Chapter Text
Evan held the door open to Dwight. The home wasn’t as comforting as it used to be. Dirty air curtained by streams of light was almost oppressive at this point. He wasn’t safe here anymore. Michael got in, so could anybody else. Dwight didn’t like that thought of any of the other killers having access to his house. But that kind of thinking was wrong. It wasn’t even his house in the first place.
“Thank you,” Dwight replied as he crossed the threshold and entered into the large entertainment room.
Even though he had done a top to bottom cleaning job mere hours ago, it was still untidy. Windows were ajar, curtains blowing with cool breezes as if someone had trampled through. Dwight could clean later, and Evan had pretty much told him he was fine with whatever cleaning done so it didn’t seem like a huge issue. And Dwight was glad, for he had expected a more negative reaction to all of this as if it was his fault for leaving windows open or something like that. Even wasn’t vocalizing it, at the very least.
With a grimace, Evan removed his mask and hung it up by the door. Dwight’s stomach fluttered. He had listened. To an extent, it made Dwight happy because he felt as if his voice had been heard, felt as if they were true equals. Evan had acknowledged the fact that the mask made Dwight uncomfortable, and was catering to his issues. Evan cared.
Dwight gazed up at the light fixture hanging from the ceiling.
Strong arms circled around him from behind.
“I know you’re afraid, boy, but I’m here for you, alright? Just don’t put yourself in danger like that.”
Dwight nodded, melting into the touch. He was pathetic, he knew that, for falling into Evan’s arms so eagerly. But really, what else could he do? What else was reasonable in this situation? He couldn’t run away, given the lurkers of this realm, so all he could do was hunker down and pray for the best. Pray for the storm to pass. Michael would be after him again, he knew it, like a sickness creeping up on a patient presenting asymptomatic.
“Alright, Evan. What do we do now?”
A soft chuckle while a large finger curled through Dwight’s hair.
“Well, for one, You can clean up whatever mess that window-licker made. C’mon, show me where everything happened.”
Dwight paused. He didn’t want to go back to the scene of the crime. Pathetic. He went anyway. Too many trials that were leagues worse to get upset over something as little as this. Besides, had this been a trial, he would’ve run the killer around for ages. That’s exactly what he had done to Michael too, the man hadn’t even gotten a swing in on him.
They found themselves primarily in front of the laundry room, where everything had gone bad. The room was surprisingly quiet, no dark buzzing atmosphere like he was used to in the realms. There’d always be that one dark spot, one place on the map where something bad happened. Cowtree, blood lodge, meat room, etc. Always that one spot that sent shivers down his spine. This laundry room would probably end up as one of those locales. Shaking it off, Dwight went into autopilot and began jiggling the knob. Pushing the door forward, it opened but hit something with a thunk. Dwight paused, that had been the furniture he used as a barricade. It wasn’t completely blocked since Michael had pushed it aside, but the crack was only small enough for a skinnier person to pass through.
“Well, Dwight, I gotta say you do think with yer head at least. Probably that cunning survivor mindset of yours.”
Another hand ruffled at his hair. Dwight pushed up into the touch. In that moment of contact, his quivering heart stabilized.
This turn of events was not displeasing, but it was also discomforting. This level of affection was not accustomed to Dwight, even from Evan. Understandable though, given the circumstances. Perhaps, Dwight thought, Evan had been just as scared of losing him. This would make sense, then, and explain the sudden closeness and affection. Dwight could use this to further his bond with Evan, solidifying his place in the household. It felt wrong though, manipulative. But it wasn’t as if he didn’t want the man anyway.
“Thanks, it’s just like throwing a pallet down.”
But it wasn’t, pallets were much lighter. Dwight’s biceps ached from the pure exertion required to move furniture of that caliber.
“Can’t say I love pallets, but man do I like ya.”
Close to saying, love. Too close to saying love. Dwight didn’t immediately react, perhaps it had been an accident. The use of like was purposeful, perhaps Evan had caught himself before speaking. Dwight breathed in, points for him at the very least. But he didn’t love the man, the killer, not truly. Not yet, anyway.
“Well then, I like ya too.”
Going in for a big hug, Dwight wrapped himself around Evan’s torso. It was probably the best way to express his emotions and general longing. Just a hug, nothing more. The way Dwight barely reached Evan’s chest was comedic in a way that embarrassed him. Evan didn’t tease him for that, which he probably wouldn’t have minded anyway.
“Enough, you’ll make me weak. C’mon now, get through that door and use that strength of yours to push the furniture aside. Need access to this room, after all.”
With a gentle laugh, Dwight squeezed through the opening and exhaled. Tight squeezes were never his favorite, but the safety of lockers had conditioned away his claustrophobia. Popping out through the blockade, he waved at Evan from the other side.
“Yeah, you definitely need access to this laundry room.”
Teasingly, Dwight wafted his hands towards his nose.
“Hrmph, won’t have you telling me nothing like that when ya does the same thing. You survivors like to wear blood to show off, right?”
Parallels, there were always parallels. Dwight blushed.
“Well, it’s still gross!”
Dwight strained against the furniture as he tried to clear passage for the door to open.
“You’re only gettin cocky like that since there’s a door between us, huh Dwight?”
Laughing at the tease, he gave the furniture another hefty push. It budged, somewhat. A few more inches and Evan would probably be able to reach an arm through enough to clear the way entirely.
“Well, maybe. Won’t be between us for long.”
Evan’s voice dropped deeper.
“Good, ain’t nothing keeping us apart.”
With that, Evan snaked a hand around the door and grabbed the molding of the furniture. Surprisingly, he inched the door forward just enough to give him the torque required to leverage the furniture out of the way. Once it gave an inch, it gave a mile as the door opened effortlessly. Dwight went in for another greedy hug after The Trapper squeezed through.
“Sorry for hugging you a lot, it’s just that… I don’t know.”
“Doesn’t matter to me, y’know, I don’t mind a bit of human contact either.”
Letting go of the man, Dwight wiped some of Evan’s grime that had transferred to his shirt.
“New rule, when we’re hanging out you change into new clothes, alright?”
Evan guffawed and slid the furniture against the wall back where it should have been. He ran a finger along the marked-up walls. His voice was irritated somewhat.
“Don’t tell me what to do.” Evan almost snapped, voice more of a warning.
Dwight flinched, Evan’s tone sending goosebumps along his skin. In place, he quivered, hopefully, to subtly for his keeper to notice. Dwight wasn't afraid of Evan, absolutely not.
Evan slowly reached out his hand towards Dwight’s face. Dwight resisted the urge to avoid the contact altogether, which would likely have a negative outcome. The hand wrapped around Dwight’s jaw and guided his gaze into Evan’s.
“Sorry, dear, old habits die hard. I’m just old-fashioned, that’s all.”
The explanation didn’t really make sense to Dwight, who was honestly quite thankful that hand didn’t reach to strike him.
“Alright, gotchya.” Nothing more to be said.
Evan released Dwight’s head from his grasp and smoothed his fingers along the scuff marks on the wall.
“Really tore this place a new one, you two. Don’t mind a bit though, since y’a protect y’erself and what not.”
Immediately embarrassed, Dwight assessed the damage on the walls himself. If he could find some kind of paint or putty, he could probably fill in the topographical damage, but he wouldn’t know how to match the hue and color correct the black marks. This mansion had probably taken a lot of work, he had to do something after all.
“There’s got to be something I can do to help you clean out, huh Evan?”
It was weird using The Trapper’s name, as if he knew the guy personally. It had only been a few days, he needed to gain some perspective.
The killer in question tapped his chin.
“I already had plans for you, but I appreciate your enthusiasm, That will get you far, in my household. One thing you can do that I haven’t exactly planned? Promise ya won’t overwork yerself thinkin’ it’ll forgive any wrong you think y’ahve committed? That’s what I want ya to do for now.”
Dwight wasn’t sure what exactly doing that implied, but his complicity came first, so did apologizing and forgiveness. This was his home now. If anything happened to it, the fog would be his only retreat.
“Alright, I’ll be careful. Don’t wanna aggravate any sore muscles I guess.”
The hand on Dwight’s shoulder dipped lower, wrapping around his waist in that familiar manner that made his abdomen glimmer with arousal. Not the fucking time Dwight, he was supposed to be searching for forgiveness, not social ostracization and expulsion from this very traditional home. Way behind his times anyway.
“More so your thinking health too, or is that the right word? Dr. Herman tried to teach me a few things about that, especially with word of what was happening in regards to my reward. Communication is… important? Yes, that’s what he says. I know your body is aching at the very least, but how is your brain feeling?”
The answer that gave it all away was Dwight’s exhausted sigh.
“I-- Not the greatest, I could really be better right now.”
Almost like a vice, Evan tightened his grip once more. For the briefest moment Dwight considered wiggling, but he held that thought. Wiggling would get him nowhere, he wasn’t going to get hooked. Regardless of the man’s clearly positive demeanor towards him, he knew that he couldn’t quite let his guard down. Almost, in a way, more romantically than anything. He knew what the man was asking for even if implicitly, and Dwight was frankly honestly happy to return it even if with some level of paranoia beneath his skin.
Evan began swaying on his feet with Dwight in tow, almost slow dancing in a way that was much less active and so much more intimate.
“Hey, Dwight.”
Dwight looked up into Evan’s eyes.
“Mhm?”
Evan craned his neck to reach for Dwight’s neck with his lips. No contact that lingered, but a simple yet tantalizing peck to his neck. It gave Dwight a lot to think about in the coming seconds, minutes and days. For one, the issue of his erection would prove difficult. Second of all was what he’d say to that, and third of all, was that he wanted that to happen again. From what little Dwight knew of the man, Evan was straight-edge. Sure, even that peck was above and beyond what level of affection Dwight ever expected from the man. That was a sign from a man who wanted more, but wasn’t sure how far he was willing to go.
“There you go, bunny, how’re you feeling now?”
Extremely erect, for one. Hot, for the most part too. Evan couldn’t notice, could he? Not under his pants, its bagginess and ruffles finally did something good for him other than getting caught in a generator and blowing it up.. Sweat beaded on his brow. Dwight couldn’t let his dick ruin things for him. Even if the peck of Evan’s lips were not more than a promise for future intimacy, he couldn’t lie and say it drove him wild enough to temporarily forget about the anxieties that threatened to spiral and spiral and spiral. Evan was his ship in the whirlpool, the only one with an anchor that would keep him afloat above the rapids.
Together they could ride out the storm, regardless of how embarrassing that idea proved to be. Dwight was sure the hulking mad had issues of his own to deal with too, everybody had a therapist in Dwight’s timeline. Dwight had to wonder if half the coping mechanisms were working, but couldn’t deny that they were helping at the very least.
“Great, thank you, Evan.”
Dwight smiled up at the man with the gored body, terrifying form if out of context. It didn’t matter though, Dwight wanted him all the same, regardless of the metal debris penetrating his skin. Evan would just have to say the word, which is what Dwight was waiting on. Perhaps Evan was too repressed to ever admit that to himself, considering his own self-proclaimed state of ‘Old-Fashioned’.
Dwight felt hands on his shoulders.
“You’re going to help clean this room up, alright? Sweep up the dirt and mess while I goes to grab somethin, alright?”
Doing as he was told, Dwight grabbed the wooden broom from the wall and got to work. Careful not to overwork himself as per instruction, Dwight took his merry time forming a pile of dust and dirt in the middle of the room. From the looks of it, most of it had been tracked in by Michael. Gross. Sweeping the dirt into the dustpan, Dwight dumped it into a trash can at the very moment Evan re-entered the room.
Evan was holding some kind of notepad and a pencil. Perhaps he wanted to make a list or something? Chores, maybe? Instead of telling Dwight what he was up to, Evan simply fell down into one of the room’s chairs and got to work writing onto the page. Somewhat confused, Dwight continued his cleaning. Wasn’t going to bother his keeper over something minuscule like that. Evan probably had his reasons after all, and he could do this himself. The room was small, wouldn’t take too long to clean, much shorter than what he had done to most of the house previously.
The room was mostly quiet save for the soft pencil scratching and brushing of the broom against the floor’s surface. It was relaxing, in a way, the two of them being together like this. Almost domestic, almost. Dwight mused to himself, did that make him a housewife? Doing some cleaning and housework while the ‘man’ of the house sat and watched? It made him want to chuckle at the absurdity of the situation he found himself in but kept that sound inside. Dwight did smile though, facing away from the man. Wouldn’t want Evan to pry, because he wouldn’t know what to say and wouldn’t lie to the man that had done so much for him since taking him from that trial.
Curiosity got the better of Dwight though, as he slowly inched his way towards Evan while cleaning. Figuring it out in his head, he approached from an angle that would let him take a peek at whatever was being written down on paper. In all honesty, Dwight knew himself to be terribly nosey, wanting to have all the information about what was going on. Realistically, he knew this wasn’t likely to ever happen, but having information was comforting, having knowledge was power.
When Dwight reached up to organize a shelf, he took a quick glance to his side. The vantage point was just right, and the right moment too when Evan’s gaze was on his page. This page, then, had what looked to be a sketch of a figure cleaning, Evan was drawing him, quite well if he had to add. The thought made that warm feeling bubble up in his stomach, the kind of feeling that was not as simple in plain nature as an erection. There was something about being artistically depicted that made him shimmer. It may or may not have been creepy, but Dwight couldn’t deny the fact that it was a pretty fucking good drawing and that Evan was taking this time away from his trials to spend it on something like that. Dwight’s mind raced. Would this sketch be a gift perhaps? It was clearly unfinished, but he was sure it would look even better once finished. Definitely a gift for him, perhaps as a welcome home sort of deal? Or maybe he’d put it up in one of the halls of painting and pictures, he’d have a home on the walls of this MacMillan estate.
It didn’t really matter though, as Dwight quickly looked away once he saw motion from the man. It should have felt probing to know that Evan was glancing at him to gain reference for his representation, but it didn’t. It didn’t feel probing because now that he knew, Dwight felt no resistance to the idea. Perhaps it was his inner cat mewling for attention, or something of that nature. He gave an extra effort to plaster on a smile, one that was directed to Evan when he glanced back.
The man gave him a smirk, one that quickly followed a rushed stroke of pencil. Twilight filtered into the room and illuminated the dust coasting on the air, but Dwight did not open a window. That could not happen anymore, not on the ground floor at least. Dwight wasn’t sure exactly how The Shape had entered into the estate in the first place, but there would be no repetition. The home would be locked down like a fortress, and Dwight wouldn’t accept anything but. Evan would fortify things, he was sure, the man seemed to be quite creative after all.
Still, catching Evan drawing was definitely something unexpected. Sure, there had been that sketch of him in Evan’s box, but it had been one instance. To know that Evan seemingly practiced his art regularly, it was something noteworthy, a direct contrast against his oppressive image and nature. That mask did not belong to a man who could sketch an image so nicely.
Roughly a half-hour later of Evan seemingly watching Dwight clean, the man suddenly roused from his chair. Stretching his arms and adjusting the straps of his overalls, Evan made his way over to Dwight. Just finishing up his dusting, the presence was welcome.
“Hey Evan, think I’m finished in here now. Did I do a good job?”
Evan almost growled as he took Dwight’s hips into his arms. Definitely a recurring theme for the man, but Dwight found comfort in the possessive gestures. He was wanted, at the very least.
“Couldn’t have asked for anything better. Hope you didn’t work too hard or tired yourself. I gave you some light work just to keep your mind off things. Herman taught me that, to distract yourself from bad things not as avoiding- but to simply live with what has happened to us.”
This was not as deep as Dwight expected, but not unwelcome either. It gave him a chance to reflect on what exactly had happened to him all the same. The trap, the survivor’s betrayal, Evan talking to him, the house. This sequence of events was unforgettable. He’d never forget the one act of kindness shown to him after so long. It struck him to the bone, the sheer headiness of comfort within the fog of this world. Dwight would do anything to pay Evan back, he’d clean hundreds of rooms a thousand times just to show his captor how much he appreciated him.
“I agree. You’ve helped me get over everything, in a way. I’ll lean on your shoulder to help me get through things, you don’t mind, right?”
Evan’s calloused hands dipped under the back of Dwight’s shirt and felt up his spine. Shivers erupted on his skin, the hair on his body standing on end. A pleasurable touch, all the same.
“I could never mind you, boy. And you will lean on my shoulder with any issue you ‘ave. I’ll be the one to help, always and… Forever... “
It was sweet, in a way, if Dwight ignored the possessive and controlling undertones. Maybe he’d complain about that if he wasn’t trapped in some sort of interdimensional limbo with a bunch of killers.
“How about we go cook some dinner together, I’ll be hosting a dinner party tomorrow, just to celebrate this occasion with my friends. I have a few here, but they are quite close. You have nothing to fear. Herman didn’t do nothin to ya, so I doubt the others that I’m okay with would either. Just letting ya know that since I knows you’ll probably be right worried ‘bout it.”
Evan knew him well, at the very least. Dwight’s pupils narrowed and pulse quickened at the idea of meeting any other killer that wasn’t Evan or Herman. And even then, Dwight wasn’t sure how he felt about Herman. At least Dwight would be able to help him cook, maybe that would take his mind off of dining with his tormentors and murderers.