Oh my gog. Why the fuck didn't you tell me how shitty this came up the first time I posted it? I just started rereading all of my old stories for some inspiration for another one shot. Then I read the original version of this to find that it was bolded the wrong way and everything in quotation marks disappeared. I can't believe I didn't notice this sooner. -_-" But it's okay; I'll fix it right now.
The revised version starts... Now!
Dirk's POV
You are now Dirk Strider. You're currently tinkering on a small robot without any clear goal. You look up at the sound of approaching footsteps to see Dave holding an orange cap and a step stool.
When he's within decent hearing range, you say "Sup?" and artfully raise an eyebrow (it took you hours in front of the mirror looking like an idiot to figure out how to do it).
"Y'know. Same old, same old. Hey, do you think you could stand on this stepstool and wear this hat? It won't take that long. Then you can get back to... Whatever the heck it is that you're making this time."
"Why?"
He sets the step stool down in front of you. He shifts ever so slightly from one foot to the other. Most people wouldn't notice something as miniscule as that, but his reactions are so similar to your's that it would be ridiculous if you didn't notice stuff like that. You see right through his infamous "cool kid act" right to seeing his discomfort.
He pulls you from your thoughts on his peculiar behavior. "Man, does it really matter that much what the reason is? Is it really so much for a guy to ask someone to stand in a certain spot wearing a certain hat?" He starts to ramble.
You roll your eyes and go back to the robot you were working on, only occasionally glancing up.
His rambling comes to an abrupt end. You look up to find that he has taken his shades off.
You know what this means: it's time to be serious. You had made this silent agreement that if one of you took off your shades, the other would too.
You take off your shades and step onto the step stool without complaint. Dave stands on his tiptoes and puts the cap on your head.
All of a sudden, he's hugging you, burying his face into his chest. You awkwardly leave your arms at your sides for a moment before processing what he's doing. Then, you wrap your arms around him as comfortingly as you can. Looking down on Dave, you can see that he's at his most vulnerable and, somehow, his most content.
After a minute or two of only slightly awkward silence, you find yourself asking, "So do I get a turn or is this a one-sided thing?"
He looks surprised for a millisecond before releasing his sei-tight grasp around your torso and stepping back so that you could get down. He steps up onto the stool. You take off the hat (which has completely ruined your perfectly styled hair) and throw it to the side. Then you hug him just the way he hugged you.
You find yourself releasing a sigh of anxiety you hadn't realized you had been holding in the first place. You close our eyes and imagine yourself in the strong, caring embrace of your dad. For the first time in a long time you close your eyes and pretend that everything is okay.