Tired Jack - Coming back from the brink
Mar. 8th, 2013 11:50 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
moonshadowsThe door opened; he started awake and tensed as a nurse walked in carrying a tray.
“What’s that?” he asked, just shy of a demand.
“Breakfast,” she answered.
He stood, stretched, and crossed the small room to examine the contents of the tray. Bland, mushy, bleh.
Unacceptable.
“No, it’s not,” he said, taking it from her. “Not for him. Where’s your kitchen? I’ll make it myself.”
“I can’t allow-”
Impatiently, he cut her off. “I’ll clear it with Dr. Ziegler, but I’m preparing his food. Now. Where is your kitchen?”
=
It was relaxing, working with his hands. The familiar scents and textures, the muscle memory linked with sensory memory. Eggs and ham, potatoes and bacon. And, of course, biscuits. He ate two fresh out of the oven, without jam or even butter. They were perfect, and a tiny crumb of peace lodged in his heart as he chased them down with cold milk. Split two, spread them with butter and let it melt. Split two more, butter and strawberry jam. Those never made it to a plate.
With a proper breakfast on the tray, coffee and juice in covered containers, he went back to Reyes’s room.
Reyes was awake and sitting up, although from the lack of worried expression he guessed he hadn’t been awake long.
“Made you breakfast,” he said shortly, suddenly uncertain that this was a welcome thing for him to have done and feeling very self-conscious as he put the tray on a wheeled table and pushed it closer.
“I didn’t know the hospital kitchen was stocked with Bisquick,” Reyes said casually.
He froze. Reyes froze, looking at him, lips forming a teasing smile but eyes begging him silently to laugh.
Bisquick. Their old pattern. He felt something in him stretch, trying to respond to that teasing smile, like a rusted mechanism struggling to move again. He didn’t quite smile, but his lips twitched.
“If you’d rather have the plain oatmeal I can call the nurse back…”
“Nonono I take it back.”
Reyes reached for the table and he pushed it within reach before sitting down again. He watched Reyes eat, packing the food away like he’d been on cold rations for the last month and occasionally shooting him worried looks.
“You did eat, right?” Reyes asked warily.
“Yeah.”
“Okay. Good.”
Once Reyes was done eating, he pushed the table out of the way and moved his chair back to beside the bed.
“Jack…”
“Hm?”
Reyes took his hand gently. “I know I’ve got no room to speak, but are you okay?”
How do you describe the sensation like your world is falling apart and taking you with it, and only by ignoring the things you care about can you hold yourself together? He shuddered briefly, remembering root beer floats and the warm, solid comfort of Reyes’s shoulder, but he was wrapped too tightly to even let himself yearn for that.
“I’m tired,” he sighed. “I’ll…go let Ziegler know you’re awake. Need the bathroom before I do?”
Reyes shook his head, looking like he wanted to say something but was chewing on the words instead.
“Okay. I’ll be back.”
He left the room.
===
"You have an apartment," he said as the taxi pulled up to the row of single-story townhouses. He wanted to be incredulous, but that was more energy than he had and he sighed instead. "Of course you do."
That was the extent of his commentary until they were inside. It looked, to be honest, like the kind of place you take someone to fuck. The couch was wide and covered in soft leather, and Reyes shoved him gently at it.
"Take a nap," he said firmly. "You look like you need to sleep for a week and I know for a fact there's nothing to eat here, so crash on my couch while I go grocery shopping."
He wanted to protest, the impulse grating inside him that he couldn't rest he had things to - but he wasn't a kid anymore. No one was depending on him.
I'm your CO, Morrison, you're supposed to be able to lean on me. It's in my fucking job description.
But he didn't want to be a burden.
He looked at Reyes, intending to protest, and saw worry in the depths of those dark eyes. The words dried up in his throat and he nodded instead.
The couch was soft and cool. He laid his head on a throw pillow and closed his eyes.
=
"Wake up," a voice ordered.
Adrenaline surged briefly, giving him the strength to open his eyes and sit up, but then it left him there with a head full of fog trying to remember where he was and why.
"Get in here," Reyes called in a tone that brooked no argument.
He followed Reyes's voice into the kitchen - pale and sterile - and found the man standing with his arms crossed in front of a round wooden table. He opened is mouth to ask a question, but Reyes nodded towards a chair.
"Sit."
He sat, and discovered that Reyes's body had been blocking a large, frosted mug filled with bubbly brown liquid and pale, creamy lumps.
"Drink that," Reyes said firmly.
A long-handled spoon and a bendy straw had been shoved into the mug, between scoops of ice cream. Slowly, he reached for the mug and pulled it closer. A root beer float. Reyes made him a root beer float. Reyes was worried about him. The straw trembled in his hand and he let go, uncertain that he'd be able to swallow even if he got any of it in his mouth.
Reyes sat beside him and slid his chair closer. The wrapping holding him tight was unraveling. He turned and pressed his face into Reyes's shoulder, felt muscles shift as Reyes wrapped an arm around him.
You're supposed to be able to lean on me.
He trembled, tightness coming undone, mental bandages coming loose and spilling emotional guts all over the floor of Reyes's booty-call kitchen. It hurt, everything that had happened. The deaths. The destruction. Losing Reyes. It hurt, but Reyes was here, arms wrapped around him, and all he could do was draw in one shaky breath after another, letting them out in shuddering exhalations. Reyes was here. He could lean on Reyes.
Jack pressed his face into Gabriel's shirt, feeling all the things he hadn't let himself feel and trying not to cry. Eventually, he was empty. The black void inside him merged with the darkened kitchen and Jack gratefully ceased to exist.
===
He woke up in a darkened room, on a bed with dark sheets, under a velour blanket. Stretching his arms out only proved the bed was big enough for two people, and that he was in it alone. Then memory came back, and Jack frowned. He was in Gabriel's secret apartment, in Gabriel's bed? Jack sat up and examined the covers. There were two pillows, but the other one was still plumply smooth. Also, he was wearing nothing but briefs and Gabriel had left clothes for him on the chair by the bathroom door.
Well, he could take a hint.
One hot shower later, he emerged from the bedroom wearing a pair of broken-in jeans and one of Gabriel's t-shirts to see his host curled up on the couch in a pair of sweatpants, back to the room, hugging a throw pillow and breathing deeply.
He was sleeping on the couch. He'd slept on the couch. He'd put Jack to bed in his bed and then slept on the couch.
Jack's insides squirmed. To silence the whispers of guilt and longing, he went to the kitchen and investigated the groceries Gabriel had bought.
Eggs. Flour. Butter. Buttermilk. Bacon.
A moment of checking cabinets turned up mixing bowls and a skillet. Knife and wooden spoon and spatula in a drawer. Good enough. Jack went to work, cutting butter and mixing flour and milk, working by years of experience and texture rather than measuring. Juggling the timing of various things was second-nature, and when the oven timer went off on his biscuits, he had just finished the eggs and the coffee was done.
Gabriel shuffled in and poured himself a mug of coffee, eyes scrunched shut against the light. Jack split and buttered a pair of biscuits, adding them to his plate and setting it on the table before addressing his own breakfast. Gabriel shuffled over to the table and sat. When Jack went to prepare a cup of coffee for himself, he discovered Gabriel'd already done it.
They ate in silence for a minute or two before Jack said hesitantly, "I see you decided not to get Bisquick."
Gabriel snorted but didn't look up. "Didn't want to make it too easy for you."
Too easy? Like making biscuits the right way was hard? Like he would ever touch that garbage in the first place? He'd go without biscuits before he used that crap! Jack's jaw clenched in indignation and he looked up, about to give Reyes a piece of his mind, only to discover Reyes watching through his lashes for Jack's reaction. When he saw that Jack had taken the bait, he smirked and then took a healthy bite of butter-soaked biscuit.
The anger popped, leaving Jack off-balance and feeling foolish. Of course Gabriel had only been trying to rile him up. It had just been so long that he'd forgotten what that give-and-take was like. He let his eyes drop back to his plate.
"You slept on the couch," he said quietly.
Gabriel snorted again. "I'm sorry, Jack, did you want to sleep on the couch?"
He ignored the sarcasm. "The bed's big enough for two; neither of us has to sleep on the couch. It wouldn't be nearly the most risque thing we've ever done," he added dryly.
"Yeah, but just so you know, this is where I spend the night when I'm getting laid. The only time I sleep here is when I've brought someone back with me."
Jack forced himself to ignore the implications of having been brought here. "And?"
"And you might wake up as the little spoon," Gabriel warned him. "I can't be held responsible if that happens."
"You really think I'd object to that?" Jack asked softly, raising his eyes briefly to Gabriel's, a painful smile playing about his lips. He looked back down before he could see rejection in his best friend's expression, winding himself tighter to hold that years-old bleeding wound shut.
After a minute of strained silence, Gabriel sighed. "Fine. We'll share the bed. Now finish your breakfast so I can do the dishes. Ah," he said as Jack looked up to protest. "Don't even start. You know better than that. You cook, I fucking clean."
But I'm a guest, Jack wanted to say. Gabriel was almost glowering at him, though, waiting for an objection so he could shoot it down. The urge to protest died slowly, smothered under tentative warmth, and Jack only realized he was smiling tiredly when Gabriel's expression shifted to relieved satisfaction.
"We're going food shopping again after breakfast," Gabriel announced as Jack returned to his breakfast. "I can handle bacon, eggs, and things for biscuits. Lunch and dinner is all on you. Unless you want to go out," he added casually.
Jack shook his head. "Too much chance of being recognized. I'll cook."
"Alright. I'll need to pick up some beer, then." Gabriel collected their empty dishes and headed to the sink.
"You've got beer."
"It's been there too long," Gabriel replied almost cheerfully. "We'd need Mercy to save them."
Jack felt a smile tugging at his lips. "I'm not sure she could. And even if she did," he continued as Gabriel chuckled, "would you really want to drink that?"
"Only if it was trying to drink me," Gabriel joked. "There's only one way I'll allow bodily fluids to get sucked out of me, and I'm not about to let a beer give me a blowjob."
"I don't think you have to worry about that, Gabe. It would never be able to get you in, even a wide-mouth can."
At the sink, Gabriel froze. Then he turned to look at Jack over his shoulder, astonishment turning into a broad smile as he saw Jack's. Only then did Jack realize that he'd been bantering with Gabriel, the way they used to.
The way he'd thought they never would again.
Jack's smile turned shy, half of him giddy at reconnecting with Gabriel like this and the other half wanting to retreat in exhausted embarrassment that what had once been effortless now took work and mental energy. Gabriel gave him a brief look of approval and encouragement before turning back around as if embarrassed himself to have been caught showing those emotions.
===
Jack wondered dully, on the way to the store, if the car in the garage space had been paid for by misappropriated Overwatch funds. Thinking about it took too much effort and he gave up, deciding he didn't care. Grocery shopping was dry and tiring, brief phrases exchanged here and there when one of them peeled off to grab something but no more than that. Remembering what equipment he had and had not seen in Gabriel's kitchen, Jack opted for ingredients to make stir-fry and pizza. Gabriel spent a lot of time perusing beers, only to come back with some pouches as well. He didn't meet Jack's eyes as he put them in the cart, and a glance told Jack why: they were pre-made strawberry daiquiris, meant to be frozen and enjoyed at home. On the one hand, strawberry. But on the other hand...
Gritting his teeth, Jack took the cart to the produce section. He didn't drink, and Gabriel knew it.
When he finished selecting peppers and turned back to the cart, someone had added two cartons of strawberries and a package of ladyfingers. Gabriel was, of course, nowhere to be seen. Jack sighed and went over to dairy for a carton of heavy cream, then the baking aisle for sugar and vanilla. Gabriel came back with a box of chocolate-covered frozen strawberries - Jack wasn't sure if he wanted to lunge for them or glare - and put them in the cart with an unrepentant look before going off for god-only-knew-what.
By the time they got to checkout, a bottle of strawberry soda and a small cheesecake covered in strawberries had mysteriously appeared among the rest of the groceries. Gabriel didn't say a word as he scanned the items; Jack didn't say a word as he bagged them. The ride back was silent.
He appropriated the produce while Reyes put away the rest of the groceries, ignoring the other man in favor of a sharp knife and the cutting board. He was halfway through the first pepper when a spoonful of something red and white appeared in front of his face. Annoyed, he ate it, and the sweet tang of strawberry and cheesecake made his hands pause in surprise as the world around him resumed existing. As soon as he swallowed, another spoonful of strawberry cheesecake was in front of him. Somewhere around the third or fourth bite he turned his head to see Gabriel perched cheerfully on the counter, the cheesecake in one hand, offering him yet another spoonful with a grin that was equal parts smug and delighted.
The rest of the stir-fry prep went quickly and deliciously.
=
"Feeling better?" Gabriel asked as he took the lunch dishes over to the sink.
Jack leaned back in his chair and sighed. "Yeah. Sorry about-"
"Don't. Don't apologize." He turned to glare at Jack before returning his attention to the dishes. "You had to have had a shittier week than I did, and I almost died of exposure, so don't you even apologize for not being a ray of fucking sunshine, Morrison!"
"Yes, sir," Jack said with a small smile.
"That's better. Now get over here and check the daiquiri pouches. See if they're frozen."
The warm amusement faded. "Gabe..."
Gabriel moved the last plate to the drying rack and checked the freezer. He took a pouch out, squeezed it, cut the top off and stuck in a bendy straw before setting it down in front of Jack with a stern expression.
"I know," he said in a more gentle tone than his expression suggested. "You don't drink because your dad was a Grade A asswipe. I know you haven't had the best experience with alcohol, but trust me on this, okay? It doesn't have to be getting shitfaced and passing out. It can be just loosening up. You're not going to get drunk on one strawberry daiquiri, especially not on a full stomach. You're going to sip it slowly and relax a little because you're so tense you didn't even drink your root beer float and that worried me, alright? Here," he said, taking the pouch back and grabbing Jack's wrist. "Come with me. To the couch. We'll chill out together."
Jack let himself be pulled to his feet, guilt mixing with warmth that Gabriel was worried about him. He let Gabriel sit him on the couch, sipped tentatively at his frozen drink while some movie played, and thought about the days when sharing a couch inevitably meant one of them with his legs over the arm and his head in the other's lap. Was Gabriel sitting on the other end because he was giving Jack space? Because he was inviting Jack to sprawl on him? Because he was discouraging Jack from getting close? He didn't know, and it was bothering him. The guarded looks Gabriel was shooting at him didn't help and, sulkily, he sipped at the strawberry daiquiri and cursed it silently for tasting so good.
When the pouch was empty, Gabriel stood up and held one hand out in a silent demand for it. Jack let him have it, his eyes somewhere around knee level, and listened as Gabriel went into the kitchen. When he came back, it was with a glass of strawberry soda, an actual strawberry slid onto the straw as an edible decoration.
"If I thought you had any room left," Gabriel said as he handed the glass over, "I would have brought the cheesecake with me."
Gabe cared. That soothed Jack, but what he really needed was something to keep his hands busy.
"Bring me the strawberries," he announced, making Gabriel freeze halfway to sitting down. "And a big bowl, a small bowl, and a paring knife."
Gabriel hesitated, then stood back up. "We didn't wash the strawberries yet," he said slowly. "How about I whip the cream while you do that?"
For a moment, Jack struggled to turn 'whip the cream' into an innuendo. Then he gave up and nodded. "Sure. Thanks."
"I'm counting on you to add the sugar," Gabriel said, grinning.
Jack found himself grinning back. "And the vanilla?"
"Of course."
Movie forgotten, they adjourned to the kitchen for the quiet comfort of preparing food.
=
Working in the kitchen, over a hot stove as he sauteed mushrooms and sausage slices and a little bacon, was hot and thirsty work. He had just put the pizza in the oven and was finishing his second glass of strawberry soda when it occurred to him that the reason it was so cool and fruity was that Gabe had been using daiquiri slush to cool it. He'd known Gabriel was doing that, he'd seen him open the pouches between popping open cans of beer for himself, but he didn't connect that with the alcohol until he already felt...loose. There was worry in Gabriel's eyes as he watched Jack realize he was tipsy, but Jack just set the timer.
Gabe was worried about him. He wouldn't let anything bad happen to Jack, right? He was the only one Jack could lean on.
"Jack, you okay? You're spacing out."
Jack shook his head carefully. "I'm...fine. This is what you wanted to happen, right?"
Gabriel didn't look reassured. "Sit on the couch, Jack. I can take the pizza out and serve it. Do you want more soda? Or..."
"I want what you think I should have," Jack said shortly.
He sat on the couch, sipping slushy soda while Reyes watched him silently, until the timer went off. The sounds of appreciation and compliments were almost background noise. Then Reyes was handing him a plate with two slices, coming back with two more slices for himself and a beer, and lounging on the other end of the couch while the long-forgotten movie from earlier was allowed to continue.
It was good pizza. Jack hadn't had the heart to make it for himself since...the explosion...but he hadn't lost the knack. Gabriel was making enthusiastic sounds as he devoured his slices and washed them down with cold beer.
"I'm getting some more while it's still warm," Gabriel announced. "You still good, Jack?"
Jack looked down at the half a slice he was working on. He always made the same size pizza; they always sliced it into six pieces. Sometimes they each ate three; sometimes Jack had two and Gabriel ate the rest.
"I'm good," he said quietly.
Gabriel came back with the other two slices and another beer. Watching his unabashed enjoyment made Jack feel somehow more human; more like himself. When Gabriel had swallowed the last bite of crust, he put his plate on the coffee table and leaned back with a contented groan that always made Jack think of post-orgasmic bliss.
"I swear, Morrison, I'm going to marry you for your pizza."
The words jolted down his spine, like they always did. It was a ritual almost as long as their friendship, and Jack always countered with reasons they couldn't. I'd have to resign. We'd get court-martialed. We're being attacked by killer robots. You'd have to resign. Petras would have our balls on a silver platter. But this time...this time, there was nothing to counter with. No way to jokingly deny the insincere suggestion he wanted so very much to be sincere.
"Well," he said slowly, "at least neither of us would have to resign?"
"Exactly." Gabriel looked pleased by this.
Jack looked away, drinking alcoholic strawberry and trying to swallow the knot of emotions that brought up. Gabe knew he was wearing their dog tags; knew he'd been wearing their dog tags. Had guessed at the intent because he'd probably seen them the time they went to bed together. Had to know that Jack had...feelings. This wasn't a serious suggestion; it couldn't be, this was just their usual pizza banter. But Jack wanted so much for it not to be, and having that dangled in front of him hurt.
"So let's make it official," Gabriel continued.
Only the fact that Jack had frozen completely saved him from choking. He hadn't - he couldn't have heard that right. He was imagining it, right? Wide-eyed and pulse pounding, he threw a panicky look at Gabriel.
Gabriel looked back in confusion. Then his eyes widened. "Calm down, Morrison," he said firmly. "I'm drunk. Forget I said anything. Let me get you some of that strawberry shortcake we made."
Mutely, Jack let Gabriel take his plate. He came back a minute later, pouring the last pouch of slush into Jack's glass, and then sat down next to him with a huge bowl of ladyfingers layered with sliced strawberries and whipped cream.
"Come on," he urged, tugging Jack closer and putting an arm around him. "Lean against me. Easier on my arms that way."
Still shaky, Jack leaned against Gabriel's chest, simultaneously wishing Gabriel had never seen the dog tags so he wouldn't know how much Jack wanted and this could be their usual innocent comfort, and that Gabriel returned his feelings and this could be everything it had never been. He sipped his drink and let Gabriel feed him delicious sweet-tart strawberries and cool cream and soft cake and pretended to watch the movie when in reality he was feeling warm and floaty and it was getting hard to remember why he shouldn't just enjoy this.
"Relaxed now?" Gabriel asked with quiet amusement as he put the empty bowl aside.
Jack belched, making room for the last sip of strawberry goodness. "Mmm."
"Good. You all comfy?"
He was full of delicious and wanted to lay down. Muzzily, he sat up and pushed at Gabriel until the other man moved the bowl to the table and scooted over. Then he fell over - slowly - to put his head on Gabriel's thigh, and sighed. Now he was comfy. He couldn't see the movie very well, but he didn't care. He was stuffed and floaty and Gabe's arm was draped over his side, hand tangling with his. Jack closed his eyes.
===
Jack woke up as the little spoon, exactly as Gabriel warned might happen, but it made him feel warm and connected the way he hadn't really experienced since they'd gone to bed together 'to see if they clicked' all those years ago. He'd thought they'd clicked, but apparently Gabe hadn't...
No, wait. Gabe said he'd lied. That brought all kinds of implications that stole Jack's breath and shook him to his core, tugging at the wrapping holding that bleeding wound shut. He took slow breaths, carefully ignoring each and every implication, until he was no longer in danger of upending his mental stability.
That's when he realized that Gabriel had morning wood, and that he was again wearing nothing but briefs. He could feel Gabe's hands on his skin, his face pressed to the back of Jack's neck, their legs tangled together as Gabriel slowly ground against him in his sleep. As much as Jack wanted to just lay there drowsily and enjoy the illusion of a deeper relationship, he was remembering Gabriel's drunken assertion that they should make it official and suddenly everything was feeling a little too much like a cruel joke.
Carefully, Jack freed himself from Gabriel's sleepy embrace and fled to take a shower.
Gabriel shuffled into the kitchen, once more in a pair of sweatpants, while Jack was cooking breakfast. He hadn't wanted to poke around in Gabriel's things, so he'd taken a fresh pair of briefs out of the pack in the bathroom and put his borrowed jeans back on and called that good enough. Gabriel poured them coffee and took it to the table, where he sat and sipped until Jack set breakfast down in front of him.
"That wasn't the way I meant it to come out," Gabriel said quietly. "Last night, I mean. But I think we should cohabitate."
Jack gave him a lopsided smile. "Well, it's not like I have anywhere else to go, but are you sure...?"
"This place is too big for one person," Gabriel said firmly. "Trust me, I know. I, uh, turned the other bedroom into a gym, though..."
Suddenly, a budget line item sprang to Jack's mind. "Covert off-site training facility?"
Gabriel looked away and coughed.
"Gabe..." Jack put his fork down and leaned into his hands, laughing. "I want to say I can't believe you, but I know you better than that." He leaned back, grinning broadly and letting his hands drop.
Gabriel had been watching warily from the corner of his eye, but after a moment he grinned back. "So, is that a yes on living together?"
Jack picked his fork up again. "You don't mind sharing your bed?"
"I'm not selling my bed for a pair of singles," he said with an amused snort.
"You sure?" Jack grinned at him. "We could get bunk beds and fight over who gets to be on top."
Gabriel hesitated a second, swallowed what he'd been chewing, and smirked. "My apartment, my rules. Permanent dibs on the top bunk. Oh, come on," he said as Jack mock-pouted. "You don't want me on top?"
The night they'd spent together flashed before Jack's eyes and he blushed. "We'll keep the bed," he said. "More egalitarian that way."
"Yes, sir," Gabriel said, smiling.
"I'll need clothes, though."
The smirk came back. "Is it not satisfying, getting into my pants after all this time?"
Jack blushed harder, but the reminder of what he was missing cut a bit too deep and he looked away. "No," he said quietly. "It's not."
Scraping sounds; Gabriel moved to the chair next to Jack and scooted closer. One hand on his arm urged Jack silently to take the unspoken offer of comfort and he did, turning to press his face into the warm bulk of Gabriel's shoulder.
"I didn't mean that to hurt," Gabriel said quietly. "I'm still getting used to having you back without almost dying and it's making me say dumb things."
Jack took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I thought you hated me."
Corridor, lit only by the fires behind Gabriel as he looked at Jack with an expression of utter loathing and raised one shotgun. Pain as he fired and the bullet caught him in the side, and then the explosion...
The arms tight around him told Jack that Gabriel was remembering the same thing. "Jack, no," he murmured. "There was a guy behind you. I didn't mean to hit you. I don't blame you for thinking that. I'm sorry."
Wrapping holding that deep wound shut shredded and Jack clung to Gabriel, feeling the warmth of his skin as tears bled from his eyes and one hand rubbed comforting circles into his back. Gabriel didn't hate him. But then in the wake of painful relief came guilt, because the way he'd been acting...keeping himself firmly neutral, leaving as soon as Gabriel was stable...
Oh god, had Gabriel thought Jack hated him?
"Gabe...I'm sorry I was so cold to you."
"Don't," Gabe said firmly. "I don't blame you. You thought I hated you and you came back anyway. I don't know how you have the patience to be so nice," he teased gently. "I would have kicked my ass to the curb a long time ago."
Words stuck in Jack's throat, things like but that would be asking you to change and I love you.
"I knew what you were like," he said instead. "If I'd had a problem with it, you would have known by the end of our first year together."
Gabriel's arms tightened just a little. "You're too fucking nice, Morrison," he growled.
I'd rather be too nice than miss out on something special because I rejected a person based on a few flaws. Jack swallowed those words. "Gabriel...whatever your reasons for being with Talon were, you don't have to talk about them if you don't want to. They don't matter. You don't hate me; that's what matters."
For a long minute Gabriel froze. Then, slowly, he relaxed and the hand on Jack's back resumed rubbing in comforting circles. "I appreciate that," he said slowly.
I appreciate you. "I missed you," Jack whispered, letting the understatement say everything he couldn't.
Gabriel's cheek pressed gently against his head. "I missed you, too."
That confirmation, both that Gabriel cared and that it had hurt watching Jack walk away, shattered what was left of his composure.
"I'm sorry," he choked out between sobs. "I wouldn't have left if I'd known. I thought...I thought I was pushing my luck just being there until you were stable."
"Shhh. Don't beat yourself up, alright?" Gabriel shifted to pull Jack closer, still rubbing his back comfortingly. "It's not like I'm upfront about my feelings."
I lied. The answer was yes.
Too much; Jack focused on taking deep breaths, wrapping himself up tightly again until he was no longer in danger of being broken by the possibility that Gabriel wasn't being upfront about his feelings at that very moment.
"Thank you for being so good to me," Jack said once he was calm again. Gabriel released him, and he sat up to give the other man a small smirk. "Most of the time."
Gabriel smirked back. "You know you wouldn't have it any other way." A beat, and then he said, "So is that a yes on adding Bisquick to the shopping list?"
Jack punched him gently in the shoulder, but they were both laughing.
===
"You really brought nothing with you?" Gabriel asked as he drove them back to the apartment. "That's not like you."
"I left a cache in Russia," Jack answered. "I hadn't even set up a camp yet. I was planning on doing a quick raid for supplies, so I had nothing with me when I saw the Talon ship get hit on the way out. Thought it had gotten away until your beacon went off. Cache was too far away to go back for the biotic emitter; I had to grab what I could and hope it was enough."
Gabriel kept his eyes on the road. "Why did you call for help?"
"Speeder didn't have enough charge to get us back to somewhere safe."
"Hmph. Ziegler give you the third degree for disappearing like that?"
Jack swallowed futile grief at the memory of Gabriel's lifeless face, the lack of a pulse in his neck. He'd stumbled to his office, left his Strike-Commander's jacket folded neatly on his desk as a sign that he was still alive. Then he'd called up the picture of the three of them - him, Gabe, and Ana - and used the blood leaking from his side to mark each of their faces in a grim plea that no one look for him; he was as dead as the other two.
"No," he said quietly.
Gabriel glanced at him, then reached out and took his hand for a brief squeeze. "Hey. Jack. Stay with me. It's okay. I'm alive, you're alive, and there's still enough strawberry shortcake left to gorge yourself on when we get back home."
Home. Gabe's apartment. it didn't really qualify as 'home' for Gabriel, much less Jack, but what did? The officers' quarters in the Zurich HQ? Had Jack even had a home since the crash?
"Jack! Damn it, Morrison, snap out of it!"
Jack shook himself out of the dark spiral his thoughts had gone down. "Sorry."
Gabriel was frowning at him in brief glances as he drove. "I can believe Ziegler didn't interrogate you if you were doing that, and you probably were."
"Is it that bad?" he asked sheepishly.
"You just gave me flashbacks to when you were still in basic. Yes, it's that bad. I'd bring you to a therapist if I thought you'd talk to one, but you've needed one since you were eighteen and it was like pulling teeth to get you to talk to me."
"I may have some issues trusting authority," Jack said dryly, making Gabriel snort.
"You think? I'm amazed you listened to me at all past just obeying orders."
"You looked out for me," Jack said quietly. "You cared. You were the first one who made me feel safe since I was about seven."
Gabriel pulled up to the apartment, parked, and looked at Jack. "Shit. Really? I mean, I know that's when your mom..."
"That's when they found the cancer, yeah." Jack took a deep breath and stared at his hands, fisted on his knees. "Gabe...I know I've told you what my childhood was like. No one stepped in. No one tried to help me. No one looked at a twelve-year-old signing his little sister's permission slips and said 'this shouldn't be happening'. Everyone knew what was going on by the time..." He broke off. Gabriel laid a hand on his and he gripped it tightly. "I had no one to lean on until you sat me down that first time."
Awkwardly, given the constraints of the car, Gabriel leaned over and pulled Jack into as tight a hug as he could manage.
"Remember that time your phone went missing for three hours?" he murmured.
Jack blinked at the change of subject. "Yes?"
"It was me. I said I was looking for it, but I brought it here and copied all your music."
"I didn't think you liked it that much," Jack joked.
Gabriel released him and gave him a look that was trying, and failing, to be a scowl. "It was for you, dumbass! I did it so if I ever brought you here, or if I ever got you a gift that could hold music, I could put all your favorites on it!"
Ignoring the implications of if I ever brought you here, Jack smiled. "That's really sweet of you, Gabe. Thank you."
"And now you have a brand new phone, so get your ass inside and load it up!"
"Just my ass?"
He got a mock-glare for that. "Get that ass moving, Morrison!"
"Yes, sir." A beat, and then Jack added, "So, does this mean you want me to twerk...?"
Laughing at Gabriel's expression, he fled the car without waiting for an answer.
“What’s that?” he asked, just shy of a demand.
“Breakfast,” she answered.
He stood, stretched, and crossed the small room to examine the contents of the tray. Bland, mushy, bleh.
Unacceptable.
“No, it’s not,” he said, taking it from her. “Not for him. Where’s your kitchen? I’ll make it myself.”
“I can’t allow-”
Impatiently, he cut her off. “I’ll clear it with Dr. Ziegler, but I’m preparing his food. Now. Where is your kitchen?”
=
It was relaxing, working with his hands. The familiar scents and textures, the muscle memory linked with sensory memory. Eggs and ham, potatoes and bacon. And, of course, biscuits. He ate two fresh out of the oven, without jam or even butter. They were perfect, and a tiny crumb of peace lodged in his heart as he chased them down with cold milk. Split two, spread them with butter and let it melt. Split two more, butter and strawberry jam. Those never made it to a plate.
With a proper breakfast on the tray, coffee and juice in covered containers, he went back to Reyes’s room.
Reyes was awake and sitting up, although from the lack of worried expression he guessed he hadn’t been awake long.
“Made you breakfast,” he said shortly, suddenly uncertain that this was a welcome thing for him to have done and feeling very self-conscious as he put the tray on a wheeled table and pushed it closer.
“I didn’t know the hospital kitchen was stocked with Bisquick,” Reyes said casually.
He froze. Reyes froze, looking at him, lips forming a teasing smile but eyes begging him silently to laugh.
Bisquick. Their old pattern. He felt something in him stretch, trying to respond to that teasing smile, like a rusted mechanism struggling to move again. He didn’t quite smile, but his lips twitched.
“If you’d rather have the plain oatmeal I can call the nurse back…”
“Nonono I take it back.”
Reyes reached for the table and he pushed it within reach before sitting down again. He watched Reyes eat, packing the food away like he’d been on cold rations for the last month and occasionally shooting him worried looks.
“You did eat, right?” Reyes asked warily.
“Yeah.”
“Okay. Good.”
Once Reyes was done eating, he pushed the table out of the way and moved his chair back to beside the bed.
“Jack…”
“Hm?”
Reyes took his hand gently. “I know I’ve got no room to speak, but are you okay?”
How do you describe the sensation like your world is falling apart and taking you with it, and only by ignoring the things you care about can you hold yourself together? He shuddered briefly, remembering root beer floats and the warm, solid comfort of Reyes’s shoulder, but he was wrapped too tightly to even let himself yearn for that.
“I’m tired,” he sighed. “I’ll…go let Ziegler know you’re awake. Need the bathroom before I do?”
Reyes shook his head, looking like he wanted to say something but was chewing on the words instead.
“Okay. I’ll be back.”
He left the room.
===
"You have an apartment," he said as the taxi pulled up to the row of single-story townhouses. He wanted to be incredulous, but that was more energy than he had and he sighed instead. "Of course you do."
That was the extent of his commentary until they were inside. It looked, to be honest, like the kind of place you take someone to fuck. The couch was wide and covered in soft leather, and Reyes shoved him gently at it.
"Take a nap," he said firmly. "You look like you need to sleep for a week and I know for a fact there's nothing to eat here, so crash on my couch while I go grocery shopping."
He wanted to protest, the impulse grating inside him that he couldn't rest he had things to - but he wasn't a kid anymore. No one was depending on him.
I'm your CO, Morrison, you're supposed to be able to lean on me. It's in my fucking job description.
But he didn't want to be a burden.
He looked at Reyes, intending to protest, and saw worry in the depths of those dark eyes. The words dried up in his throat and he nodded instead.
The couch was soft and cool. He laid his head on a throw pillow and closed his eyes.
=
"Wake up," a voice ordered.
Adrenaline surged briefly, giving him the strength to open his eyes and sit up, but then it left him there with a head full of fog trying to remember where he was and why.
"Get in here," Reyes called in a tone that brooked no argument.
He followed Reyes's voice into the kitchen - pale and sterile - and found the man standing with his arms crossed in front of a round wooden table. He opened is mouth to ask a question, but Reyes nodded towards a chair.
"Sit."
He sat, and discovered that Reyes's body had been blocking a large, frosted mug filled with bubbly brown liquid and pale, creamy lumps.
"Drink that," Reyes said firmly.
A long-handled spoon and a bendy straw had been shoved into the mug, between scoops of ice cream. Slowly, he reached for the mug and pulled it closer. A root beer float. Reyes made him a root beer float. Reyes was worried about him. The straw trembled in his hand and he let go, uncertain that he'd be able to swallow even if he got any of it in his mouth.
Reyes sat beside him and slid his chair closer. The wrapping holding him tight was unraveling. He turned and pressed his face into Reyes's shoulder, felt muscles shift as Reyes wrapped an arm around him.
You're supposed to be able to lean on me.
He trembled, tightness coming undone, mental bandages coming loose and spilling emotional guts all over the floor of Reyes's booty-call kitchen. It hurt, everything that had happened. The deaths. The destruction. Losing Reyes. It hurt, but Reyes was here, arms wrapped around him, and all he could do was draw in one shaky breath after another, letting them out in shuddering exhalations. Reyes was here. He could lean on Reyes.
Jack pressed his face into Gabriel's shirt, feeling all the things he hadn't let himself feel and trying not to cry. Eventually, he was empty. The black void inside him merged with the darkened kitchen and Jack gratefully ceased to exist.
===
He woke up in a darkened room, on a bed with dark sheets, under a velour blanket. Stretching his arms out only proved the bed was big enough for two people, and that he was in it alone. Then memory came back, and Jack frowned. He was in Gabriel's secret apartment, in Gabriel's bed? Jack sat up and examined the covers. There were two pillows, but the other one was still plumply smooth. Also, he was wearing nothing but briefs and Gabriel had left clothes for him on the chair by the bathroom door.
Well, he could take a hint.
One hot shower later, he emerged from the bedroom wearing a pair of broken-in jeans and one of Gabriel's t-shirts to see his host curled up on the couch in a pair of sweatpants, back to the room, hugging a throw pillow and breathing deeply.
He was sleeping on the couch. He'd slept on the couch. He'd put Jack to bed in his bed and then slept on the couch.
Jack's insides squirmed. To silence the whispers of guilt and longing, he went to the kitchen and investigated the groceries Gabriel had bought.
Eggs. Flour. Butter. Buttermilk. Bacon.
A moment of checking cabinets turned up mixing bowls and a skillet. Knife and wooden spoon and spatula in a drawer. Good enough. Jack went to work, cutting butter and mixing flour and milk, working by years of experience and texture rather than measuring. Juggling the timing of various things was second-nature, and when the oven timer went off on his biscuits, he had just finished the eggs and the coffee was done.
Gabriel shuffled in and poured himself a mug of coffee, eyes scrunched shut against the light. Jack split and buttered a pair of biscuits, adding them to his plate and setting it on the table before addressing his own breakfast. Gabriel shuffled over to the table and sat. When Jack went to prepare a cup of coffee for himself, he discovered Gabriel'd already done it.
They ate in silence for a minute or two before Jack said hesitantly, "I see you decided not to get Bisquick."
Gabriel snorted but didn't look up. "Didn't want to make it too easy for you."
Too easy? Like making biscuits the right way was hard? Like he would ever touch that garbage in the first place? He'd go without biscuits before he used that crap! Jack's jaw clenched in indignation and he looked up, about to give Reyes a piece of his mind, only to discover Reyes watching through his lashes for Jack's reaction. When he saw that Jack had taken the bait, he smirked and then took a healthy bite of butter-soaked biscuit.
The anger popped, leaving Jack off-balance and feeling foolish. Of course Gabriel had only been trying to rile him up. It had just been so long that he'd forgotten what that give-and-take was like. He let his eyes drop back to his plate.
"You slept on the couch," he said quietly.
Gabriel snorted again. "I'm sorry, Jack, did you want to sleep on the couch?"
He ignored the sarcasm. "The bed's big enough for two; neither of us has to sleep on the couch. It wouldn't be nearly the most risque thing we've ever done," he added dryly.
"Yeah, but just so you know, this is where I spend the night when I'm getting laid. The only time I sleep here is when I've brought someone back with me."
Jack forced himself to ignore the implications of having been brought here. "And?"
"And you might wake up as the little spoon," Gabriel warned him. "I can't be held responsible if that happens."
"You really think I'd object to that?" Jack asked softly, raising his eyes briefly to Gabriel's, a painful smile playing about his lips. He looked back down before he could see rejection in his best friend's expression, winding himself tighter to hold that years-old bleeding wound shut.
After a minute of strained silence, Gabriel sighed. "Fine. We'll share the bed. Now finish your breakfast so I can do the dishes. Ah," he said as Jack looked up to protest. "Don't even start. You know better than that. You cook, I fucking clean."
But I'm a guest, Jack wanted to say. Gabriel was almost glowering at him, though, waiting for an objection so he could shoot it down. The urge to protest died slowly, smothered under tentative warmth, and Jack only realized he was smiling tiredly when Gabriel's expression shifted to relieved satisfaction.
"We're going food shopping again after breakfast," Gabriel announced as Jack returned to his breakfast. "I can handle bacon, eggs, and things for biscuits. Lunch and dinner is all on you. Unless you want to go out," he added casually.
Jack shook his head. "Too much chance of being recognized. I'll cook."
"Alright. I'll need to pick up some beer, then." Gabriel collected their empty dishes and headed to the sink.
"You've got beer."
"It's been there too long," Gabriel replied almost cheerfully. "We'd need Mercy to save them."
Jack felt a smile tugging at his lips. "I'm not sure she could. And even if she did," he continued as Gabriel chuckled, "would you really want to drink that?"
"Only if it was trying to drink me," Gabriel joked. "There's only one way I'll allow bodily fluids to get sucked out of me, and I'm not about to let a beer give me a blowjob."
"I don't think you have to worry about that, Gabe. It would never be able to get you in, even a wide-mouth can."
At the sink, Gabriel froze. Then he turned to look at Jack over his shoulder, astonishment turning into a broad smile as he saw Jack's. Only then did Jack realize that he'd been bantering with Gabriel, the way they used to.
The way he'd thought they never would again.
Jack's smile turned shy, half of him giddy at reconnecting with Gabriel like this and the other half wanting to retreat in exhausted embarrassment that what had once been effortless now took work and mental energy. Gabriel gave him a brief look of approval and encouragement before turning back around as if embarrassed himself to have been caught showing those emotions.
===
Jack wondered dully, on the way to the store, if the car in the garage space had been paid for by misappropriated Overwatch funds. Thinking about it took too much effort and he gave up, deciding he didn't care. Grocery shopping was dry and tiring, brief phrases exchanged here and there when one of them peeled off to grab something but no more than that. Remembering what equipment he had and had not seen in Gabriel's kitchen, Jack opted for ingredients to make stir-fry and pizza. Gabriel spent a lot of time perusing beers, only to come back with some pouches as well. He didn't meet Jack's eyes as he put them in the cart, and a glance told Jack why: they were pre-made strawberry daiquiris, meant to be frozen and enjoyed at home. On the one hand, strawberry. But on the other hand...
Gritting his teeth, Jack took the cart to the produce section. He didn't drink, and Gabriel knew it.
When he finished selecting peppers and turned back to the cart, someone had added two cartons of strawberries and a package of ladyfingers. Gabriel was, of course, nowhere to be seen. Jack sighed and went over to dairy for a carton of heavy cream, then the baking aisle for sugar and vanilla. Gabriel came back with a box of chocolate-covered frozen strawberries - Jack wasn't sure if he wanted to lunge for them or glare - and put them in the cart with an unrepentant look before going off for god-only-knew-what.
By the time they got to checkout, a bottle of strawberry soda and a small cheesecake covered in strawberries had mysteriously appeared among the rest of the groceries. Gabriel didn't say a word as he scanned the items; Jack didn't say a word as he bagged them. The ride back was silent.
He appropriated the produce while Reyes put away the rest of the groceries, ignoring the other man in favor of a sharp knife and the cutting board. He was halfway through the first pepper when a spoonful of something red and white appeared in front of his face. Annoyed, he ate it, and the sweet tang of strawberry and cheesecake made his hands pause in surprise as the world around him resumed existing. As soon as he swallowed, another spoonful of strawberry cheesecake was in front of him. Somewhere around the third or fourth bite he turned his head to see Gabriel perched cheerfully on the counter, the cheesecake in one hand, offering him yet another spoonful with a grin that was equal parts smug and delighted.
The rest of the stir-fry prep went quickly and deliciously.
=
"Feeling better?" Gabriel asked as he took the lunch dishes over to the sink.
Jack leaned back in his chair and sighed. "Yeah. Sorry about-"
"Don't. Don't apologize." He turned to glare at Jack before returning his attention to the dishes. "You had to have had a shittier week than I did, and I almost died of exposure, so don't you even apologize for not being a ray of fucking sunshine, Morrison!"
"Yes, sir," Jack said with a small smile.
"That's better. Now get over here and check the daiquiri pouches. See if they're frozen."
The warm amusement faded. "Gabe..."
Gabriel moved the last plate to the drying rack and checked the freezer. He took a pouch out, squeezed it, cut the top off and stuck in a bendy straw before setting it down in front of Jack with a stern expression.
"I know," he said in a more gentle tone than his expression suggested. "You don't drink because your dad was a Grade A asswipe. I know you haven't had the best experience with alcohol, but trust me on this, okay? It doesn't have to be getting shitfaced and passing out. It can be just loosening up. You're not going to get drunk on one strawberry daiquiri, especially not on a full stomach. You're going to sip it slowly and relax a little because you're so tense you didn't even drink your root beer float and that worried me, alright? Here," he said, taking the pouch back and grabbing Jack's wrist. "Come with me. To the couch. We'll chill out together."
Jack let himself be pulled to his feet, guilt mixing with warmth that Gabriel was worried about him. He let Gabriel sit him on the couch, sipped tentatively at his frozen drink while some movie played, and thought about the days when sharing a couch inevitably meant one of them with his legs over the arm and his head in the other's lap. Was Gabriel sitting on the other end because he was giving Jack space? Because he was inviting Jack to sprawl on him? Because he was discouraging Jack from getting close? He didn't know, and it was bothering him. The guarded looks Gabriel was shooting at him didn't help and, sulkily, he sipped at the strawberry daiquiri and cursed it silently for tasting so good.
When the pouch was empty, Gabriel stood up and held one hand out in a silent demand for it. Jack let him have it, his eyes somewhere around knee level, and listened as Gabriel went into the kitchen. When he came back, it was with a glass of strawberry soda, an actual strawberry slid onto the straw as an edible decoration.
"If I thought you had any room left," Gabriel said as he handed the glass over, "I would have brought the cheesecake with me."
Gabe cared. That soothed Jack, but what he really needed was something to keep his hands busy.
"Bring me the strawberries," he announced, making Gabriel freeze halfway to sitting down. "And a big bowl, a small bowl, and a paring knife."
Gabriel hesitated, then stood back up. "We didn't wash the strawberries yet," he said slowly. "How about I whip the cream while you do that?"
For a moment, Jack struggled to turn 'whip the cream' into an innuendo. Then he gave up and nodded. "Sure. Thanks."
"I'm counting on you to add the sugar," Gabriel said, grinning.
Jack found himself grinning back. "And the vanilla?"
"Of course."
Movie forgotten, they adjourned to the kitchen for the quiet comfort of preparing food.
=
Working in the kitchen, over a hot stove as he sauteed mushrooms and sausage slices and a little bacon, was hot and thirsty work. He had just put the pizza in the oven and was finishing his second glass of strawberry soda when it occurred to him that the reason it was so cool and fruity was that Gabe had been using daiquiri slush to cool it. He'd known Gabriel was doing that, he'd seen him open the pouches between popping open cans of beer for himself, but he didn't connect that with the alcohol until he already felt...loose. There was worry in Gabriel's eyes as he watched Jack realize he was tipsy, but Jack just set the timer.
Gabe was worried about him. He wouldn't let anything bad happen to Jack, right? He was the only one Jack could lean on.
"Jack, you okay? You're spacing out."
Jack shook his head carefully. "I'm...fine. This is what you wanted to happen, right?"
Gabriel didn't look reassured. "Sit on the couch, Jack. I can take the pizza out and serve it. Do you want more soda? Or..."
"I want what you think I should have," Jack said shortly.
He sat on the couch, sipping slushy soda while Reyes watched him silently, until the timer went off. The sounds of appreciation and compliments were almost background noise. Then Reyes was handing him a plate with two slices, coming back with two more slices for himself and a beer, and lounging on the other end of the couch while the long-forgotten movie from earlier was allowed to continue.
It was good pizza. Jack hadn't had the heart to make it for himself since...the explosion...but he hadn't lost the knack. Gabriel was making enthusiastic sounds as he devoured his slices and washed them down with cold beer.
"I'm getting some more while it's still warm," Gabriel announced. "You still good, Jack?"
Jack looked down at the half a slice he was working on. He always made the same size pizza; they always sliced it into six pieces. Sometimes they each ate three; sometimes Jack had two and Gabriel ate the rest.
"I'm good," he said quietly.
Gabriel came back with the other two slices and another beer. Watching his unabashed enjoyment made Jack feel somehow more human; more like himself. When Gabriel had swallowed the last bite of crust, he put his plate on the coffee table and leaned back with a contented groan that always made Jack think of post-orgasmic bliss.
"I swear, Morrison, I'm going to marry you for your pizza."
The words jolted down his spine, like they always did. It was a ritual almost as long as their friendship, and Jack always countered with reasons they couldn't. I'd have to resign. We'd get court-martialed. We're being attacked by killer robots. You'd have to resign. Petras would have our balls on a silver platter. But this time...this time, there was nothing to counter with. No way to jokingly deny the insincere suggestion he wanted so very much to be sincere.
"Well," he said slowly, "at least neither of us would have to resign?"
"Exactly." Gabriel looked pleased by this.
Jack looked away, drinking alcoholic strawberry and trying to swallow the knot of emotions that brought up. Gabe knew he was wearing their dog tags; knew he'd been wearing their dog tags. Had guessed at the intent because he'd probably seen them the time they went to bed together. Had to know that Jack had...feelings. This wasn't a serious suggestion; it couldn't be, this was just their usual pizza banter. But Jack wanted so much for it not to be, and having that dangled in front of him hurt.
"So let's make it official," Gabriel continued.
Only the fact that Jack had frozen completely saved him from choking. He hadn't - he couldn't have heard that right. He was imagining it, right? Wide-eyed and pulse pounding, he threw a panicky look at Gabriel.
Gabriel looked back in confusion. Then his eyes widened. "Calm down, Morrison," he said firmly. "I'm drunk. Forget I said anything. Let me get you some of that strawberry shortcake we made."
Mutely, Jack let Gabriel take his plate. He came back a minute later, pouring the last pouch of slush into Jack's glass, and then sat down next to him with a huge bowl of ladyfingers layered with sliced strawberries and whipped cream.
"Come on," he urged, tugging Jack closer and putting an arm around him. "Lean against me. Easier on my arms that way."
Still shaky, Jack leaned against Gabriel's chest, simultaneously wishing Gabriel had never seen the dog tags so he wouldn't know how much Jack wanted and this could be their usual innocent comfort, and that Gabriel returned his feelings and this could be everything it had never been. He sipped his drink and let Gabriel feed him delicious sweet-tart strawberries and cool cream and soft cake and pretended to watch the movie when in reality he was feeling warm and floaty and it was getting hard to remember why he shouldn't just enjoy this.
"Relaxed now?" Gabriel asked with quiet amusement as he put the empty bowl aside.
Jack belched, making room for the last sip of strawberry goodness. "Mmm."
"Good. You all comfy?"
He was full of delicious and wanted to lay down. Muzzily, he sat up and pushed at Gabriel until the other man moved the bowl to the table and scooted over. Then he fell over - slowly - to put his head on Gabriel's thigh, and sighed. Now he was comfy. He couldn't see the movie very well, but he didn't care. He was stuffed and floaty and Gabe's arm was draped over his side, hand tangling with his. Jack closed his eyes.
===
Jack woke up as the little spoon, exactly as Gabriel warned might happen, but it made him feel warm and connected the way he hadn't really experienced since they'd gone to bed together 'to see if they clicked' all those years ago. He'd thought they'd clicked, but apparently Gabe hadn't...
No, wait. Gabe said he'd lied. That brought all kinds of implications that stole Jack's breath and shook him to his core, tugging at the wrapping holding that bleeding wound shut. He took slow breaths, carefully ignoring each and every implication, until he was no longer in danger of upending his mental stability.
That's when he realized that Gabriel had morning wood, and that he was again wearing nothing but briefs. He could feel Gabe's hands on his skin, his face pressed to the back of Jack's neck, their legs tangled together as Gabriel slowly ground against him in his sleep. As much as Jack wanted to just lay there drowsily and enjoy the illusion of a deeper relationship, he was remembering Gabriel's drunken assertion that they should make it official and suddenly everything was feeling a little too much like a cruel joke.
Carefully, Jack freed himself from Gabriel's sleepy embrace and fled to take a shower.
Gabriel shuffled into the kitchen, once more in a pair of sweatpants, while Jack was cooking breakfast. He hadn't wanted to poke around in Gabriel's things, so he'd taken a fresh pair of briefs out of the pack in the bathroom and put his borrowed jeans back on and called that good enough. Gabriel poured them coffee and took it to the table, where he sat and sipped until Jack set breakfast down in front of him.
"That wasn't the way I meant it to come out," Gabriel said quietly. "Last night, I mean. But I think we should cohabitate."
Jack gave him a lopsided smile. "Well, it's not like I have anywhere else to go, but are you sure...?"
"This place is too big for one person," Gabriel said firmly. "Trust me, I know. I, uh, turned the other bedroom into a gym, though..."
Suddenly, a budget line item sprang to Jack's mind. "Covert off-site training facility?"
Gabriel looked away and coughed.
"Gabe..." Jack put his fork down and leaned into his hands, laughing. "I want to say I can't believe you, but I know you better than that." He leaned back, grinning broadly and letting his hands drop.
Gabriel had been watching warily from the corner of his eye, but after a moment he grinned back. "So, is that a yes on living together?"
Jack picked his fork up again. "You don't mind sharing your bed?"
"I'm not selling my bed for a pair of singles," he said with an amused snort.
"You sure?" Jack grinned at him. "We could get bunk beds and fight over who gets to be on top."
Gabriel hesitated a second, swallowed what he'd been chewing, and smirked. "My apartment, my rules. Permanent dibs on the top bunk. Oh, come on," he said as Jack mock-pouted. "You don't want me on top?"
The night they'd spent together flashed before Jack's eyes and he blushed. "We'll keep the bed," he said. "More egalitarian that way."
"Yes, sir," Gabriel said, smiling.
"I'll need clothes, though."
The smirk came back. "Is it not satisfying, getting into my pants after all this time?"
Jack blushed harder, but the reminder of what he was missing cut a bit too deep and he looked away. "No," he said quietly. "It's not."
Scraping sounds; Gabriel moved to the chair next to Jack and scooted closer. One hand on his arm urged Jack silently to take the unspoken offer of comfort and he did, turning to press his face into the warm bulk of Gabriel's shoulder.
"I didn't mean that to hurt," Gabriel said quietly. "I'm still getting used to having you back without almost dying and it's making me say dumb things."
Jack took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I thought you hated me."
Corridor, lit only by the fires behind Gabriel as he looked at Jack with an expression of utter loathing and raised one shotgun. Pain as he fired and the bullet caught him in the side, and then the explosion...
The arms tight around him told Jack that Gabriel was remembering the same thing. "Jack, no," he murmured. "There was a guy behind you. I didn't mean to hit you. I don't blame you for thinking that. I'm sorry."
Wrapping holding that deep wound shut shredded and Jack clung to Gabriel, feeling the warmth of his skin as tears bled from his eyes and one hand rubbed comforting circles into his back. Gabriel didn't hate him. But then in the wake of painful relief came guilt, because the way he'd been acting...keeping himself firmly neutral, leaving as soon as Gabriel was stable...
Oh god, had Gabriel thought Jack hated him?
"Gabe...I'm sorry I was so cold to you."
"Don't," Gabe said firmly. "I don't blame you. You thought I hated you and you came back anyway. I don't know how you have the patience to be so nice," he teased gently. "I would have kicked my ass to the curb a long time ago."
Words stuck in Jack's throat, things like but that would be asking you to change and I love you.
"I knew what you were like," he said instead. "If I'd had a problem with it, you would have known by the end of our first year together."
Gabriel's arms tightened just a little. "You're too fucking nice, Morrison," he growled.
I'd rather be too nice than miss out on something special because I rejected a person based on a few flaws. Jack swallowed those words. "Gabriel...whatever your reasons for being with Talon were, you don't have to talk about them if you don't want to. They don't matter. You don't hate me; that's what matters."
For a long minute Gabriel froze. Then, slowly, he relaxed and the hand on Jack's back resumed rubbing in comforting circles. "I appreciate that," he said slowly.
I appreciate you. "I missed you," Jack whispered, letting the understatement say everything he couldn't.
Gabriel's cheek pressed gently against his head. "I missed you, too."
That confirmation, both that Gabriel cared and that it had hurt watching Jack walk away, shattered what was left of his composure.
"I'm sorry," he choked out between sobs. "I wouldn't have left if I'd known. I thought...I thought I was pushing my luck just being there until you were stable."
"Shhh. Don't beat yourself up, alright?" Gabriel shifted to pull Jack closer, still rubbing his back comfortingly. "It's not like I'm upfront about my feelings."
I lied. The answer was yes.
Too much; Jack focused on taking deep breaths, wrapping himself up tightly again until he was no longer in danger of being broken by the possibility that Gabriel wasn't being upfront about his feelings at that very moment.
"Thank you for being so good to me," Jack said once he was calm again. Gabriel released him, and he sat up to give the other man a small smirk. "Most of the time."
Gabriel smirked back. "You know you wouldn't have it any other way." A beat, and then he said, "So is that a yes on adding Bisquick to the shopping list?"
Jack punched him gently in the shoulder, but they were both laughing.
===
"You really brought nothing with you?" Gabriel asked as he drove them back to the apartment. "That's not like you."
"I left a cache in Russia," Jack answered. "I hadn't even set up a camp yet. I was planning on doing a quick raid for supplies, so I had nothing with me when I saw the Talon ship get hit on the way out. Thought it had gotten away until your beacon went off. Cache was too far away to go back for the biotic emitter; I had to grab what I could and hope it was enough."
Gabriel kept his eyes on the road. "Why did you call for help?"
"Speeder didn't have enough charge to get us back to somewhere safe."
"Hmph. Ziegler give you the third degree for disappearing like that?"
Jack swallowed futile grief at the memory of Gabriel's lifeless face, the lack of a pulse in his neck. He'd stumbled to his office, left his Strike-Commander's jacket folded neatly on his desk as a sign that he was still alive. Then he'd called up the picture of the three of them - him, Gabe, and Ana - and used the blood leaking from his side to mark each of their faces in a grim plea that no one look for him; he was as dead as the other two.
"No," he said quietly.
Gabriel glanced at him, then reached out and took his hand for a brief squeeze. "Hey. Jack. Stay with me. It's okay. I'm alive, you're alive, and there's still enough strawberry shortcake left to gorge yourself on when we get back home."
Home. Gabe's apartment. it didn't really qualify as 'home' for Gabriel, much less Jack, but what did? The officers' quarters in the Zurich HQ? Had Jack even had a home since the crash?
"Jack! Damn it, Morrison, snap out of it!"
Jack shook himself out of the dark spiral his thoughts had gone down. "Sorry."
Gabriel was frowning at him in brief glances as he drove. "I can believe Ziegler didn't interrogate you if you were doing that, and you probably were."
"Is it that bad?" he asked sheepishly.
"You just gave me flashbacks to when you were still in basic. Yes, it's that bad. I'd bring you to a therapist if I thought you'd talk to one, but you've needed one since you were eighteen and it was like pulling teeth to get you to talk to me."
"I may have some issues trusting authority," Jack said dryly, making Gabriel snort.
"You think? I'm amazed you listened to me at all past just obeying orders."
"You looked out for me," Jack said quietly. "You cared. You were the first one who made me feel safe since I was about seven."
Gabriel pulled up to the apartment, parked, and looked at Jack. "Shit. Really? I mean, I know that's when your mom..."
"That's when they found the cancer, yeah." Jack took a deep breath and stared at his hands, fisted on his knees. "Gabe...I know I've told you what my childhood was like. No one stepped in. No one tried to help me. No one looked at a twelve-year-old signing his little sister's permission slips and said 'this shouldn't be happening'. Everyone knew what was going on by the time..." He broke off. Gabriel laid a hand on his and he gripped it tightly. "I had no one to lean on until you sat me down that first time."
Awkwardly, given the constraints of the car, Gabriel leaned over and pulled Jack into as tight a hug as he could manage.
"Remember that time your phone went missing for three hours?" he murmured.
Jack blinked at the change of subject. "Yes?"
"It was me. I said I was looking for it, but I brought it here and copied all your music."
"I didn't think you liked it that much," Jack joked.
Gabriel released him and gave him a look that was trying, and failing, to be a scowl. "It was for you, dumbass! I did it so if I ever brought you here, or if I ever got you a gift that could hold music, I could put all your favorites on it!"
Ignoring the implications of if I ever brought you here, Jack smiled. "That's really sweet of you, Gabe. Thank you."
"And now you have a brand new phone, so get your ass inside and load it up!"
"Just my ass?"
He got a mock-glare for that. "Get that ass moving, Morrison!"
"Yes, sir." A beat, and then Jack added, "So, does this mean you want me to twerk...?"
Laughing at Gabriel's expression, he fled the car without waiting for an answer.