Work Text:
It’s late when David gets back to the office.
He was pleasantly surprised with the way Poppy’s speech had been received; hopefully this would help dampen MQ’s reputation in the industry for being a “hostile work environment to women” (which was mostly Poppy’s fault anyway, since it was mainly her who fucked up the ‘Girls Can Code’ tour last year, but whatever). Her manipulating him into hiring a new team of programmers was … less good.
The weight of his loss really started sinking in after the event; the costs were going to be huge, and he had no idea how he was going to explain this to Montreal. They were already pissed the studio now had two creative directors in a role that objectively only needed one and now doubling the programming costs … he was fucked.
David had originally planned to go home straight from the event, but he decided to go back to the office to talk to Brad. Brad would figure out a way around this, he always did. Plus, he had told him earlier that week he was trying to figure out a mobile game, which, according to Brad, should bring in some money to cover what he described as “an emergency fund for the DICKWADs” (Directors of In-game Creative Knowledge, World-building and Artistic Direction - Brad’s acronym, not his).
When he got the office, it was mostly empty. Jo was in their shared office, sitting next to Brad’s desk, typing on her laptop. Brad was nowhere to be seen.
“Hey, Jo,” David said, walking past her to put his bag on his desk and taking out his computer. She grunted in response, not looking up from whatever she was typing. “Where’s Brad? He hasn’t gone home already, has he?”
“He’s in the monetization room.”
“Ok, I’ll just - oh, hey, by the way, how’d the mobile app pitch go today? Brad said you were helping produce it?”
“Brad killed it.”
“Wha- how come?”
Jo shrugged. “Testers fucked it up, as usual.”
Well, there goes the DICKWAD fund.
He just stared at Jo, her back turned to him. She had been giving him the cold shoulder ever since he forfeited during the Everlight tournament. And it was fine if she wanted to work for Brad and not him (totally fine, it didn’t hurt at all), but he was still a boss! The boss, in fact. He should be respected.
He sighed. Whatever. He could deal with this some other day. He needed to find Brad.
Despite what Jo had said, Brad was not in the monetization room. The place was empty, everyone evidently having left for the day. David briefly considered going back and trying to get Jo to help find him (and no doubt she could, she had a bloodhound-like ability to track people down), but didn’t want to deal with her attitude any more tonight. David reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone.
He called Brad, but it went straight to voicemail. David cursed under his breath and tried again. No response. David threw his phone down onto one of the desks and dropped into a chair, putting his head in his hands. He really had gotten himself into hot water with this new programming team bullshit, and if Brad had killed the mobile game …
He started doing the math in his head. They probably were going to need about 10 new guys - uh, people - and programming salaries in LA were not cheap, plus benefits … maybe he could hire contractors instead of full time employees? That would probably be easier to justify the cost to Montreal, even though it would be more expensive overall -
David was cut off from his train of thought by the sound of a short high pitched sound. He looked up, startled. It sounds like … a squeak? A hiccup?
“Hello?” David did another quick scan of the room. There was nobody there. He looked under the desks just to be sure; no one. It was getting dark outside and the monetization room was always unreasonably dark anyway, so David was starting to get spooked.
He was just about able to convince himself that he had imagined the noise when he heard it again, but louder. It was coming from the far side of the room. There was a door in the corner next to the … whiteboard? David had never seen it before (honestly, he never spent much time in here). He noticed a dim light, only visible because the rest of the room was so dark, seeping out through the crack below the door.
David slowly stood up. Again, he considered getting Jo - after seeing her violence at Everlight he definitely would feel a lot safer with her here - but he reminded himself that he was the boss and this was his studio and ghosts definitely weren’t real anyway so there was nothing to be afraid of. He remembered suddenly the story Brad had told him years ago that this building was actually the site of some fire that killed a bunch of people and was most likely haunted, but he was pretty sure Brad had been making that up just to fuck with him. Probably. Whatever. Point is, he was totally brave enough to face whatever was back there by himself without the help of a young girl - uh, woman.
David crept to the door and silently leaned against it, listening. He could hear the noise through the door. The sound was … crying? He instantly felt relief that it wasn't a ghost (which he totally, obviously knew the whole time anyway), and then a smug satisfaction that, apparently, he wasn’t the only one to cry in this office. He immediately chastised himself; he should be concerned , that was the appropriate reaction, he was a boss and he cared about his employees. And as a caring boss, it was his responsibility to go in there and … comfort whoever was crying.
David took a deep breath and opened the door.
The sound stopped immediately. The room was small, practically a closet, that appeared to house nothing more than a bunch of computer servers and some random filing cabinets. To his immediate right against the wall was a long table, but the chairs pushed against it were empty. It was clear to him now that the light he had seen was nothing more than the red and green flashing lights of the computer servers.
David stepped further into the room. “Hello?” Silence. “Is someone in here?”
He was feeling around on the wall for a light switch when he heard a sniffle. He paused and slowly walked over to the far corner towards the sound. There, nestled between the computer servers and the wall, was Brad.
David froze, shocked. Brad looked … so small. He sat on the floor, knees pulled up to his chest and arms wrapped around his legs, head resting against his knees. David absently wondered how he managed to get himself into such a crouched position; Brad was slender, for sure, but it looked like he had folded himself up to be as compact as physically possible. His joints must hurt like hell.
Brad gave another wet sniffle, head down, not looking at David.
“Brad?” David said softly. What the hell was going on? “Are you ok?”
“Imfine, just go away.” Brad’s voice was raw; clearly he had been crying for a while. David’s heart lurched.
David glanced over his shoulder and made for the door, still hanging open. He closed it softly before moving back towards Brad.
“I said go away,” Brad tried again, but whatever ferociousness he had been trying to get across was dampened by his voice cracking at the end.
Against his better judgement, David kneeled down in front of Brad. “Hey, what’s wrong, what happened?”
“Fuck off.”
“... was it Jo? I’d be lying if I said she’d never made me cry before, I mean she can be so mean- ”
“What? David, no, Jesus, I’m not that sensitive.”
“Well, I mean, you are crying alone in the dark- ”
“I’m not crying,” Brad protested weakly.
“Right, sure, just - what is it? Maybe I can help?”
“No.”
“Yknow, a certain someone says that being vulnerable is a risk we have to take if we want to experience connection,” David pointed out.
“I don’t want to experience connection, I want you to leave, and by the way, she also says our stories are not meant for everyone, so you can fuck right off, David.”
“Stories? So there’s a sto- wait, hold on, did you look at the links I sent you?” David preened slightly.
“Fuck. Off. David.”
David hesitated for a moment before sighing and standing up. He turned and left the room silently, and Brad was alone.
Brad wrapped in on himself tighter. He buried his head between his knees. This was good, he told himself. He wanted David to leave. He needed to be alone; having people around would only make it worse. He should have found a better place to hide, somewhere with a lock. At least it was only David who found him, not someone like Jo or Ian or Poppy, or someone who had the sense to recognize this for what it was: a vulnerability to be exploited.
He tried not to think of the photograph that had started this whole thing. The mobile game wasn’t going to work; the testers had over complicated it, which honestly he should have seen coming, but there was no reason for them to bring … them into it. For fucks sake, the game was about a goat, why did the imprisonment and slaughtering of innocent pigs have to do with anything-
He felt himself starting to well up again, violent images starting to intrude his brain. He couldn’t stop hearing the noise, the sound of her panicked screeches and wails, the sound of Zack’s grunts as he held her down, and worst of all, her silence when it was over. Brad’s breath picked up and he squeezed his legs so tight he felt his feet go numb. Don’t think about it, don’t think about it, don’t think.
He didn’t hear the door open again. Suddenly, there were warm hands resting on his shoulders, sliding up and down his arms. He normally hated being touched, but the feeling distantly reminded him where he was. He was at work. Fuck, he was at work.
A sense of failure hit Brad like a truck, and he started to sob again in earnest. He was gasping for air. He couldn’t breathe.
“Hey, hey, Brad, it’s ok, it’s ok,” David cooed, rubbing Brad’s arms from what he could reach. David was shocked. His wife (fuck, ex-wife ) used to have panic attacks and hated to be touched during them, but watching Brad on the floor crying and rocking back and forth after having been somewhat composed just a few minutes ago (composed enough to tell him to fuck off, anyway), he couldn’t help himself.
Should he stop touching him? He’s making it worse, right? David tentatively pulled his hands away, but Brad’s hand shot out and grabbed one of his wrists before he could get too far. He let go almost instantly, like he’d been burned, but David understood.
He scooted closer to Brad, settling himself against the wall, and put his arm around Brad’s shoulder as much as he could given his position squeezed into the corner. David pushed the tissue box that he had left the room to get against Brad’s feet so it was in reach. David had also brought a bottle of water (he knew from experience that crying makes you really dehydrated) and Brad’s weird special Rubik’s cube he liked to play with when he was feeling stressed. He put his other hand on top of Brad’s knee and gently rubbed back and forth.
“I know, I know, it’s ok …” he whispered, just wanting to say something, anything. He tried not to look at Brad, trying to give him the privacy he clearly wanted, but for some reason David yearned to be closer. He wanted to look at Brad head on, he wanted to experience this. Maybe it was because it had been so long since he had been intimate (not sexually - though that too - but emotionally) with another actual, living person. His wife had always been distant and hated when David was acting “overly emotional” and David barely had anyone he could call a friend. Besides, his whole life, he was always “the soft one”; he was never the ‘shoulder to cry on’ and always the one crying.
It felt … nice to be needed. He wanted to be needed. Even if it was by Brad, Brad who acted like he hated him and called him a pussy and stole his assistant from him. But for some reason, it was almost better that it was by Brad. Brad didn’t trust anyone; the man was an island, isolated and self-dependent. David felt a sudden, selfish desire to be the one Brad trusted, him and only him.
Whatever it was, it seemed to be working; after a while, Brad’s breathing slowed down and the sobbing subsided. He slowly unfolded his legs, wincing slightly as his joints popped, and stretched them out the only place they could go, across David’s lap. Now that the crying had calmed down, David just stared at him. He couldn’t really see him given how dark it was, but he could tell Brad’s face was wet and puffy. His hair was a mess. He had snot running down his lip, dribbling into his mouth. Brad wiped at it pathetically, inhaling through the nose wetly, before grabbing a tissue from the box at his feet and blowing his nose, missing the tissue and blowing half of it into his hand. He was so beautiful. David felt like he’d never been so close with another person in his life. He couldn’t look away.
After Brad had (mostly) cleaned himself up, David took the used tissues from his hand where Brad was attempting to stuff them in his pocket and handed him the water bottle. Brad cracked the seal and, to David’s delight, chugged nearly half of it in one go.
David absentmindedly kept rubbing his hand up and down Brad’s leg. Brad just leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes, taking deep breaths. David selfishly wanted him to fall asleep so he could sit here and watch; he didn’t want this moment to end. He just wanted to be closer to Brad, wanted to make him feel better, wanted to stay .
He suddenly felt very, very cold, like someone had dumped ice water on his head. This was weird, right? This was … he tried not to let himself feel these types of feelings. Not with - not with other men. He hadn’t even noticed he was doing anything, that he was feeling it - he was just acting on instinct. He slowly retracted his hand from where it lay on Brad’s leg and cleared his throat, trying to get ahold of himself.
At the sound, Brad opened his eyes and looked him in the eye for the first time since this whole thing started. Right away, David was drawn back in; he felt guilty, but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember about what. It was like walking into a room and immediately forgetting why you were there: everything before that moment felt completely blank, like trying to look into the void. Brad’s eyes were pitch black in the dark room, but just knowing they were there, staring back at him, made David feel like they were sharing something rare, something special. Something only for them. His breath caught in his throat.
“Do you … wanna talk about it?” He spoke as softly as he could, terrified of startling Brad like a deer in the woods.
Brad froze and then withdrew. David felt a lurch of fear, thinking rapidly how he could get back that moment between them, before realizing Brad was just shifting from where he sat in the corner, crossing his legs and turning so he and David sat side-to-side. They weren’t looking at each other anymore. There was an inch of space between their shoulders; after a moment, Brad sighed and leaned into David, closing it, and placing his head on David’s shoulder.
“It’s stupid,” Brad mumbled. David felt an impulse to grab his hand, but instead, he picked up Brad’s Rubik’s cube and set it in his lap. Brad hummed and started twisting it mindlessly.
He was quiet for a minute before continuing. “It was the stupid mobile game. Rachel … they made it about … there were pigs. Being slaughtered. And I didn’t like that.”
“And so … you came in here?”
“Yeah.”
David was confused. Why were there pigs being slaughtered in the mobile game? Aren’t mobile games supposed to be simple? And since when did Brad care about animals dying? He was the one who loved those terrifying predator-prey videos.
“If you tell anyone, I’ll kill you,” Brad said.
“If I tell anyone that you don’t like watching pigs get slaughtered? I don’t think that’s exactly an unpopular opinion, Brad.”
“No, you asshole, I meant like-”
“Yeah, I know what you meant. For what it's worth, I doubt anyone would believe me.”
Brad was quiet for a moment. “What’re you doing here, anyway?”
“Hm? Oh, uh, I was looking for you because - well, basically Poppy manipulated me and so now-”
“No, David, I mean like, why’re you here ?”
David turned his head and Brad lifted his head from David’s shoulder to look back. God, they were close. David swallowed heavily.
“You … you looked like you needed a friend.”
“You’re not my friend,” Brad shot back quickly.
“Yeah, I know,” David said, trying not to sound hurt. “But- you can trust me, Brad.”
Brad shook his head. “Trust is weakness.”
David rolled his eyes. “Yeah, ok, whatever, I just … I’m here because I wanted to be, ok? I- I wanted to stay.”
That shut Brad up. God he’s annoying . But David couldn’t tear himself away. He should stand up, he should leave, he should say something mean before Brad says something mean first. He hates Brad. He can’t stand to see him upset. He wants to hold him tight and never let anything hurt him ever again. He’s terrified of Brad. Being this close to him is electrifying. He doesn’t deserve to be up close to something this beautiful. Brad could tear his throat out without a second thought. He wouldn’t though, right? Would he?
Brad leans forward and David’s eyes close instinctively. And then they’re kissing, and it’s soft and sweet and gentle, and then it’s over, and he’s pulling away, and David can’t stand it, he can’t .
He reaches out and holds Brad’s face, pulling him back. They kiss again, chaste, but it sends a wave of heat through David’s whole body. He shifts closer to Brad on pure instinct. Brad’s lips are soft, despite having been crying for who knows how long, his face feels soft, and God, it’s like kissing a woman except it’s not because he can somehow feel under his hand that it’s Brad Brad Brad .
And then Brad pulls away again, turning his head to press his cheek against David’s so that David can’t reach his lips.
“David?”
“Yeah?”
He pulls back far enough to look David in the eye. David can barely think. He wants to kiss him again. God, his eyes are beautiful.
“Now, definitely no one will believe you.”
He stands up, briefly straddling David’s lap to get out of his corner (which makes David’s head spin - it takes everything in him not to grab Brad’s waist and hold him down in his lap). Brad grabs the water bottle and his special toy before swiftly leaving the room without a second glance, closing the door behind him.
David just sits there, paralyzed by a whirlwind of emotions. After a while, he feels like he’s able to make sense of it all. He knows what this is. He knows what he needs.
He needs to get a girlfriend.