards his elder brother.
You think he stares right at you, but you can’t be sure, what with his aviators perched on the bridge of his nose, as you get in the car. Much like Dirk, he seems to have an aversion to showing his eyes. Come to think of it, you’d never seen Dirk’s eyes either. Perhaps it was because he was blind and they were discolored? You can’t be sure. Nor can you be sure just as to why Dave had always been seen with sunglasses on as well. Maybe you’re overthinking it too much, but it’s a wonderment nonetheless.
“So you’re Jake, huh,” he says to you, and you notice that he’s got what must be a slight Southern drawl. It would be charming, maybe, if he didn’t sound so darn condescending. You decide that you won’t let that faze you one bit, however, so you respond with as much gusto as you can possibly muster.
“That would be me, yes. Happy to be of service!” You smile as politely as you can manage, even though deep down you’re more than a little intimidated and want nothing more than to curl up and turn away.
“I’ve heard a lot about you,” he continues, as though you’d never said anything at all. “Not from Dirk here though. Mostly from the Lalondes.”
“You talked to Rose?” Dirk says from your left. His face is turned towards the window, chin resting in the palm of his hand, sightlessly staring outward in what must be mock disinterest.
“Roxy,” Dave corrects him. “Rose won’t say shit to me anymore for whatever reason. I think she’s a little pissed that I didn’t read her book that just got published. But I was never one for wizard slash.”
“Frigglish is pretty cool,” is all Dirk has to say to that, and the car falls into an awkward silence for the rest of the ride, and while it has you on edge, Dirk and Dave seem perfectly pleased to not speak a word. Part of you is tempted to maybe strike up a conversation, like you’re prone to do in any awkward silence, but something tells you that it wouldn’t be appreciated on either end. So, you sit in silence and stare out the window, same as Dirk, until you pull up to a hotel. You look at Dave questioningly, but he ignores you, instead turning to Dirk.
“Will you stay here for a moment? I wanna talk.”
Dirk doesn’t so much as move, he only murmurs a soft, “Sure,” and then Dave turns to you, right as the car door opens. You take the hint and clamber out, closing the door behind you. The chauffeur that had opened your door directs you to the hotel, and you’re ushered inside hurriedly. You barely have a chance to look back as Dave slams the car door shut and Dirk disappears from your line of sight.
“Consarn it,” you breathe out, but continue to follow the chauffeur into the hotel. It’s enormous within, with a vaulted ceiling and a crystal chandelier dangling from above. The hotel in which Dirk had taken up residence in San Francisco was certainly fancy as well, but not compared to this monstrosity. You’re not quite sure that the shining gold on the walls here isn’t real. You look everywhere, making sure to take in every inch of the interior. It would seem Dave spared no expense when his brother visited. You’d think perhaps that maybe it was some form of endearment or concern for Dirk’s health if it weren’t for Dave’s demeanor in the car. The man was a jerkwad if you’d ever laid eyes on one, and this was no doubt for appearances alone. Heck, there was a man with a camera snapping your photo just over there.
The chauffeur seems to signal a woman at the desk, who merely nods at him and puts a phone to her ear. You can assume the room was prepared ahead of time. He guides you to the elevator, to which you stand off to the side rather awkwardly. The fellow didn’t speak much, and it was making you a bit antsy, this continued silence. He presses his finger into the button for floor ten, and there’s the tummy-tossing jolt as the elevator starts, and up you go. By the time he’s gotten you to the room, you’ve driven yourself just about mad. Your head hurts from attempting to maintain a polite stance and keep ahold of your already deprived social skills and you can’t tell if your stomach is churning from the elevator or from your nerves.
“Your belongings will be here momentarily,” he says before he leaves, and all you can manage is a short nod before he’s gone. You sit on one of the two beds, practically falling into it with how tired you suddenly feel, and take in the room. The grandeur remained much the same as below, just on a smaller scale. The furniture looked brand-spanking-new, and the decorations looked a tad too expensive to even be allowed in the same vicinity as you. You pick up a crystal piece on the nightstand beside you, turning it in your fingers, before gently putting it down. A plasma screen TV set sits on a stand in front of the two queen sized beds, the screen matte and blank. Turning, just to be certain, you see there are two chocolates and a mint resting gently on your pillow. Not ever in your life had you ever been subject to such luxury.
Your phone gives a few buzzes and you pull it out of your pocket to find that it’s a text from Jane. You breath a sigh of relief. Somehow the thought of conversing with your cousin, even just via text, is enough to soothe the snakepit of your anxiety.
GG: Hey there, Jake! How’s everything going?
GT: Well enough i spose… I must confess im in a bit of a tizzy currently trying to sort myself out.
GT: Who would have thought that this whole affair would be so taxing on the nerves?
GG: That’s Hollywood for you. :B
GT: Well i wouldnt necessarily chalk it up to just that per se…
GT: Its more that dirks dadblasted elder brother is well… well… hes dadblasted to say in the least!!
GG: I never liked him, myself! He always seemed too distant to me… Is everything else going alright?
GT: Just dandy and i mean that without any sarcasm. However im none too sure i can guarantee that for much longer. My nerves are starting to get the best of me and im plum exhausted now.
GT: Enough about me though. How are things going with you?
The doorknob jiggles some, and the chauffeur comes in with the luggage, followed by what appears to be a very disgruntled Dirk. The bags are placed to the side of the door and the chauffeur exits the room and turns to say a few words. Dirk slams the door behind him before the he can open his mouth, and then moves his guiding stick around some to scope the area. Better alert him to your presence.
GG: Thanks for asking Jake! Things are going pretty well, actually. Roxy is over for a visit right now!
GG: heeeey jakeroonie ;)
GG: That was her, not me.
GT: Whoops sorry jane! Ive got to jet for the moment but ill catch up with both you lovely ladies later!
GG: Oh, alright. Bye, Jake!
“Strider,” you say, “Over here!”
His head turns in a flash, but he doesn’t say anything for a few moments, before his shoulders slump and he finds his way over to you. “Sorry to leave you hangin’ there, buddy,” he says, and he nearly sits in your lap before you manage to scoot over.
“No worries! Well, on my end, anyway. Everything alright with you?” You lean back into the bed, the cushions sinking under your weight, and use your elbows to prop you up.
“Just the usual. The guy doesn’t know shit about maintaining personal relationships.” Dirk pauses for a moment, mouth parting slightly as he thinks. “Not that I really do either,” he finishes.
“That’s a load of hogwash,” you scoff, shaking your head. “Listen here, Dirk Strider, you’re alright. Sure you can appear a bit standoffish at times but nothing like your brother. I see what you meant about the fellow! He’s a great big--”
“Dickhead.”
“Precisely.”
A smile tugs at his lips, and the one already forming on your own breaks into a grin. “Let’s forget about him for the night, shall we? We don’t have to do anything concerning your brother until the premier tomorrow evening, right?” You stand, moving over to the luggage and pulling out a few movies you’d had the sense to pack.
“I know you can’t see, but that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy a good film. Besides, I’m an expert at description. I can give you a play by play of every move these folks pull. What do you say?”
Dirk stares blankly in your direction, before that smile tugging at his lips pulls upwards into a smirk. “Sure.”
== >
It’s dark. Dark, but you can see. You can see your brother, standing above you, dressed just as you remember last seeing him: hair mussed slightly, shades crooked, shirt undone and pants wrinkled. You can see that his face is twisted in anger, and you can see the red of his eyes gleaming in the darkness. In his hand, he holds a bottle of acid that glows softly. He leans forward, and to your horror, begins to tip the bottle over towards your eyes.
“Wait!”
The word spills out of your mouth before you can stop it. Thankfully, he freezes, and he stares at you in astonishment. Your hands are slicked with sweat as you unapologetically raise your hand towards him. Slowly, you take Dave’s hand. “Please,” you murmur, “Please don’t do this to me. I want to see.”
“I can’t,” he says quietly, face softening momentarily before contorting in terror. “I can’t do that. This is my punishment.”
“Punishment?” you say scornfully, and sit up slightly. “Punishment for what? For leaving me?”
He shakes his head. “I regret doing that, but it was for your safety. You couldn’t be close. You couldn’t be close and yet they still found you. They found you and they punished me by hurting you. This is my punishment.”
His hand shoots out and grips your shoulder, followed by him shoving you back down to the ground, knocking your head to the kitchen floor with a crack. It barely registers that it should actually hurt, because it doesn’t, but you’re not concentrating on that right now. You’re concentrating on the looming bottle that he’s tipping over. It’s hazy, and you can barely focus on it, but the minute the liquid pours free, your eyes are on fire.
It hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it--
You lurch forward from the bed, barely containing the insides of your stomach as you wake from the dream. Jake startles beside you, the sheets moving beneath you as he shifts, and there’s a sharp intake of breath from him. But you don’t care about him right now. Right now it hurts. It hurts it hurts it hurts. Your eyes burn beneath your shades, and you rip them off, rubbing at your eyes with the heels of your palms until tears begin to form at the inner corners.
Warm hands are suddenly on your shoulders, and you know you should enjoy this, lean into it, but instinct has you jerking away violently, and you stand, heaving in every breath. You can’t see again, and you’re in the hotel. You’re in the hotel with Jake. Distantly, you can hear Chris Pratt speaking with Zoe Saldana, discussing dancing. You were watching a movie with Jake. Or… Listening to a movie with Jake. You’re not back home in the kitchen, and Dave is no doubt in his apartment suite right now, living it up with whoever his latest sex toy is. He’s nowhere near you right now.
When at last you manage to stop shaking, Jake’s hand slips into yours, and this time you allow it. Slowly, he leads you back to the bed, and gently helps you get yourself situated back into a comfortable position. Not a word escapes his mouth, and for once, you’re grateful he’s quiet. Both of you settle back into the movie, and you ride it out, staying awake through every moment, even though you can’t see anything and can barely understand what’s happening. You’re still stiff with remnants of fear, and even Jake’s presence and the familiarity of his hand does nothing to calm you down. Every once and a while, Jake leans over and murmurs to you an important detail, and you nod your appreciation.
When the ending theme finally begins to play, you know your blessed silence is up. Jake turns to you, the sheets tugging around you and the shifting rustling in your ears. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asks, his voice soft.
“Not particularly,” you say.
There’s more silence from him, the music from the credits the only sound, and then he continues. “Do you want to talk about what happened in the car, then?”
“No.”
The time in the car spent alone with your brother had been brief and inconsequential. If Jake thought that had spurred your nightmare, he was wrong. The most Dave had said to you was that Jake was an eyesore, and you were lucky you were blind. You’d been pretty snarky right back, saying something to the effect of how God had blessed you to be blind to Dave’s sorry face. He had laughed some, which had pissed you off, and he’d continued to talk about being careful for the premier. You’d listened, sure, but frankly you were more pissed off at the earlier commentary that you didn’t particularly care.
Jake doesn’t say anything else, and you both continue out to the old 80’s hits of the movie before at last it’s over. Jake’s still silent, and you almost wonder if it was him who’d knocked out this time, but he proves you wrong by squeezing your hand once before removing it.
It’s then that something inside you decides to act on impulse, and you turn your body towards him, facing him as best you can. You realize that your shades have been off for the entirety now of this movie, and while you’re more than a little worried, you hope that maybe this helps the situation you’re about to create for yourself.
“So… isn’t this the part where we make out?”