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dobriking · 5 years

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Bend Into A Break (3)

Summary: Not one, but two vlog-squads came with the death of Vine. And the rumored beef between you two is absolutely true! So, you and David (begrudgingly) set up a month long-retreat among your groups to film team challenges and go against each other. Y’know. For views. Pairing: David Dobrik x Reader, Enemies to Lovers, living together. Warnings: Profanity, mentions of drinking, sexual...themes?

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“David…you do realize how impractical it was to rent the party bus, right?”

David hangs out the bus by holding onto the door’s nearby pole, and carelessly swings back and forth, only his heels keeping him on the bus’ front step. He sucks his lips in, really thinking about it. Because to him it seems only practical to get everybody completed wasted to prevent the car-equivalent of capsizing from the many fights likely to break out.

So he blinks very slowly.

You sigh. “David…how is anybody going to leave like we promised if we’re renting one party bus just to take us there? And if no on-demand Ubers will be in the vicinity of a creepy, half-haunted mansion on a hill available to drive a bunch of bumbling adult babies from one house to the next because somebody forgot their stupid phone battery?”

Oh. That’s what you’re getting at.

He’s stuck letting out this crackling groan trying to think of something to say.

“Well uh,” he snaps his fingers — genius, “that’s why me and you are taking the Tesla.”

You drop your head. “We’re going to leave our groups drunk and unsupervised on a party bus together aren’t we?”

“I…didn’t think this through.”

“No, David. You didn’t.” You walk inside, your black bomber jacket making more noise for your dramatic exit than you would have liked. But to start this week out right (after the previous week of haphazardly buying and planning for this), you, David, and the rest of the crew wear the merch you promised. Well, the closest you could get to it. You couldn’t create around 18 labeled shorts and shirts in such a short time, so you gathered typical athletic styles, red and blue for each team, and scoured the internet for stitched name tags to be pinned on each shirt.

You chose our style thinking of the future and how convenient an easier way to air out would be. So your shorts are cut off at (almost) the very top of your thigh, traditional to those stereotypical 70s shorts with the neon majority and white trim. Currently you’re freezing your ass off with the clouds hanging overhead, but your jacket does something to proportionate the warmth.

You pass around the name tags to everybody standing in David’s living room, clustered in groups of two with their corresponding members.

To deal with Natalie being an outlier, David (with a pain in his heart) agreed to let her represent your team opposite Scott. You’re careful handing her the badge and she takes it with caution, pinning it in her shirt while her eyes continuously flicker to yours.

Zane and Noel, Heath and Cody, they make some contest out of who can put their badge on faster. Heath cackles and runs his finger up Cody’s chest to flick him in the nose, trying to trick him into thinking his badge is horribly off-center. Zane gives Noel the stink-eye for giving Heath the stink-eye for messing with his friend.

Corinna and Enya don’t try messing with each other. Contrary, Corinna brought Enya some lemonade and they stir their straws through the ice in unison as they talk with each other.

Toddy and Amanda (the groups’ resident hotties) stand together but don’t look. They watch the others, unable to shake their anxieties.

Erin and Emily, Carly and Chloe…they’re getting along just fine!

Actually talking!

You smile at the display ready to hand them their badges, but make it quick when you hear them mutually bashing the trip. Ouch, okay.

Then there’s Matt and Drew. They sit opposite each other on the couch, and similarly too with their legs spread and hands limp in their lap. They can’t figure out what’s so similar about them, but it’s easy! They’re both pretty tall and seem to be a voice of reason, but then they hit you in the gut with bizarre humor and blatant understanding.

At the very least everybody’s followed instructions and bought the clothes you provided them. They have their suitcases and backpacks, and while you know none of them are really prepared for what you and David have in store, they’re prepared enough.

You hop on David’s coffee table, cup your hands around your lips, and whistle.

“Okay okay, listen up! So David’s got the party bus — “

Corinna squints “But what about our cars?”

You hiss. “Heh, that’s what I tried to tell him but guess what, he still has the party bus! So..!” You pump your fist in the air; you couldn’t be less enthusiastic, “Yay…Don’t worry, we’ll figure something out. Right now I think its best we all just travel together, and when you start to go insane with being unable to leave in anything but a strobing party bus, we’ll probably drive everybody around and pick up a few cars.”

Scott frowns, impressed. “So no Tesla? Never thought he’d part with that thing.”

“Oh no, he’s bringing the Tesla.”

“Hey, that’s no fair!”

“Yeah how come he gets to bring his car but we can’t bring ours!”

You groan and your volume and intensity increase with each word, “Because he just wanted you all to get drunk and have fun and not murder each other on the three-hour drive and he didn’t connect the dots about him bringing his Tesla and you guys not bringing your own cars o-KAY?!”

You hop down and stomp out of the room. “Just bring your damn bags and stop complaining!”

David’s standing by his Tesla holding a hand to his hip and the other to his forehead, spieling his eyes from the sun beaming down from behind the house. “How’d it go?” He’s chewing his cheek. “Good?”

You shrug and drop your arms. “I dunno.” You force a smile. “Started getting mad about the car thing but I told them to shut up then left so I have no idea how it escalated.”

“Hmm, that’s good. You need to like, be more assertive.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Your voice is lost on him once you hop on the bus and look around.

It may be a little tight. Like David said, being drunk (for those who can be) might do a bit to deal with the comfort but you have an inkling a fight might break out before they even bring out the vodka. “Hey, David?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think ew should take a few people with us?” You head off but he hops on, swinging in by the door’s immediate pole.

He shakes his head, “Nah, they’ll be fine.”

You sigh through your nose and return to looking deep into the bus. “I think the fact we have to get them drunk during the transport is enough of a red flag.”

“Yeah no definitely.” You’re shocked by his ease but he shrugs. “But don’t worry.” He pats your arm. “Gonna be fun.” Then he hops back off. You back out slowly and in time to see him jogging inside the house to gather everybody. You step out and go to the back, slipping the poor driver a 50. You pat his shoulder and don’t say a word, but he still nods solemnly knowing that you mean the best of luck.

David comes out leading the group and it looks like an elementary school field-trip. He stops at the door, waving his hand to gesture one after another forward, and counts even to make sure everybody’s there. He squints, watching you take pity on the driver before giving him room to haul everybody’s things into the under-part of the bus.

You watch them get on one by one, actually worried. David can see it from where he stands. He keeps his eyes on you over his shoulder as he locks up the house, though only does that after popping into do a quick run through and make sure the doors are locked and lights are on.

While checking with the driver to make sure his address is right, he admits it is indeed crowded.

He steps over everybody to get to the back’s fridge and out he cradles bottles of champagne and vodka to the middle table, cheering “Yaaaay!” To combat the stillness. He stands back, hands on his hips and gestures the drunk. “C’mon guys, have some fun. Woo!” He claps and skips to the front, “Party time!” Ignoring the discomfort he brings Corinna and Cody particularly (Cody disturbed with her close presence and Corinna disturbed by the sheer amount of space he fills up with his spread legs).

David hops off the bus and jogs to his Tesla. You’re in the passenger seat and he slips in, buckles up, and starts it as fast as he can.

He wonders if there’s enough alcohol on the bus to last three hours. His bets are they’ll battle it out, get drunk out of frustration, and have a really good time for about an hour then pass out before reaching the third. Fourth depending on traffic.

You jump at his hurriedness, voice quaky. “Everything okay?” And buckle yourself.

He bites his tongue and waits. When the bus’ driver gives him a thumbs up he answers, “Yuuup,” before driving.

You hum. “There’s a bathroom on the bus…right?”

“Yup, yup.” He thinks so but he’s not sure. Best to assure himself that it won’t be a literal shit-show.”

You frown. “David…are they gonna die?”

He holds his tongue again. “Mhmm.”

You slump back and pick at your sleeves.

Thirty minutes in and you become comfortable enough to make yourself comfortable. You pull your legs up to the seat, though hesitate when David eyes you. Seeing you rethink your decision he shakes his hand over your lap as he turns a corner. “Oh no don’t worry — that’s nothing compared to what they’ve done in here.” You slowly bring your legs back up, and David too relaxes, thighs separated and palm press to one of them.

He sticks his hand between his seat and the center console, pulls out the aux cord, and tosses it in your lap. You play some tunes knowing full well David’s put them at the end of a few vlogs — just to be safe.

Though you get a chill when Zedd’s “Beautiful Now’ comes on and you’re treated to the (wonderfully sung) lyrics of:

I see what you’re wearing, there's nothing beneath it

Forgive me for staring, forgive me for breathing

David rolls his shoulders and sinks deeper. But the initial soft sounds of the track grow into something more powerful and you’re both ignoring it until the beat drops again:

Stranded together, our worlds have collided

This won't be forever, so why try to fight it?

That’s ironic, you think.

And on cue David says “That’s ironic,” with a faint chuckle.

You chuckle too. It’s breathy and highlights your anxiety even more with the addition of the otherwise silent car. “Sure is…”

Maybe five minutes pass, then David reaches and turns it down. He sniffles, swiping his wrist under his nose as you come to a red light.

“So, uhm…” He blinks harshly and rapidly before shaking his head at himself and forcing a chuckle. “I don’t even know what I was going to say.” You hum to soothe him. Then he snaps his fingers, “Oh yeah! So like…? What challenges do you have in mind. I have some obviously, just wondering what you have.”

“Oh. Well…” you sit up and grab your phone, turning down the volume even more and opening your notes. “I mean I had some typical stuff like a water balloon fight.” You point over your shoulder. “Brought some balloons for that —“

He takes his eyes off the road and light, “Red and blue?” and smiles are you.

You chuckle. “Yup…yup. Red and blue. So water balloon fight, the pool could be of use but I dunno, a swimming content seems too standard.”

“Right.” The light’s green and he gets going again, letting his eyes dart to you every so often when it’s the least inconvenient.

You start to stretch, wrapping your arms behind you and around the headrest. It lengthens you out and lifts your shirt a little. “I figured we’d be ordering food all month, but at one point before Heath goes too crazy we should have a cooking contest or something.”

David watches you stretch. But he hisses at himself realizing how strange it must be. You recall his hissing as a response to your suggestion however and he saves himself with “Ouch. Just gonna hand over a win like that?”

You shrug. “I mean hey, if he doesn’t pull out a hatchet I’ll gladly give you guys a win.” Speaking of hatchet, “Kind of a shame we’re in California cause a snowball fight could show spectacular sportsmanship.”

His face scrunches up. “It’s still June.”

“Yeah but still. I’d be willing to postpone for that. Snowball fight, sledding, white elephant and crap.”

He leans forward, squinting to read the sign up ahead. “Some holiday spirit would make everybody a little less angry. I’ll see what I can do.”

You find that curious but ignore it and continue. “And since we’re a bunch of adult babies I figured we’d all get a kick out of a giant pillow fort. I’m talking all through the house. We could figure out things to do in there like those games where you try to balance an egg on a spoon…only through a pillow fort.

“OOoooOoo, I like. And uhm, campfire? We could like, do a campfire. Tell stories. I mean you rented a creepy ass mansion for this so,” he clears his throat, “let’s knock some socks off, y’know?”

“…Did you just say ‘let’s knock some socks off?’”

“What’s said in the Tesla stays in the Tesla.”

“Got it…Why don’t we just shove every season of the year into one month”

“I mean hey,” you chuckle, “sounds good to me!”

You don’t have anything else to bring up, and neither does David. He turns the music back up, and after a few songs “Bad Romance” by Lady Gaga comes on maybe an hour into the drive…you and David squint forward, taking in the synth instrumentals with her slick voice.

“Hey—“ your voice cracks “—what do you think about a lip syncing contest?”

David gulps. “Yes.”

Immediately David pops in your mind when you think of this song. Digging through your childhood memories you recall ‘Total Drama Island.’ You reabsorb that damn show and every little thing about it, specifically that season where the host switched teams up the last minute. But no, that wouldn’t work. You would be on different teams regardless of the shake-up being team-leaders and all.

“Wh-” you start. David looks at you, waiting. “What if it’s like, a versus battle. So like, me versus you, Enya versus Corinna, corresponding people, y’know? Instead of the entire group.”

David hums. “Yeah but, who’s going to vote?”

Can’t be your fanbases because the answer to them would always be clear.

“Uh…anonymous voting? Each person votes for who objectively did better in the battle for each battle, and then, y’know.”

“What about voting for yourself?” He shoots it down, logically.

You sit deeper in your seat and slide down a bit, neck posing your head awkwardly against the seat rather than the headrest. “I hope everybody’s mature enough to be objective…”

David leans against the center console and picks at his lips. Then he snaps his fingers, “I got it. Surprise guests. Like, I could bring Brandon and Jason.” He points at you with his thumb, “couldn’t you fly Tom here and like, get Casey? Frey? And they have to come to a mutual decision. Problem solved.”

You hum. “So to be clear me and you are dancing to ‘Bad Romance’, right?”

“Oh definitely.”

You clap once, “Good on that.”

“I mean, we both know you’ll win, so,” he says so casually, turning down the music again. It’s sickening to see him pass over the crown so easily.

You scoff. “That’s not true. You’re very expressive.”

David smiles. “Oh. Am I?”

“Yeah.” You roll your eyes, unsure if this is him fishing for compliments or his ignorance. “You can shake it, David. No — you can work it. I’m not gonna deny that.”

He hums and bites his thumb.

“What?” You nod at him, beckoning him to continue. He lets out a faint squeal and shakes his head, going to different lengths from covering his mouth with his palm to his wrist to biting his fingers again to keep quiet. “David, tell me.”

“‘anks for ‘icing.”

“David — articulate.”

He giggles and repeats, “Thanks for noticing,” in a whisper. You roll your eyes and slink down further in your seat. He stutters for a moment but shouts “Hey! Y-you’re uh, you’re pretty expressive too…so.” He slaps the steering wheel and sits back at the next red light. “I said it. You’re ‘expressive’ too, okay? So who knows which of us is going to win?”

You squint. “So basically you check out my ass—“

“Hey! I did no—“

You cackle, “But you still check out my ass!”

“Okay!” He holds up a finger and runs his tongue over his lips. “Okay okay, but to be fair, you check mine out too!” He curses himself. You have the strange ability to pull facts out o your ass and whoever isn’t prepared enough for them falls right into your trap.

“HA!” No I don’t!”

“YOU SAID I’M EXPRESSIVE!”

You jump and lean over the console to get in his space. “I LOOK AT YOUR LEGS!” You slap at where they’re clothed. “Your thighs! And your waist and your chest and your arms - ALL of you is expressive, David! You’ve got this like,” you scrunch your hands up, “weird, tiny little dancer’s body!”

“Wait wait wait hold on a minute!” You lean back, cheek against your seat. “How am I worse?!” He laughs. “I only look at your ass, you look at all of me!”

“Because I look at you in an artistic way. Cause that’s what the body is: a beautiful piece of art.”

He gulps, trying to hum as though impressed with your observation. But it hurts his throat to do it and he coughs, choking on his own giggles and having to press his fist to his lips to stop it all from spilling over as he starts driving again.

He takes a deep breath, focusing all his energy on not giving himself away this time. “Well psh, how,” he takes a deep breath, “how do you know I don’t look at you like a piece of art?”

You shrug. “Cause you don’t. Or,” you hum, “wait? Do you?”

Hoping this time it’ll work in his favor, David keeps his mouth shut. Still, his lips curl fighting a smile, but he’s successful. You hum with your mouth open (“Mhmm”) and keep your jaw slack for a period before chewing on your cheek. Though you still make the effort to hum, making your thought process accessible to David.

“You know,” your hand goes over his, jokingly (of course), “I’m very flattered you consider me a piece of art. No no-not just that, but a ‘beautiful’ piece of art.”

“I mean, what am I supposed to say?” His chin goes to his chest and he shakes his head as best as he can. “I’m not a liar Y/n, so.”

“Never said you were.”

“You have a hot body so I’m gonna say you have a hot body. So let’s just —“ he swipes his hand down like a karate chop, “—stop with the, y’know, work-arounds.”

When the silence becomes too much, David notices you staring at him. Almost emotionless but with the tiniest upward flick of the corner of your lips. He does a double take, readjusts his position in his seat.

“I’m gonna ask you to rethink what you just said to me.” He squints, not sure why but you see his brows twitch while he does as asked,

Then he jumps, eyes wide and body as stiff as a board. His jaw drops before his teeth dig into his lip, then “UGH!” He slams the center console, turning the corner with one hand and waving his other around with each syllable. “How do you do that?!” When the words initially came from his mouth they came out so formally yet so casually he hardly thought anything of it. Like how he would tell Jason to cut the shit, only this time instead of just ‘cut the shit’ he said to ‘cut the shit’ in terms of dodging the notion he’s attracted to you.

You shrug and pat his shoulder. “Allll you buddy.”

“I—“ he shakes his head, “—I never said that. What is said in the Tesla stays in the Tesla.”

“Fine by me. If that’s the case guess we’re not gonna put on the record that I would totally let you rail me. So, whatever.”

What.

You dig through your backpack and crack open an Arizona iced tea. The click of the metal and bubbling of the drink as you swallow breaks some of the silence.

Otherwise, at this moment David embodies the meme of that blonde gal’s eyes jumping every which way, some math problem overlaid on the screen. He’s completely silent, and you shift, waiting. His nose scrunches up every time he thinks he’s got it but he just can’t quite grasp onto what you said.

In a tiny voice, “Well I’d rail you too—“

You throw your head back and dig your free palm into your eye — “I WAS KIDDING!”

You weren’t. Not entirely.

“OKAY WELL SO WAS I!” David’s face is so flustered you swear you could stick your hand to his cheek and leave an indent showing his true tone. You bang your head back against the headrest over and over, eventually biting your thumb so you don’t cry from hysterical laughter. He’s snickering but ultimately blinking tears out of his eyes. He shakes his head, clenching the wheel with both hands (for once). “I hate you so much.”

“Awe…” You squeeze his shoulder. “I hate you too.”

Maybe this won’t be such a long ride?