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Whilst Dirk's music taste tends to be fun, upbeat tunes that the radio blares, he dips his toes in other genres on occasion. After being trapped in a cycle of white walls, nauseating fluorescent lights and patronising voices for years, he likes to have small shifts in routine. Nothing big- the Universe already provides the big stuff.
On better days of adjusting to life outside of Blackwing, Dirk likes exploring new places. Staying in America is not a long term plan right now- in fact, he's getting the hell out of here in a couple days- and only returning if the Universe requires him to. But he still wants to end his time here on a positive note. After wandering the streets late at night, he stumbles into some sort of concert. Nobody checks him at the entrance, so he strolls in; eyes wide in curious wonder.
The place is loud, smokey- an inky sea of leather, with glints of silver under the dirty lights. Dirk's experiences with concerts are from movies, uncertain if they're exactly like this- and he definitely isn't the most appropriately dressed for it (yes, he's wearing leather, but it's light blue, not black). But there are tables with red solo cups, so that's a reassurance. He snags one up, even if it's to keep his hands occupied.
The music thumps so loud it reverberates in his chest, as he slinks though the small crowd at the stage. It's not his usual music of choice- this is hardly top 40s pop for the radio- but something about it has him drawn in. He manages to make it to the front of the crowd, right by the stage. Staring up at the current performing band, whilst getting bumped by excited, screaming strangers. The music is rough- grit that Dirk wants to reach out and run his fingers over where the music surrounds him.
Far too self-conscious to dance, but he finds himself swaying, regardless. The beat makes the usual tired haziness that hangs heavy over him lift off his shoulders.
He doesn't recognise them, the band. But he's not savvy on such a topic anyway, and isn't in the habit looking any of them up. Certainly not ones where each member is made up of ripped denim, patches and leather. Dirk stares up at the member in the middle. Clearly the frontman- singing into the mic, strumming on a guitar.
Dirk's eyes bounce between the guy's lips to the way his fingers move over the strings, to his hips swaying slightly to the beat, and getting more energetic during the instrumental where he flings his head back; fingers going wild on the strings. Dirk watches the way his throat bobs as he swallows.
Under the denim jacket, covered in pins and patches, is a mesh shirt and the waistband of his jeans is teasingly low. Heat rises high in Dirk's cheeks and he takes a long sip of shitty, cheap beer for a failed attempt to cool it down. It doesn't work. So, he valiantly tries to focus on anything else. Staring at the guy's face was a good idea in hindsight.
Bit of a regret now- the guy's face is gorgeous. Messy, wavy hair sticking to his forehead, smokey make-up making his eyes somehow bigger and bluer. Dirk thinks he catches the glint of a tongue piercing when he parts his dark-stained lips. Oh, Dirk's going to be in trouble if he doesn't look away. But he doesn't want to- the music is good. Aggressive and angry, with a sly mischief underneath, from how the singer performs. It reminds Dirk of a certain group of crazy men that he's always desperate to avoid, so why is this making Dirk squirm for entirely different reasons?
Dirk's not... inexperienced with these types of emotions (and the ways to deal with them). But he's also not exactly experienced, either.
After the third song ends, and the next begins- one sung with lower vocals, because of course- they lock eyes. The guy grins with a wink, gaze roaming down Dirk's body, whilst singing some particularly raunchy lyrics. Panicked, because the part of his brain that goes 'holy shit cute guy flirting' has now gone into overdrive, so he needs to get the hell out of here before he does something stupid like immediately die on the spot. Which would be rude.
He wiggles through the crowd in a blind frazzle, spluttering out apologies until he's nearer the back.
"Whoa- shit! Watch it!"
"S-sorry!"
Dirk had pretty much crashed into some poor woman. She has a nose ring, and slightly tacky neon streaks in her hair. Despite her annoyance, her open anger softens at the sight of him.
"Dude, you alright?"
"Fine, crowd big." He fumbles out. Band member hot. His brain unhelpfully thinks.
The woman rises a brow. "Right. Do you need to step outside? Or you with someone?"
Dirk shakes his head.
"Well..." she gestures vaguely, not interested enough in pursuing further compassion. "Try not to puke."
"Wait!" Dirk blurts out quickly. "The- the band playing! Who are they?"
"Mexican Funeral. Kinda new to the scene."
Dirk nods. "Well, uhm... have a splendid evening, I need to go! Bye-bye!"
"Uh... okay...?"
And, that's how Dirk gained a favourite band.
Years pass. Dirk travels to England, and attempts to adjust and connect with people. It's been unsuccessful. He also pretends his brain doesn't keep terrorising him with mental images of cute, punk musicians when he tries to sleep. He can fully admit he's lonely as shit, but not so desperate for connection that he's imagining a three second interaction is anything meaningful.
Before he left America, he did snag himself a Mexican Funeral CD, so he feels a little less weird with saying this is his favourite band. Eight songs, and he plays it in his shoddy, little flat on the rougher days. Which is most.
It's an odd comfort of his. Blasting these angry songs in his headphones, so loud that he's probably messed his ears up in the long run. Maybe it's how unapologetically angry some songs are, then how the softer sung vocals soothe Dirk from getting too wound up in his head.
(And the more raunchy songs that give Dirk a different emotion entirely. That he indulges in. Sometimes.)
It's almost embarrassing how much this CD of a band hardly anyone knows, that isn't even profound with its lyricism, helps Dirk not spin out. But he'll take the supports wherever he can- it's not like he has a friend to turn to.
He never keeps tabs on the band itself- never felt compelled. He doesn't need to know more than he already does. He doesn't need to know more than those 30-ish minutes worth of music- doesn't even know the band members' names. Sometimes he checks if they've released anything new- not that he can buy it. They aren't known in England and he's far too paranoid to order online. He can't even get a band-shirt over here.
After 2012, the band seems to stop existing. No new music. Despite being a detective, he doesn't investigate why. He has all he needs. But he does wonder. A scandal? Simple parting of ways? He'll never know.
"That's your best friend."
Well... that's a hell of thing to be told.
Now, Dirk's had fantasies about having a best friend. He's rotated some people in his mind- all different styles. But ultimately they all think he's cool and fun and they do all the things friends do. Which, Dirk only has a vague idea of entailing. He's hoping for someone who could serve as an assistant. There was Project Moloch, but he couldn't really talk back, and Mona, but he could count on one hand how many times he actually had a conversation with her, and even then they were so brief.
He wants conversation that's not one-sided, nor has to wait years for a reply. That feels like a good start to friendship.
Admittedly, the man dubbed 'best friend' is nothing like he envisioned in his fantasies. For one, the black-eye (concerning). For second, the clothes- a ratty looking fur-coat that seems to have bloodstains on it (also concerning). And finally, there's something... manic in his eyes (concerning and alarming). Is that default with the guy? Or is something else happening that's leading to high stress? Then again, there was that steampunk guy Dirk never got context for, either. But all in due time, probably.
There's more pressing matters. Dirk thinks, as he jogs down the stairs of the hotel entrance.
Namely, the Best Friend. There's a buzz of familiarity to him that makes the back of Dirk's neck prickle. Why does he know him? Why would he know him?
Well, as the Ridgely building looms near, he's about to find out.
"What are you still doing here?"
So last night didn't go so well, but Dirk's determined. Plus if he told himself they're going to be friends, then they will. Dirk's giving it another shot, because outside of that particular thrill, he still can't work out why he knows him.
The guy had no interest in taking the ride offer, until the nutty Landlord shows up and suddenly he's very interested in it. Dirk learns his name- Todd- and it rings... absolutely zero bells. Not even a singular little ding. He knows no Todds. Well, okay, he knows one now. But he feels he should've already known that.
Todd says little about himself, so Dirk can't glean much. He has a guitar (exciting!), a lot of piercings in his ears and a sister. That's it. But he certainly has questions for Dirk that Dirk's more than happy to answer. That's a good sign, right? Asking questions, getting to know each-other.
Unfortunately, Todd gives no indication that he knows Dirk, either. He isn't sure if he should be disappointed by that.
They get to the sister's house without much more conversation, and Dirk ignores Todd telling him to wait. Maybe he should've listened, but waiting in a car for over an hour is incredibly boring.
(And he heard a thump of familiar shitty music and a loud engine rev. He is not staying outside alone.)
The sister, Amanda, is very cool. He hopes she likes him, because maybe that'll help make Todd like him faster, and he'd quite like to speed up the friendship thing. He's never been great at patience. She's certainly mystified seeing him and her brother together.
"We're gonna have a jam session in the garage," Todd says, irritated. "If you wanna watch."
Dirk's not sure why he's so moody. He hopes it's not a constant with him.
"Of course, I'd love too!"
"Right." is the curt reply.
He follows Todd to the garage. Amanda settled in front of a drum-kit. Unlike the rest of the house, the garage looks lively and loved. Posters and music equipment litter the place. One poster catches Dirk's eye.
"Mexican Funeral." He blinks, surprised. "You're a fan, too?"
That's a good bonding thing. Music. However, the exchanged glances between the siblings- Amanda has a peculiar glint in her eye- that makes Dirk uneasy.
"Dude," Amanda says, and it takes Dirk a moment to realise she's addressing her brother. "You're still sleeping with your-"
"Amanda!" Todd squawks. "What the fuck?! No, I'm not!"
"But..." Amanda frowns, confused, looking between them.
"No," Todd splutters, cheeks red. He turns to Dirk. "Are you- I... you're a fan?"
"Probably not the biggest- I only own one CD- very difficult to find in England," Dirk says, uncertain of the strange reactions (but a niggle in his brain is screaming the reason). "And, I went to a concert thingy years ago... the singer was..." he trails off with a mortifying realisation as Amanda's words catch up with him.
Now he's looking at Todd, and really looking at him, he sees it. Despite the shorter hair, slightly less ear piercings. More lines on the face, with less make-up. And the eyes- that should've been the biggest giveaway. Dirk sees it.
"Y-you..." he squeaks. "You're..."
"Must not be the biggest fan if you couldn't recognise my brother, AKA the frontman for the Mexican Funeral." Amanda comments, note of pride in her voice. It fizzles out as she continues. "Or was the frontman."
"The band split?"
"Yeah, dude. Like, four years ago cause of-"
"Can we talk later?" Todd interrupts, quickly. "Let's... y'know, jam."
Amanda shoots him a curious glance, but shrugs. "Take a seat, Dirk! It's won't be total Mexican Funeral, but I'm a better drummer than theirs!"
"I don't doubt you at all." Dirk settles in the lone chair, a seed of excitement sprouting in his chest.
So, that ends on a sour note. And the radio is making it weird, which is proceeded by Dirk failing the conversation. Not that it's helped by Todd's stiff replies.
We're gonna be friends. Dirk tells himself. Somehow.
That thought is at war with the opposing one- he is sharing a car with the lead singer and guitarist of his favourite goddamn band and he's being surprisingly calm about it. Calm isn't the right word- subdued, maybe. Todd yelling at him to stay back from his sister killed any growing excitement he could've felt.
"Are you really a fan?" Todd asks, suddenly.
"Of the band that you happen to be in? Yes."
His not-quite-assistant shoots him a dirty look. "So, you're just trying to appeal to me? You're not actually--"
"No, no! I am! Really, truly. I just wasn't expecting to find the band's frontman being connected to the case!" He replies, hastily. He's starting to wonder if his mouth running faster than his legs might be the reason nobody wants to stay. But man, what a coinky-dink this is. He ploughs on before he thinks about that too deeply. "I really did go to a concert years ago, and enjoyed it. Got a CD. Cherished it deeply. I... don't own a lot of merch of anything of the like- not even a shirt. But I like the music! It was a big source of-"
comfort.
But that's a weird thing to confess to. Especially now that Dirk's realising Todd's singing was his main source of comfort for over a decade.
"- excitement." He finishes, lamely.
Todd doesn't catch the falter, or decides not to mention it. "Huh."
"Is that a good 'huh'?"
"It's nothing. Just... you don't look like the typical fan."
Dirk flashes a pleased smile. "I'm a man of surprises."
Todd's lips twitch, but doesn't reply. Dirk takes it as a bonding win anyway.
The whole band thing doesn't crop up for a few days. The case provides more and more things with each passing minute. Dirk reunites with Farah, and gets to meet Amanda again. Todd is at most lukewarm to Dirk, but Dirk knows what will happen eventually. A part of him feels a lingering sense of guilt about that. But it should be fine, right?
"You went to a concert?"
The question breaks him out of his thoughts. "Hmm?"
"You said you went to a concert?" Todd repeats, looking at him curiously.
"Goodness, I mentioned that days ago, you really do have a fantastic memory. And, yes- to answer the question."
"When...? Cause like, we never played in England. We were kinda only known in Seattle."
"Oh, it must've been... 2004? 2005? I was in the area."
"Damn, that was when we were like, new on the scene. New-new. That CD you own must be our first album. Not a lot of people own that."
A rush of smugness runs through Dirk. "Aren't I lucky?"
"I guess so." Todd laughs, strangely hollow. But, before Dirk can question, he continues. "I feel like I would've remembered you. At the concert. The ones we did were tiny."
"That long ago?" Dirk replies. Then again, he still has vivid memories of Todd that night. Even if he struggles to see that Todd with this Todd.
"You don't exactly dress like the standard fan. Unless you... uh..." Todd squirms in his seat. "unless you did back then?"
"I didn't. And," Dirk decides to take a risk. "We actually had a teeny-tiny moment that night."
"Okay, I definitely would've remembered-"
"It was brief. Extremely very brief. It stuck out to me because I don't exactly frequent such environments. When you were performing, we made eye-contact and you winked and I was quite... charmed by it."
Actually an absolute flustered wreck, because I was that lonely and starved for such attention. He does not say, because well, mortifying.
"I guess... I guess I wouldn't remember that, then. Probably run of the mill." Todd's voice has a strange quality that Dirk can't place. He doesn't press, either.
The rest of the drive to Skagit Valley is quiet.
"Hey, Dirk..."
So, big major movement in the case- pieced the machine-thingy together. Discovered the murder weapon. Bad people have died (because of the murder weapon) and they have also lost the murder weapon.
But on a more positive note- Todd considers him a friend and Dirk's chest is going to explode. He's being cool about it, though. Gotta be cool.
"Yes, Todd?"
"That jacket you're wearing... that's what you wore to the concert, isn't it?"
Dirk hasn't the foggiest. "Maybe."
"I-" Todd shifts in his seat. "I think I remember you from that night."
"Uhm..."
"Okay, gonna sound like an asshole... I don't totally remember your face, but I remember someone wearing this light blue leather jacket and it just like, stuck out so much, y'know? Everyone wears black and, at most, some neon shit in the hair or whatever. But I remember that. Then that someone vanished."
Dirk frowns, trying to gauge what Todd's getting at. "You were... interested?"
"Went into the crowd that night, trying to find you. Couldn't." Todd laughs, with that hollowness again. Dirk has a clearer understanding why he laughs like that, with what Todd confessed to him earlier. "Probably went home with someone else instead."
"What would've happened if you found me?" Dirk asks, strangely emboldened.
Todd considers his answer for a long time. "What you're already guessing- assuming you were down, too. But I was a 'hit it then ghost' kinda guy. Wouldn't have stayed. Still kinda am, but... different reasons from back then."
The words really sink in, what Todd's alluding too. Dirk flushes at the thought that he could've had an interesting night back then. Meaningless, but interesting.
"You- uhm..."
"Let's not like, dwell on it. Not right now." Todd continues, looking away. "I'm... I'm glad we met properly here. Even with the rough start."
"Mmm... I agree." Dirk replies, brightly. Things are coming together, but he knows that... well, that hotel encounter looms ever near. He understands Todd struggling to come clean after so much time passing, because he's wondering if he should've said something so much earlier. But it should be fine, right?
Dirk's never been in the business of thinking things through. Most because he's never really had to- the Universe thrusts nonsense onto him to sift through, and he tries to roll with the punches as it were. He'd made peace with not seeing Todd again, experienced the five stages of grief as he was slowly bleeding to death. The fact that, despite what transpired, Todd was even willing to stay long enough to help finish the case and save a teenage girl he didn't know, makes Dirk know that at his core, Todd is an incredibly kind person. No matter how much he'd convinced himself he isn't. Dirk would cherish that week and swallow down the sour ending.
But...
"It's a Mexican Funeral shirt. You... you said you didn't have one, so, free on the house. Try not to get shot in it."
... maybe he doesn't have to.
"Do you really only own one CD?"
"Yes, sorry I'm not stroking your ego even more than it's already getting."
"Dude!" Todd shoves him lightly, as they walk down the street to the diner. "I've been humbled plenty this week alone!"
Despite the high spirits, that makes guilt bubble in Dirk's chest. "I am sorry about that. About Amanda. I didn't know-"
"No, no, it's okay. Well, more like, I'll be fine, eventually. I needed to come clean- should've years ago. Knowing you were in my corner helped." Todd flashes him a soft smile. "So I wanna say thanks, actually. It hurts, it's probably always gonna hurt that I'm not gonna hear from Amanda for like, ever. But I got other things to focus on. I'm at the bottom, I can only go up from here on out."
"Oh, uhm... wow. Good. Fantastic. That's very inspiring." Dirk flushes. He isn't used to being thanked, or have such soft expressions directed at him. Even when he was insistent that he wears the band-shirt right this minute and Todd had to help him. He laughed, a touch awkward, but still helped wrangle it over him.
"When we see what Farah wanted to meet us up about, do you wanna listen to, uhm... to the other Mexican Funeral albums?"
"Oh, yes, please." Dirk's chest is alight with pure giddiness.
"And, there's," Todd unexpectedly blushes. "unreleased stuff, too."
"Oh?"
"Like, I recorded my own stuff. Never released. Didn't fit the vibe at all. Cause it was like, all acoustic shit."
"Todd Brotzman, I would love nothing more than to listen to what my friend made."
Todd's blush doesn't subside, if anything it appears to deepen. "Still can't get over you're a fan."
"The music gave me a lot of comfort."
"I never pegged our music as comforting- all of it was just being pissed off and nasty."
"It's weird to explain, I'd admit."
"Well, you can tell me at my place. This is where Farah wanted to meet- I can see her."
Dirk spends the next two months imagining if he was anywhere else. Preferably at Todd's place, listening to music. Maybe even possibly elaborating on what could've happened that night, back then.
No, he shouldn't think about it. He plays the music in his head to pass the time, letting the rage do its job in letting the fury bloom in his chest, rather than letting it soothe. He was scared as a child, and angry as an adult. He hates Blackwing. Everything about it. They'll never hate him as much as he despises them.
He misses Todd and Farah terribly. They taunt his dreams, especially Todd. Sometimes he marches in them, in a tight leather bodysuit, brandishing a crossbow that makes Dirk wish he could be brave like him. Other times, it's that different kind of leather, mixed with denim. All spikes and smoke and waltzing up to Dirk with that same sly smile. All beautiful and perfect and unobtainable.
Dirk hates it. Hates what he can't have, what he's never going to be able to have.
But, naturally, the Universe likes throwing complete piss-takes at him, he has water thrown at him and then is trapped in some dark, confined space. Panic grips his throat, as he kicks and thrashes. He tumbles out of wherever he was, to the outside world. One he hadn't seen in two months. And his two friends. Right there.
Dirk wonders if this is another dream, until Todd launches himself into Dirk's arms. This warmth can't be an illusion, as he hugs back tight.
The reunion gets interrupted, but it's okay, because Dirk's just happy getting to interact people face-to-face, instead of through mirrors and intercoms and bullshit tests. The good things can never just last, though. His friends are in a dire situation and it's difficult to not think he's the reason they're being punished, because of the irredeemable crime of being friends with him.
A hardened shell forms around him, crawling up his body like thick vines. He can see Todd claw at them, and sometimes he hits the right angle and the sun flashes inside that Dirk yearns to get closer to. But he won't, because it'll hurt everyone else, so the vines grow back as quick as they're destroyed.
This, somehow, has not deterred Todd in the slightest. He still looks at him with soft eyes and warm smiles. Eager to help, be the perfect assistant that Dirk had always wanted. But his rotted ways have infected him.
"Dirk? You still awake?" Todd's voice is quiet in the gloom of night.
Dirk doesn't reply, hoping he's buried too deep in the blanket nest that Todd believes he's well into dreamland. He doesn't want a conversation. He doesn't want to be told again that he'll be okay, that it'll all be fine.
"Dirk? ... no, sorry, I shouldn't-"
"I'm awake." He replies, more out of guilt than anything. Todd might actually need something. He might be having an attack- Dirk hasn't seen him have one, but it being a looming development in Todd's life makes Dirk want to sink away far from Todd so he can't ruin him further.
"Sorry." Todd repeats.
"It's fine." He replies, tersely. "Is something the matter?"
He knows his stiff tone has stung Todd, but he finds it a struggle to care.
"It's just... I really missed you and I'm... I'm really glad you're here. Really."
A tiny shimmer of sunlight. Dirk lifts his head. "I missed you too. A lot. Blackwing was... it was boring without you. Boring, in general."
"Sounds strict as hell."
Putting it lightly. "Oh, it was. No fun. Bland tests. No music."
"My personal nightmare." Todd shudders. "They'd hate Mexican Funeral."
"Rebellious punk music? That's their personal nightmare."
Todd laughs. Quiet, but joyful. It makes Dirk's chest hurt.
"Hey," Todd says. "weird question but, what did you mean when you said the music was a comfort?"
"You remember that?"
"I... thought about it a lot." he admits. "And, I wanna know, if that's okay?"
Dirk doesn't respond for a long while, almost bitter with how hopeful and curious Todd sounds. He knows why, but he's not sure how to say it. And, he's not sure if he's ready to say it. Not right now.
"I don't know how to explain it." He settles on.
"Oh," Todd tries to hide his disappointment. "I get it."
"We should sleep. The prophecy we were told is something that I imagine would require a lot of rest."
"Yeah, alright. Night, Dirk. Sleep well."
Dirk doesn't sleep, but he hears Todd's breath even out after some time. He wiggles out of his blanket nest, and pads to the couch. He had to push for Todd to take the couch- he doesn't know exactly how pararibulitis works, but he imagines that sleeping on the floor wouldn't help. Anything to attempt to alleviate the guilt.
In the dark, Todd's features aren't relaxed, but the usual knit of worry is smoothed out. He looks tired. Is this the first decent sleeping arrangement he's had? Blackwing, for all it's terribleness, was at least stationary. Consistent, if uncomfortable, bed. No sleeping in cars, or worrying for weather conditions.
He should never have dragged Todd into his world. He looks so far away from the Todd in his memory.
"Give me like, fifteen minutes." Todd says, slightly huffy. "Like I said, if I'm going to a concert I am not wearing this shit."
"Trust me, dude- there'll be something. Most of this crap is from the Sound of Nothing from forever ago." Tina grins.
"How are people losing entire outfits?"
"Dude."
"Yeah, yeah... I connected the dots."
Todd vanishes into a room, the one where Dirk's pretty sure he had fashioned himself an outfit a few days ago. He probably should've cleaned that up now that he thinks about it. Oh, well. Another shitty thing he can add to his list of 'things he feels like shit about'.
The minutes tick by...
"What is he doing?" Farah says. Her arms are folded, but Dirk can see her index finger tap-tap-tapping away from her growing anxiety. "We don't really have time..."
"Probably tryna find something that matches his alt-scene. Which... yeah. Good luck, bud."
"I'll fetch him." Dirk offers, mostly to have a ten second respite. He's struggling to deal with people.
And you think going to a concert full of people is going to help with that? A thought sneers.
He went to a concert overwhelmed before and came out mostly unscathed. Maybe this change of pace will do his brain good. That's what he's convincing himself, anyway.
"Todd?" He knocks on the door. "It's been a little over a fifteen minutes...."
"Right, shit, sorry! Coming out now!"
Todd makes less of a grandiose entrance, and more of an awkward stumble out the door, embarrassment apparent.
"Sorry!" He repeats. "Nothing was really fitting..."
Dirk gives Todd a once-over and ultimately decides that he is so full of shit, because those hideously patterned jeans are incredibly fitted. The shirt is fine, and Todd clearly put in effort in styling the look with suspenders and a belt.
He looks nothing like he did at That Concert, but...
Dirk can admit his feelings have not changed. If anything, Todd is making everything so goddamn worse.
"Dude... uh..."
"You look fine!" Dirk says, hastily. "It's... different, but that's not bad."
"I wish they had something more my style. Guess people aren't losing ripped jeans that often. I doubt this is a punk scene, anyway."
"A pity." Dirk agrees without really thinking. "You looked... uhm. Well, you looked, back then."
Todd gives him a look from that. "You definitely doing okay?"
"I'll be fine when I get there. Let's go."
"Alright. For the record, though, I wanna say that I think this is dumb." Todd says, letting Dirk tug his wrist.
"I thought you'd be most excited for this." Dirk replies, frowning.
"Why?"
"It's... a concert... festival thingy. That's your whole thing I thought."
Todd shrugs. "I don't really get why we're doing this. The hospital, or the boat, makes more sense. But, I mean, I got outvoted."
"That'll be the next step. This won't be waste of time."
"I bet it will be."
It wasn't.
Well, looking back, Dirk will say it will be. From the sheer fact he knows deep down, he will despise himself in the aftermath. But right now, he's so out of his damn mind that he couldn't give less of a shit even if he tried. Pure, unadulterated ecstasy.
He doesn't remember making it back to the station. Doesn't remember having his jacket shoved roughly off his shoulders. The buttons of his shirt being popped open in frantic need, his jeans being stripped off. But he remembers Todd kissing his neck, teeth scraping the skin. Hands roaming all over his body, completely unashamed.
Dirk should reject the touch- that's what he's been doing the past week. He should be embarrassed- they aren't private. Everyone in the station can see them. Nobody cares, including Dirk. He's needy and wants it to be indulged. Luckily, Todd very much wants to indulge.
"Hey, Dirk." He murmurs, after running his tongue up Dirk's neck. "'member when we first met? The old concert?"
Dirk squirms in Todd's hold, looping his arms around his neck for balance. "Y-yeah...?" He can barely focus on the words.
"If you stayed that night, and I got to find you," Todd continues, pushing Dirk backwards. Dirk lets him. "what I wanted to do..."
Dirk finds himself getting pushed up onto a desk. Instinctively, he wraps his legs around Todd's waist. The last part of his brain that has maintained coherency wants to be sassy, to snark that there were no desks to be shoved onto. But it makes his brain think of being pinned against a wall, or shoved down to his knees instead.
Dirk pulls back just slightly, dizzy and panting. Todd's attire is nothing like back then. Too bright; a stark contrast to the smokey darkness. But he sees him. The heavy-lidded grin, the trouble he knows he's causing. He might be Dirk's assistant, but Dirk only wants to be his and nothing else.
Todd dives forward again, catching his lips. Tongue piercing clacking against Dirk's teeth, as Todd wastes no time deepening the kiss. Dirk moans, letting Todd run the show.
Their bodies get pressed flushed together. Dirk can feel eyes on them, but doesn't care. Smugness rolls off of Todd, making Dirk wonder of this is what he was like back then.
"We would have done this? Back then?" He asks, when Todd decides to go back to his neck and collarbones. Hands slide under his vest.
"Done more."
"And then ghost."
"Huh..." Todd pulls back this time, gaze hazy with confusion.
"You told me... you don't stay."
He smiles. "Cause I was bad and lame back then. Won't ghost, not for you. I'm staying."
The coherent part of him holds firm. "Another time. Too many eyes." He says, softly. Playing with the glow-sticks he'd hung around his neck.
The hands slide back out under his shirt, so they can cup his face instead. "Can we still kiss?"
The reply comes with Dirk re-closing the gap.
Now, Dirk knew- he knew- that it was all temporary. Anything said that night was drenched in a sweet syrup of pink shapes and nonsense. He watches Todd stomp away- frustration rolling off of him in waves.
Dirk's angry. Not at Todd- he can't get mad at someone doing exactly what he wanted from the start. Todd reached, cut through the vines, whilst Dirk let himself be ensnared. Vines wrapped around his ankles, dragging him back down. If anything, Todd has every reason to shove him back in return. He didn't. simply choosing to find his sister and the boy. He didn't even raise his voice. That's more kindness than Dirk deserves. And, Dirk quit being a detective- what's an assistant without anyone to assist?
Riggins was right. Dirk thinks, bitterly. So is...
He doesn't want to think about him.
He's not a detective. He'll live out his days wherever this is-
- Wendimoor. Dirk's not stupid- he knew Todd was right about most strange things that had been happening. He knew they're connected- even if Dirk's not sure how. But it's safer to let him doubt himself so much that he respects himself enough to leave-
- and have puppies with this weirdo elf creature, because that's his life now and he might as well come to terms with that development.
They probably don't even have Mexican Funeral over here.
"I knew you'd show up!" Todd exclaims, smile threatening to break his face.
"You did?"
"I accepted it as a possibility, yeah."
The statement is said so easily, as if Todd was never even upset when he left; that he never ever lost faith in him. That thought has warmth bloom in Dirk's chest, made warmer by being swept up in a hug by the two Brotzman siblings.
Things might be looking up now. The heat of sunlight is beginning to pierce through.
"Don't spin out." Todd says, words soft but firm. "You can do this." He's holding Dirk's wrists, giving them a gentle squeeze.
Dirk holds onto that touch as his only tether from stopping him getting whisked away. The sun is there, right in front of him. He can't let the dark drown him and win. Not this time.
He nods, tired and scared. A carefully crafted mask that he knows the siblings can see right through. They're risking a lot for this world that hadn't been kind to them. Because it's important. Because that's what matters. Friends being there for you, too.
He won't let them down.
It's all a blur, to which Dirk is oddly grateful. The gunshots, the near-dying for everyone dragged into this mess. Learning that Blackwing is probably going to be an even bigger headache in the future for reasons that aren't 'the boss is an idiot' and now 'the boss is terrifyingly smart' are things Dirk simply does not want to think about anymore than he really needs to. For now, at least.
Let's live in the moment. Tearful, yet forgiving goodbyes and new beginnings. A dirty van drives away, as Todd leans back against their own shiny new van.
"I know my sister bought up that we've got our thing, but what is the game plan?" He asks.
"What do you mean?"
"You did quit the detective for a moment." Todd points out. "I know things are okay now, but I just wanna be sure..."
Dirk blushes from guilt. "I'm sorry. For what I said back there, I mean."
"You had a shit week, dude. A shit two months. Like, I wouldn't have been a ray of sunshine, either."
But you are. Dirk doesn't say, vines dead and withered at his feet. "Let's agree that it was a mixed bag of emotions and yes, of course, Todd, it'll mean everything to me if you agree to be my assistant."
"Easy yes." Todd says.
"Fantastic!" Dirk says, extra chirpy because the blush is threatening to get deeper.
They- Dirk, Todd and Farah- spend a fair amount of time in Bergsberg. Dirk and Farah are nursing gunshot wounds and Todd really shouldn't be driving, technically speaking. It's a long drive- though they plan on taking it slow and stopping for one night.
They book two rooms at a nice hotel- Farah, though values practicality, voices how sick of motels and sleeping in cars she is. The guys say they're goodnights to her, before retiring into their own room. Two decent-sized beds greet them, and Dirk flushes at the unexpected buzz of disappointment.
"Man, Farah's right. This beats the motels." Todd says, dumping his overnight bag on a bed. He rolls his shoulders with a sigh. "My body won't be mad at me for once."
"Are you okay?"
"Stiff from the car ride. And, y'know..."
Dirk winces. Todd didn't have an attack in the amboolents, surprisingly. But they all knew he was especially uncomfortable the whole time. Holding himself rigid and not bringing the usually good conversation for most the journey.
"Hey," Todd continues, touching Dirk's arm. "I took my meds and, if I get an attack- it happens. It'll always be a thing now. I know what to do, so does Farah and now, so do you."
"Doesn't mean I like it."
"Nobody does. But it is what it is. D'you wanna shower first?"
Dirk allows the obvious subject change. "Yes, please. But... I- shit- I don't think I have a change of clothes."
He's really at rock bottom again. Clothes on his back and nothing else... here we are again, indeed.
"Borrow something of mine, man." Todd says, unzipping the overnight bag. "Like- where is- aha! Here."
A Mexican Funeral shirt. Very worn from how faded the black is.
"I-"
"Keep it." Todd says, also fishing out a pair of his own boxers (which Dirk is not blushing about) for him to wear, too. "I... I know you don't have the one I gave you anymore."
"I can't just-"
"Dude, I want you to have it. So, take it."
Dirk does, and he's quick to get into the shower. Standing under the spray and finally getting a good, rich clean for the first time in months. Blackwing wasn't unhygienic (mostly), but comfort was hardly a priority. He wants to stay here forever, but that's not fair on Todd, so he begrudgingly leaves.
He can't help but run his hands over the fabric of the band-shirt. It's clearly what Todd uses for sleepwear and it makes it strangely intimate for Dirk.
He exits the bathroom to Todd lounging on one of the beds and, maybe his brain is playing tricks, but he doesn't miss the way his eyes trail down his body. Todd scurries off to the bathroom before he can comment on it.
Although it's not late, both men are tired, so they're quickly settled under the covers when Todd gets out the shower. Dirk's not tired in a way that warrants sleep just yet, so he's letting his mind drift idly through a spectrum of thoughts, indecisive to which one to expand on for daydreaming purposes.
"You still awake?" Todd asks.
"Mmhmm. What is it?"
"Glad I met you. Properly."
"It's a very shared feeling. I'm glad I know you and not just-" he gestures vaguely. "The show-you."
"You don't like my performing?" The tone is teasing, but Dirk hears that underlying confusion.
"I do. A lot." More than you can comprehend. "But I like you as this person who cares and helps even when he didn't have to, or doesn't benefit from. You on stage is a very fun bonus."
"Huh. Wow." Todd says, stunned. It makes Dirk wonder if he made it a touch too weird now. "Thanks for seeing a me that's worth something."
"You mean all of you? Even the parts you don't like- you did show them to me, so they matter."
"Then... thanks for staying."
"Thanks for staying." Dirk echoes. "Really."
In the dark, Dirk can make out Todd's face doing a complicated thing, as if wanting to say something, but deciding against it. Instead;
"We should sleep. Farah says the rest of journey will be about three hours. Not a lot compared to today, but I'm dreading it."
"Hard, hard agree. Goodnight, Todd."
"Night."
As predicted, the remaining journey is uncomfortable. Todd ends up having a minor attack and spends the last hour dozing off, whilst Dirk and Farah quietly discuss agency plans. But finally, they make back to Seattle and to the Ridgely.
"How the hell was nothing stolen?" Todd says, stepping inside his apartment. "There's not even a lock."
"The-" Dirk begins.
"Don't give me 'The Universe' shit. A 'coinky-dink' only goes so far and you know it."
"Well, are you complaining?" Farah asks, amused.
"No, hell no. My guitar is here. All my records and cassettes. It's great!"
"We're still moving." Farah continues. "No offense, Todd. This place is shit."
"Oh, trust me I want to go. I'll start packing now, if you want."
"It'll speed up the process. But tomorrow. Let's just... have a lazy day today."
"I never expected those words coming from you!"
"Shut up!"
Dirk lets them bicker. His mind is whirring with excitement, glancing out the window at the sunny skies. Things are okay. Better than okay! It's all coming together, it's all becoming real.
"Dirk, you good?"
"More than good!" He says, twirling around. "Bloody brilliant! I need to nip to my own place and see what I can salvage from it, but-!"
He sweeps his two favourite people into a hug. "I feel so happy!"
Everything falls into place so, so easily that it could be a blink-and-you'll-miss-it kind of deal. Because Dirk can barely recall anything aside from pure exhilaration. The Agency gets chosen, the trio find a suitable apartment complex- one-bedroom for Farah, and two-bedroom for Dirk and Todd. It takes Todd the longest to unpack, on account of being the only one with anything to really unpack (and being mindful he's in a shared space now). The three of them have many shopping trips over the following days.
But, they settle down. Cases happen with all the ups and downs that come with them. They work themselves out. Sometimes Dirk wonders if it's still a dream, often pinching himself.
Now the rhythm is there and Dirk finally has a chance at some downtime- not complaining about the work, but it's nice to relax. He's lounging in his room- his room, customised perfectly to his own liking! - when he gets a knock on the door.
"Yes?"
Todd pokes his head in. "Is it a weird time?"
Dirk sits up. That statement rarely bodes well.
"What is it?"
His assistant grins, holding out a couple of CDs. "I promised you forever ago, so... weird time?"
With a frenzied scramble off the bed, Dirk bounces in front of him. "Nope! Perfectly normal! And-" he darts for his bedside drawer. "I still have my CD! I haven't had a chance to listen for ages!"
"You still have it?"
"Obviously!" It was one of the few things he took from the Ridgely. The rest were clothes he wasn't attached to. He needs to rebuild his jacket collection.
They sit on the floor, backs against the couch- cause it's cooler, according to Todd. The albums Dirk hasn't heard are played first.
"Man," Todd hums, after the second song. "it's weird listening to myself."
"You don't listen to your own music?"
He snorts. "I'm not that full of myself."
"Really?"
"Shut up, Dirk."
"It was mostly not a jab. You should be proud of your stuff- it's a 60-40% compliment-jab ratio." Dirk says, with a nudge. "I love your singing and guitar-ing. I'd love another liveshow..."
"Th- thanks...!" Todd stammers. "Do you wanna- uhm... there's the acoustic stuff too, if you want?"
"Yes, please!"
Turns out, they aren't on any album. Just tracks Todd saved onto a USB years ago, that he shoved under a pile of junk in a drawer. How it survived is a mystery Dirk needs no answer for.
"I would say it's Mexican Funeral doing acoustic covers, but it's actually not," Todd hurriedly explains, plugging the USB into his barely used laptop. "It was me. Like, by myself. And I wasn't like, pulling out an acoustic guitar and playing 'Wonderwall', don't worry."
"Todd," Dirk says, gently. "I'm sure what you've done is lovely."
"Yeah, yeah, okay- uhm- here we go."
Dirk doesn't know what he was expecting. The audio quality is not great- Todd probably recorded it himself on some cheap recorder- after each the song ends there's muffled muttering and a clatter of background noise unedited out. But something about Todd's playing- an unexpected gentleness- combined with his singing (that Dirk, even to his untrained ear, knows isn't very 'polished' to begin with) makes the whole experience have a level of intimacy he can't explain. Like a fragile bubble he's terrified to accidentally pop.
"Wow..." Dirk breathes. Unidentified emotions flood his chest. He hopes it's not obvious that his eyes are tearing up slightly. He doesn't know why.
"... good wow?"
"Yes, very." Their voices are quiet. Raising them would ruin whatever this is. "Why weren't these...?"
"Didn't match the vibes, didn't involve the rest of the band- there were already rumours that I was pulling away... and, I dunno, didn't feel right. You're the only other person who's ever heard them. Not even Amanda knows about them."
"They're beautiful, Todd." Dirk says, touched. "Thank you for sharing them with me."
Todd shifts his legs, restless. "... let's- wanna listen to the original album now?"
The albums that Dirk never listened to before are nice- fantastic, actually- and the acoustic tracks have become new pieces of his soul now, but when Todd plays the original album, a tingle runs down his spine. He flops his head back onto the couch, letting the music wash over him. The scratchy vocals and angry melodies shouldn't calm him the way they do. He remembers all the lyrics.
"You asked me why this was a comfort to me, remember that?" He asks, mind floaty with relaxed joy, as the last song fades out.
"Yeah, you said you couldn't explain it."
"It's weird to explain."
"I love weird." Todd says, matching his pose. That soft smile on his face that Dirk has a sudden urge to kiss. "I like being your assistant for a reason, y'know."
He isn't blushing. It's just warm in here. "Well," he coughs. "I was, well... I was- still am, probably, years worth of suitcases to unpack in that regard- but I was angry. Lots of anger. Could've bottled it up and sold them all for millions, to be quite honest."
"Dirk-"
"No, no, it ends good. The music- your music- is angry. It let me be angry and be okay with it. Blackwing hates all that. Anger is punishment, crying is punishment. Disagreeing is punishment. This music, it's a small thing, didn't punish me."
Todd squeezes his hand, thumb gently stroking a patch of skin. "That's so... shit, man. I'm glad I- I helped, even if I didn't know it. Like, holy-"
"I'm okay," feeling a little bold, despite spilling his soul, he presses his shoulder against Todd's. "I really am."
Cause of you. You have no idea how much I-
"Should we talk about it?"
"I don't-"
"No, not Blackwing. That's an 'if you wanna talk about it' kinda thing." Todd looks uncomfortable. "I just mean... us?"
"Us?"
"From years ago and like, the Sound of Nothing. I remember and I know you do..."
Dirk is suddenly very hot all over. "What part do we talk about?"
Todd's eyes roam over him. They're still holding hands.
"If it means more than a love spell or a one-time thing."
Dirk swallows, wetting his lips. Todd's gaze is sharp on the movements, watching the bob of his throat, the tongue peeking out. "Yes, you idiot, of cour- mmmph!"
He's cut off by Todd slamming their mouths together. Aside from a little surprised noise, Dirk immediately sinks into it, wrapping his arms around Todd's neck. Grinning as he feels that familiar tongue piercing click against his teeth.
He lets Todd push him down onto the floor and climb on top of him, barely biting back a groan as Todd slides a thigh between his legs. Dirk runs his hands through Todd's hair, before tugging sharply. Getting his own groan in response.
Unfortunately, they eventually need to breathe.
"Hey." Todd says, bracing himself on his forearms. He's flush and dishevelled, pupils blown wide. Dirk has no idea how to handle the sight aside from squeezing his thighs around Todd's waist.
"Hello." He replies, panting.
"I'm guessing... I'm guessing good?"
"Yes, definitely, completely-"
"Not too much?"
"Darling, look at me," Dirk roughly grabs Todd's face, holding him firm. "If you don't show me exactly what you wanted to do to me back then, I'm calling you my boyfriend just so I can break up with you."
Todd pauses, but then a wicked, wicked grin spreads over his face.
After round one, they gain enough coherency in their brains to move to Todd's bedroom for another round. Dirk deems Todd completely successful at showing him his plan from way back then, so the threat of a break-up has been diminished.
Todd himself is half-flopped on Dirk, legs tangled together. His face is smushed against Dirk's chest, but Dirk knows he's feeling incredibly satisfied with himself.
"Mmm..." Todd murmurs, pressing kisses up Dirk's chest, neck, until he catches his lips. "Worth the wait?"
"You just want your ego rubbed."
"Well, I've learned you're already really good at rubbing-"
"Todd, the break-up threat will come back."
"Does that mean make-up sex afterwards?"
"Todd!"
Todd laughs, sitting up. "I'm just playing, but the question is serious. It was worth it? We're, y'know, okay? And good?"
"Yes. A million percent."
"Good. Cause I'm staying- you got me for the long haul."
Dirk laughs himself, pulling Todd back down to kiss. "Exactly how I want it."