Jack and Steve J, backdated to June 7
Jun. 7th, 2014 08:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
om_captain posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
om_mainAfter a rough conversation with his mother, Steve asks Jack to get him drunk. Jack is surprised, but more than happy to oblige - and gets them in a little over their heads.
Drunk times and questionable decisions! Probably a little NSFW >.>
Steve was normally a quiet kid. Sometimes he got angry, sure, but he tried to get it under control quickly. He didn't like angry. He'd done it for so long that it was like a weight against his chest that sometimes made it hard to breathe. In fact, the last time he could remember being angry enough not to try to rein it in had been with Claudia and Jack. The last time until now.
Now he was on the phone with his mother, a call he'd delayed making for as long as possible. He knew she wouldn't want to hear his reasons for staying and, to be honest, he didn't want to give them. If she didn't understand why he couldn't live with her after she'd forgiven the person who'd murdered Olivia, there was no way that telling her a second, third, tenth time was going to make any difference.
At first, the conversation had been subdued. She said how much she missed him, he tried to avoid feeling the same. She asked how his classes were and he said they were fine. It was when she asked him when his classes were over that things started going downhill because they were, of course, already over. Had just ended, in fact, and he hadn't bothered to tell her because he knew that if she knew the date, she'd be in the driveway to the school just as soon as his final class was over.
But it wasn't until he finally told her that he wasn't coming back at all that things went completely wrong.
"Mom, no. For the last time, I'm not coming back. Not now, not--" He teetered over the word. Saying it would change everything and, even if it was true, he wasn't sure he was ready to take that leap yet. He was all set to leave it there, but then she asked why. Why wouldn't he come back, if just to visit? Why would he leave her alone in an empty house?
"You know why!" And that was when his voice started to carry outside the room. "She was the best part of us and that bastard killed her." Louder and louder. "I get trying to move on. That's what I'm trying to do right now. I'm trying to live my life. What I can't understand, what I can't accept? You forgave him!" And now he was shouting.
"It wasn't self-defense, it wasn't an accident. He just shot her! And you're treating it like it doesn't matter." No matter how many times he rolled the idea around in his head, he couldn't understand it. He was still so angry. So hurt. And if anything, how he treated Claudia was proof that he was as messed up now as he had been back then, if not even more so.
When are you coming home? He flinched at her words and another wave of anger crashed into him.
"I'm not. I don't even know that I can look at you, let alone try to make small talk to fill the silence. I'm staying here and I'll graduate and move away and you'll never have to see me again." He'd never have to see her again and remember.
Jack had been heading for Steve's room anyways, but when he heard the shouting, he quickened his stride. He knocked once, but when Steve didn't answer Jack let himself in (glad that the door was usually left unlocked during the day). It took him only a few seconds to figure out what was going on. Shutting the door behind him, he crossed his arms over his chest and watched with a heavy expression, waiting for the call to finish.
"No!" Steve shouted. "There's nothing you can say. We've already said it. I'm staying here. I'm working. I'm going to school. I'm done, Mom." He hung up and threw the phone against the wall before running a hand through his hair. He didn't even seem to see Jack, lost in his own thoughts as he was.
Jack let him have a moment, still watching quietly. This certainly explained Steve's recent bad mood. Not wanting to startle the other boy if he really hadn't noticed him yet, Jack said, "So... what's going on?"
Steve jerked at the unexpected noise and turned to stare at Jack. "When in the hell did you get here?"
Looking thoughtful, Jack said, "After the shouting started, but before the phone-throwing." The humor was thin at best; he really was worried. More seriously, he added, "You okay?"
"Not really," Steve muttered. "My mother wants me to go home for the summer." Which wasn't happening. Not in this life.
Jack didn't reach for him or try to comfort him. If touch would help, Steve would come to him. For now, he probably needed some space. Frowning, Jack waited for Steve to catch his eyes. "And you said no?" he prompted.
"No way I'm going back there." Before, he'd had to stay because he was a minor and didn't have anywhere else to go. Though not long before the before, he hadn't known of any reason to be away from his mom. Now was different than before.
"Well, you know I'm glad," Jack said almost offhandedly, since that had absolutely nothing to do with anything. "But that seemed to be about a lot more than that."
"Oh, just that she decided to forgive the person who killed Livvy." Steve wasn't sure when, but he'd started pacing. He didn't want to stop. He also wanted something to punch and his boyfriend probably wasn't the best solution.
All the muscles along Jack's jaw tightened, but Steve was too busy to notice the effect his words had. Jack had never seen him this worked up before, but it all made a sick sense. He felt nauseous; it was like the ghosts of his family had just clawed out of that place where he kept them buried.
He forced those thoughts away. Steve was still pacing. "How can I help?" There really wasn't much to be done, but he could try. "Danger room session? Sparring?" He smirked a bit. "Get you drunk?"
Steve answered before he could think about it too hard. "Drunk." Sparring could help with the feeling his skin was going to split apart, but being drunk might mean he'd forget all about this conversation, at least for a little while.
"...wait, seriously?" Jack had been mostly joking (not because he didn't like the idea, but because Steve didn't really drink). "You sure?"
"Yeah." He took a breath and let it out slowly. "Yeah, I'm definitely sure."
Jack didn't question it, just nodded in response. "Go out for the distraction, or grab a bottle and lock the door?" It'd be Jack's door - now that he'd graduated, he'd moved into his own room in the staff dorm. "If there's a bar or club you want to hit in town, I can get us in."
"If we go to the club," Steve said, "I'll probably get into a fight." And that threw the decision right back into Jack's court. Because he would go and a part of him liked the idea of being drunk with Jack in the middle of loud music and a pulsing beat, but he'd probably wind up with bruised knuckles and a bloody lip at some point. Of course, if Jack was okay with that...
Jack smirked in amusement, but there was something gentle about it. If Steve had that much pent up, maybe they could deal with it on the dance floor - and at the gay club in town, no one would look twice if 'dealing' involved making out like the world was ending. One way or another, Jack was sure he could get Steve's mind off of this. Besides, he liked the glint in Steve's eye.
Raising an eyebrow at Steve, Jack said, "Out it is. Meet you in the garage in ten minutes." He turned to the door, then added (only half-teasing), "And if you need to punch someone that badly, make sure it's me. Other people's noses won't unbreak themselves."
* * *
Steve had this image of what you were supposed to look like when you went out to a club and, though most of his clothes wouldn't work, he had a few things that would work. A few things he'd pretty much grown out of but still kept in his wardrobe because he was saving up for a car and couldn't really afford to buy more. He put a little gel in his hair - a standby for when his hair was a little too long - and ran his fingers through it. And then he looked at himself. Yes. This was the person he wanted to be tonight. Anything but his mother's son. He grabbed his keys, wallet, and headed to the garage.
Jack was waiting by one of the school cars (he could DD - drink as much as he wanted, then trigger his mutation and he'd auto-sober to drive). He'd only gone back to his room to change quickly, into a tighter t-shirt and the jeans that made his ass impossible to miss. Another night he might not have bothered, but it would definitely help get them in, and maybe get them a few free drinks tonight. And honestly, they were both on tight budgets (no paycheck until he finished training and officially joined the staff), so 'free' was a real perk.
Especially since the mission was to get Steve drunk. Which, yeah, was a somewhat questionable mission, but Jack wasn't going to argue; he also wasn't really going to discuss it with Steve. No way to avoid his own family issues - and since those issues made him want to drink too, a night out was exactly what they both needed.
As Steve approached, Jack couldn't help being a little impressed. He let out a low whistle. "I'm taking you out more often."
But Steve knew that most nights, he wouldn't be doing this. At least not the way his over-active imagination was showing him. So most nights, he'd probably go out and have a dance or two and come back. Most nights. Tonight was not anything near 'most'. He walked up until he was just barely touching Jack and smirked.
"Are you sure you're going to want everyone to see me after this?" he asked and then pushed away before Jack could do anything and got into the passenger's seat.
Jack was surprised, but, well... Pleasantly. Steve was absolutely looking for trouble, and Jack was pretty sure that wasn't supposed to be such a turn on...
But he was only human. Swinging around to the driver's side, he just gave Steve a promising grin and started the car.
It wasn't long until they were outside - and then inside - the club. Steve wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know what kind of magic Jack worked because, the last time he'd checked, he didn't have a fake ID. Not unless Jack had made one for him. But they got inside and they got a drink. Steve was tempted to stick with beer, at first, but he didn't really get buzzed after even one beer and they were both on a budget, so he let Jack make the decision on what they were drinking. Clearly he was the more experienced. Instead, he just let the steady thump of the music seep into his bones. It was relaxing on some level.
Jack had charmed their way in (easy enough, he knew the bouncer), and was now working his magic with the bartender. Even from a distance, Steve looked tense and angry, so a quick fib about why that was and an imploring look at the bartender earned him a pair of free shots with their drinks.
Making his way carefully back to Steve, two house specialty drinks and two shot glasses carefully balanced, he handed him one of each. "Alright, you want to get drunk, this is how you do it. Shot first, chase it with the drink. It's the house specialty, and there's a ton of booze under all that fruit juice."
Down to two glasses, he leaned up against the wall next to Steve with a grin, adding, "By the way, the bartender thinks you're mad at me and I'm trying to win you back over." He couldn't help a smirk of amusement. "Failing that, he told me what time his shift ends."
Steve stared at Jack. He knew an attempt to get a rise out of him when he saw it and, usually, he wouldn't accept the bait. But mischief had him tight in hand and he lifted his glass in Jack's direction and drank. "If you take him up on it, I'll just have to see about taking up my own offers." Not that he really expected there to be any that weren't from Jack.
"But feel free to try to win me over," he said and started on the other drink.
Impressed, Jack took his own shot (Jack Daniels), then smirked back, willing to play this game. "Hey, I bought you a drink, didn't I?" For his part, Jack was certain that Steve would attract interest, and offers if he played his cards right - a thought which caused a serious twinge of jealousy that he tried to ignore. This was all hypothetical. Seriously hypothetical, given how far he and Steve hadn't gotten yet... Still. He took a sip of his drink and gave Steve a mischievous look. "The bartender's definitely Plan B."
"So it's my job to make sure he's Plan C? Or D or E or Z? Maybe see if I can get that plan off the list altogether." Another long sip as he studied Jack, a smile playing around the corners of his lips. "I think I can manage that."
Jack knew that hungry expression, and loved the way it looked on Steve, here in the darkness of the club with the music pounding away. The anger and aggression was still there, beneath the surface, but Jack had Steve's full attention - and he had some really, really fantastic ideas about how to channel that aggression.
He knew he should say something about how Plan B wouldn't be needed if Plan A went well, or something cheesy about how Steve already was plans A-Z. Instead, he let some of his own hunger show in the edge of his grin. "Good."
"I thought you'd be in favor," Steve said, having another sip that left him with less than have of his drink left. Flirting with Jack, that was something he could do. Jack always knew how to distract him in ways that left him hungry and aching to just forget his 1800 morals which was really more fear of the unknown. He was anything but afraid tonight.
Leaning in close to Steve's ear, ostensibly so he wouldn't have to talk so loud over the music (but really so Steve would feel his breath on his neck), Jack asked, "So, what's your plan then?"
Steve slid a hand onto Jack's chest and tilted his head that much closer in. "Have another drink. Head out to the dance floor. Dance with the first person who finds me."
Jack's hand possessively found Steve's belt, and he tugged on it to pull Steve's hips closer. "Trying to make me jealous?"
Steve chuckled. "Only if it's working." He didn't feel nearly as sure as he seemed to be making Jack feel and so he pressed the hand on Jack's chest. "Go get me another drink and we'll see whether I'm telling the truth or not." Liquid courage, that's what he'd heard it called, and he could use some about now.
Jack grinned and downed his own drink in one move. "Yes sir."
Then he headed back to the bar, well aware of the view of his ass that Steve was getting as he leaned in to get the bartender's attention.
And oh, did Steve appreciate the view. By the time Jack got back from getting their drinks, Steve had his own admirer, but he was some guy that he was only half paying attention to. Once Jack actually hit Steve's line of sight again, the only thing Steve was paying attention to was him. "Nice view from the front, too," he said.
Jack cracked a grin, and handed Steve a bright blue drink. "Easy on this one - too much too fast and you'll be puking instead of dancing." He slid in a little closer to Steve than was strictly necessary. "Who's your friend?"
"Friend?" Steve repeated, a frown on his face until he saw the direction Jack was glancing. "Well," he said, smiling slowly, "you had the bartender..." Thought it was clear that Steve had already forgotten the guy had even been there.
Jack let Steve try his drink - an AMF - but then he leaned over to catch his lips, somehow both possessive and gentle as he interrupted that mischievous smile. He didn't overdo it; kissing in public wasn't exactly common for them, and he didn't want to make Steve too uncomfortable, but somehow he'd needed it. And he didn't want to give up the proximity, either. Maybe it was the first round of drinks racing through him and heating up his blood, but he didn't really care.
"I told you he was Plan B," Jack murmured by Steve's ear, making it clear that Plan A was what he really wanted.
Steve licked his lips when Jack let go. Much better than the alcohol, even if each sip seemed to be making the night's events blur a little more. Made it seem as if not even an hour ago had really been forever ago. He took a deeper sip despite Jack's warning. He wanted to be out on that dance floor with everyone else. With Jack. "Well, maybe I'm making my own Plan B." He glanced around, but the guy had already left and he couldn't find it in himself to care.
Steve may have lost sight of the other guy, but Jack hadn't. With what he easily recognized as petty satisfaction, Jack had watched him frown in disappointment and move off to try his luck elsewhere. Which was childish, he knew, and so unlike him; he wasn't the jealous type. Rolling his eyes at himself, Jack placed a quick kiss on Steve's neck before telling him, "Don't," in his most promising tone. Then he made himself pull away to start on his own drink.
Something warm settled in Steve's chest when he saw the look Jack was giving the guy who'd vanished and he had to hide his smile by taking another drink. Every time he thought he'd learned everything there was to know about Jack, every time Steve thought he had him pegged, he went and did something like this.
"If you keep talking like that," he said softly, "maybe I won't."
Jack grinned into his own drink, forcing himself to drink it slowly. He turned so they were both looking out over the dark room, watching as the dance floor started to fill up. "So, what do you think?"
Steve followed Jack's eyes again and he glanced at his drink and then Jack's. "Hot. Very hot." And then he took another long, encouraging sip.
Seriously, Jack knew that this should make him worry. The way Steve was downing his drinks, those taunting comments, the way he was pushing his boundaries-- it just wasn't like Steve. Usually, Steve would hold back, or be more cautious or, well, sensible, reprimanding Jack for this kind of behavior. And it wasn't that Jack wasn't worried, even.
It was just that it kept turning him on.
As soon as they were both done with their drinks - and Steve kept egging Jack on to finish his faster - Steve grabbed Jack's hand and headed them out into the crowd. The entire room seemed about twenty degrees hotter than it'd been when they'd first showed up, but he was fine. He was more than fine because he'd stopped arguing with that inner voice that kept telling him that this was a mistake and wasn't him.
So instead of running in terror, he leaned back against Jack when they were somewhere in the crowd.
Jack didn't even think of protesting, just hummed in approval and pulled Steve's hips to his, moving them with the music. He'd been drinking slow just to drive Steve crazy, so now he leaned in to tease Steve's ear with his teeth, just a bit. "Better?"
"Yes." Steve let him think that was all to the answer for a long beat. And then, "Please. I know you can do better than that." And then he moved his hips in what was probably an embarrassing way, but the side effect of the alcohol was that he didn't care how he looked, only what it made Jack feel.
With a low, dark chuckle, Jack murmured, "Well if that's what you want..." He locked his hands on Steve's hips again, holding them together as he rocked his hips in a slow, sensuous way, like sin itself, showing Steve how to move with him. It left them both a little breathless, and for added effect, Jack let his thumbs slide up under Steve's shirt, brushing against the skin there.
Steve's stomach tightened at the touch. Instead of the usual mix of hunger and nervousness, all he felt was hunger. He tilted his head back and glanced at Jack. "You going up? Or down." And the way his hips pressed back against Jack, it was obvious that he had a very marked preference.
"Definitely both," Jack replied. Without interrupting that irresistible rhythm in their hips, he slid one hand up, over Steve's stomach, finger nails teasing a light trail across his ribs. The other hand started teasing along the line of Steve's pants, not dipping under yet, just building the anticipation.
Steve chuckled. Of course Jack would take the least expected route. He turned his head and reached back, catching the back of Jack's head with his hand and pulling him close enough to kiss. He had to admit, Jack was an excellent distraction when he wanted to be. And he was still good distraction when he wasn't intending to be. Steve was pretty sure it was the former at the moment.
It was the club, and it was the booze, and it was the fact that Jack hadn't touched anyone in ages, and he'd wanted to touch Steve for so long… As time wore on, one stolen kiss turned into a dark corner and kisses that would leave marks, the dancing disintegrating to just hips grinding in need.
When Jack finally pulled away, panting and moaning in frustration because they were at the limits of what could be done here on the dance floor (and the limits of what Steve had previously allowed), it was only because he couldn't stand it anymore. He placed a kiss on a mark so red and raw that it would sting, just to hear and feel Steve groan in pain and pleasure, then pulled away. "I…" he paused to nip at Steve's ear, unable to quit all at once. "…need another drink."
Before Steve could pull his shattered thoughts together enough to protest, Jack was gone and Steve was left to wonder what in the hell he'd done wrong. He'd been lost in their own little universe for long enough that he'd all but forgotten that there were things outside of them. And he didn't even know why Jack had stopped when things had been so...good.
He tilted his head back against the wall - when had they moved there? - and closed his eyes, trying to figure out what it was that he'd done. His eyes shot open and a smile was already on his lips when he felt a hand on his hip. The smile froze when he realized that the hand didn't belong to Jack.
"Interested in picking up where he left off?" the guy said, responding to Steve's smile with one of his own.
"No," Steve answered flatly, pushing the guy's hand away.
The guy's smile only got wider. "Cold fish, huh? Maybe I should go help him out, then."
Shock seized Steve for a minute and then anger ate the shock away when the guy stepped back as if he was planning on following through with his suggestion. He took a step forward as if he was going to follow the guy, put two hands to his chest, and shoved.
"What's your problem?" the guy asked, shoving Steve back.
In return, Steve punched him and that was how it started. And just like that, he'd regained the kind of high he'd been feeling with Jack. The lure of flesh against flesh, just with more bruises.
People started trying to break up the fight almost immediately, and Jack was among them. He'd abandoned his wait at the bar as soon as he saw fists start to fly. He was pulling Steve back, trusting the other patrons to get the stranger under control, but he couldn't seem to get a good hold on his boyfriend (and through the tipsy haze of his thoughts, he was well aware that alcohol was probably to blame).
It wasn't until Steve's elbow caught him hard in the nose that his thoughts started coming clearer. There was a moment of sharp pain, and the feeling of a nosebleed starting, but just as quickly it disappeared - as did the inebriated buzz in his head. This time he grabbed Steve with much more purpose, wrapping his arms around his chest and yanking him away from the fight, and heading him toward the door. They definitely had to get moving, before they got thrown out.
"That's enough," he growled in Steve's ear, trying to snap him out of it. A bouncer was headed for them. "We're going," Jack snapped at the guy, trying again to pull Steve toward the door.
The growl definitely snapped something into him, but it wasn't sense. It made him want to dig in his heels and confront Jack. And so he did, just by the time they reached the bar. He shot a smile at the bartender, remembered the way Jack had talked about him earlier, and then replaced the smile with a scowl and turned a narrowed-eyed look at Jack.
"Maybe I should stay," he said, "and get to know your friend over there a little better."
"We're about to get thrown out of here," Jack told him, really not understanding what the hell was happening. Things had been so good when he left, so good he hadn't been able to stand it. What had changed? "My friend over there could call the cops on us, and then we could have this chat in a jail cell. Or, we could get outside now, and figure it out from there." Jack let go of him to make his point. "Your call."
Steve jerked his arm away from Jack's hand and started heading for the door. Fuck, things had been so good and then that guy. "You don't need to babysit, Jack." He rolled his shoulders and glanced around once they'd reached fresh air. Maybe there was some other place he could go. Probably no other gay bar, though. He flicked an eye at Jack speculatively.
Jack caught up with him outside, and almost immediately had his hands on Steve again, this time checking for damages. "It's not babysitting," he murmured, tilting Steve's head to examine a bruise, "but you're drunk and I'm not." He met his squirming boyfriend's eyes as his thumb brushed the red, rising mark. He sighed, a wry smile breaking through the concern on his face. "Guess you weren't kidding about that fight..."
A flash out of the corner of his eye and, when he glanced over, Steve saw the guy leaving. He scowled again and turned back to Jack. "I am not a cold fish," he muttered and promptly caught Jack's face in his hands and kissed him.
It took Jack a moment to piece together what Steve had said, distracted as he was. Once he did, though, he just gave in to the kiss even more. Whatever Steve needed to prove to himself tonight, Jack was in and then some. He kissed Steve soundly up against the wall of the club (carefully catching the back of his head before it hit the bricks), and rocked his hips in approval when Steve slid his hands into the back pockets of his jeans and tugged him closer. The message couldn't have been clearer - Jack shouldn't have left in the first place.
Not a mistake he planned to make twice. After a few minutes of extremely blatant PDA, during which Steve was anything but cold, Jack eased off, moving his kisses down Steve's jaw and to his neck. "Shall we..." Jack rocked his hips again, "take this back to my place?"
Steve groaned and tilted his head back, gripping his fingers tightly into Jack's back. Sometime - he wasn't sure when or how - his hands had migrated under Jack's shirt and he was now gripping the other boy for dear life. The last thing he wanted was for him to go anywhere. The last thing he wanted to do at all was move, but he supposed he had to.
Still, he had to make the offer. "Only if we have to." And then he dragged his teeth across Jack's neck to emphasize the point that he didn't mean not staying with Jack.
Jack released a breath that was inches away from being a groan as he slowly pulled back to meet Steve's eyes. "Oh yeah, we have to."
* * *
After what had to be the longest car ride ever, Jack and Steve made their way back to Jack's room (slowly, and with much making out along the way). Still sober, it had been Jack's plan to indulge in the make-outs and basically keep an eye on Steve for the rest of the night. No way he was going to take advantage of his drunk boyfriend; Steve had made it clear in the past that he wanted first times to be special, and had been putting the brakes on for ages.
What Jack hadn't planned for was the in-house drinking. Unhappy with the feeling of sobering up, the first thing Steve did when they got through the door was head for the closet where Jack had a large bottle of rum hidden. It took a little persuading, but Jack eventually gave in, fixing a pair of rum and cokes (in exchange for Steve downing a large glass of water to deter a hangover), and even taking a few 'catch-up shots' because apparently Steve could talk him into just about anything at the moment...
...which probably had something to do with the fact that resisting the whole 'taking advantage' thing was taking most of his willpower, and more alcohol provided a welcome distraction...
"You are going to hate me so much in the morning," Jack was telling him, watching him down the rum and coke. Those shots he'd taken were burning quickly through him, and he sat down on the bed to enjoy the buzz, smirking. "But I'm remembering this forever."
While they'd been at the club, Steve had managed to avoid doing anything to make himself cooler. But oddly since getting back into a room that should have been cooler, he was actually feeling hotter than he'd been at the club. He grabbed at the back of his shirt, tugged up, and peeled the shirt off of himself.
"Myself, maybe," Steve said with a laugh. He'd never really had a hangover before, but he'd heard about them. And it would be his own fault because he'd asked for it, not Jack's for giving it to him. "But we might as well have fun before that happens."
Jack blinked in surprise. Well that had never happened before. Jack had only gotten Steve's shirt off once, and even that had been after much persuasion.
Also, that time there weren't bruises forming on Steve's ribs. The bright red marks caught Jack's eye, making something twinge in his chest that he couldn't quite make sense of, like anger and lust. His eyes traveled slowly back up Steve's torso, catching briefly on his much-abused lips before finding his eyes again. "Come here."
Steve's tongue darted out when he felt Jack's gaze on his lips and he licked them briefly and then he followed Jack's instruction. But instead of sitting on the bed, he grasped Jack's thighs, spread them apart, and made a space for himself between them. "You wanted me?" he asked, innuendo as thick in his voice as he'd ever heard in Jack's.
"Yes," Jack murmured, before he could think better of it. His hands were already tracing over Steve's skin, skimming around the rising bruises, gently, but so Steve would know he saw them. Feeling Steve's breath catch under his touch, he leaned in to start placing kisses on the exposed skin. He probably shouldn't, he knew that - he was only going to make it harder to stop later - but he'd been resisting for so long that he couldn't have stopped himself.
Steve threaded a hand through Jack's hair and shivered. The bruises weren't quite hurting yet, but he knew from experience that they would be soon. Except that Jack's hands were gentle over his skin and his lips even more so. Usually he would have appreciated it, but now it was making his skin itch for more than it was getting.
"More," he found himself urging, tightening his fingers a little in Jack's hair.
Jack breathed a dark chuckle against Steve's skin, then nipped at his navel while one hand worked up his chest to tease a nipple. Meanwhile, his mouth found a spot that made Steve groan and started working it, hard. And still he knew he should stop, shouldn't be making things worse-- but with Steve's hand in his hair like that, tugging with need (need Jack could see starting to strain at his jeans), and God, it felt so good to finally have Steve here, to be making him moan like he'd wanted to...
But Steve wasn't content to just take what Jack was doing to him. He pushed Jack back enough so that, when he grabbed at Jack's shirt and tugged - it came up rather easily. And then he pushed Jack even more, but this time, Steve came along for the ride. There was a bit of a smirk around his lips as he dragged his teeth along Jack's jaw. If Jack thought he was playing nice now that they were back in the room, he was wrong. That dark urge that had held him through the fight was still more than present and it had just found another outlet: Jack himself.
Back on the bed, shirtless, and with Steve on top of him, Jack couldn't help a happy groan as Steve set to work. For about the hundredth time that night, he cursed the tightness of his jeans (nevermind how great they made his ass look), but was still happy to bask in Steve's hungry attention for the moment. ...mostly. His hands kept moving over bare skin, naturally finding sensitive spots and teasing them.
"What am I going to do with you?" he murmured in Steve's ear. He knew what he wanted to do, of course (roughly everything), which was the tease in the question. But he also knew that Steve wasn't in his usual state of mind tonight, that he was hurting underneath all this.
"If you don't have a few dozen ideas," Steve answered, "then you're not the person I thought I knew." He rubbed himself against Jack purposefully. "How about we get started on a few?"
God, so tempting, but... "You're drunk," Jack pointed out, breath catching. Of course, he wasn't exactly sober himself.
Steve leaned in to kiss Jack and ended up humming an agreement on his lips. "I knew about the fight," he reminded Jack. "What makes you think I wasn't planning for this, too?"
Jack's hands were on the bare skin of Steve's hips. He knew there were lines he shouldn't cross, but the details were completely hazy now. Jack smirked into their next kiss. "That might worry me more." He kissed him again and tugged on his hips, urging Steve forward and onto the bed, onto Jack, straddling his hips. "Y'know, if it wasn't such a turn on."
Steve slid a hand between them to feel just how turned on Jack was. And then he just had to get a good grip. He didn't want Jack to have any doubts. Or at least none that he was planning on acting on, just like he had pushed all of his doubts into the background somewhere.
"I see what you mean," he said with a grin.
Jack bit his lip. Slow and controlled, he rocked up into Steve's hand. "And if you were sober," he said, voice breathy, "I'd be telling you to do anything you want, to take anything you want."
Securing a grip on Steve's hips, Jack rolled them smoothly so Steve was beneath him, then started moving them toward the center of the bed. "But you're not," he continued, now punctuating with kisses threading down Steve's arm, down to his chest. "So instead, I'm going to tell you to just... enjoy." Because that was the compromise that Jack's tipsy mind had come to: he wouldn't let Steve do anything he might regret, but Jack? He knew he wouldn't regret anything he was about to do. One hand dropped to the button of Steve's pants and tugged there, but he looked to Steve, still waiting for permission. "Think you can do that?"
Steve frowned as he struggled to think through what Jack was saying. What he was implying. And then, when he thought he had a grasp on it, his frown grew deeper and he shook his head violently enough that the room spun a little. "Only if I get to do the same thing." He didn't want this to be about Jack taking fucking pity on him.
"Not tonight," Jack told him. He'd worked his way down Steve's body, and was kissing just below his belly button now, but he hadn't done anything with Steve's pants yet. "Don't worry," he continued, with his sexiest smirk. "I'm going to take care of both of us tonight." A hot breath and a brush of his lips, right at the edge of Steve's pants, guaranteed to make him squirm. "After all, I've got two hands." And one very, very talented mouth that he couldn't wait to put to work.
He just needed Steve to say yes...
Jack wasn't playing fair, not that it should have been any surprise to Steve. But now he was playing even more not fair than usual. He was trying to distract Steve and, damn him, it was almost working. He stared at the ceiling and, for a moment, his resolve wavered. What harm would it do? Really? But that wasn't what he wanted and Jack kept telling him to enjoy.
"Only if I get to do the same thing," he repeated, more breathless than the last time he'd opened his mouth.
"Can't hear you," Jack lied into Steve's skin, unabashedly torturing him now, loving how ragged Steve's voice was. His fingers were opening the button of Steve's jeans, slowly.
Steve made a frustrated sound in the back of his throat that he told himself wasn't a growl, gripped Jack's hair again, and this time yanked on it hard enough that he hoped it hurt. "I said only if I get to do the same thing."
Well that got Jack's attention. He moved back up Steve's body until they were eye to eye again (and tried not be too distracted by the blown pupils, or the way Steve was nearly panting, air slipping through pink lips--) and found he couldn't actually say 'no'. Not with Steve looking at him like that. Despite the hot brush of skin on skin, and the haze of the alcohol in his system, Jack looked at him seriously.
"Nothing you'll regret," Jack said, hand sliding up his chest. "Promise me that."
Steve had to struggle to keep his wits about him after that. He had to close his eyes against the urge to just say 'fuck it' and forget all about promises and regrets. "Won't," he managed after a minute. "Won't regret."
"Good," Jack breathed against his lips. "Me either." Something had changed, but something good, and there was nothing for it but to kiss him breathless all over again. No going back now - they both needed this, completely and absolutely, and Jack was done fighting.
Propping himself on one elbow, Jack started working his lips down Steve's body again, but he used his free hand to find the one Steve didn't have tangled in his hair, threading their fingers together. Next time - next time they'd take it slow; they'd talk about comfort levels and boundaries, and Jack would make it clear that there was no quid pro quo. Next time.
But not tonight.
* * *
Steve was pretty sure his eyes were glued shut or, if they weren't, he wanted them to be. He told his brain to open them, but something about the command short circuited between the brain and his eyelids. And maybe that was for the best because his head was splitting and he was pretty sure the bed underneath him was moving. Funny, he didn't remember Jack having a waterbed, but that was definitely what it felt like.
Jack.
That's right. This wasn't his room. At that realization, at least part of the events from last night started coming back to him. The club. After the club. He reached over to curl against Jack's warmth and maybe press his forehead to Jack's back and burn the headache away, but frowned when he realized that Jack wasn't there.
That did make him open his eyes. They weren't glued shut, but he'd been right: he wanted them to be. He groaned and risked turning onto his back to do a brief glance around the room. No Jack. He gave up on the visual and shut his eyes again, flopping back onto the bed with a pained groan and tried to remember more of the details from last night. From what he could remember, it should have been Jack worried about him running off, not the other way around.
Of course, Steve was only alone for a few seconds before Jack appeared from out of the bathroom, carrying a glass of water and a bottle of advil. He hadn't even bothered with a shirt this morning, just some loose pajama pants for his trip down the cafeteria. ...where, despite the ridiculously early hour, he'd run into Pietro, who had admired Steve's work from the night before (it was going to take months to get the speedster to stop smirking at him; somehow, Jack didn't mind).
Steve's eyes were closed, but the groaning was a dead giveaway that he was awake. A grin crept over Jack's face as he stepped over to set the glass and pills on the desk. "Well good morning, Sunshine."
And although no one would've noticed from his smile and approach, Jack was anxiously waiting for Steve's response; he had to know if he'd made a colossal mistake.
Part of Steve relaxed when he realized that Jack hadn't vanished, just...left. And he relaxed even more when he heard the clunk of glass against wood. Not left, then. Just went to go get something. And considering how he felt... "That had better be some kind of cure for a hangover. I think today I want my power to be Cal's. He told me that you cured him of his hangover."
He wanted to grab Jack and pull him in for a kiss, but he was pretty sure something had died in his mouth and he didn't want to inflict that on anyone. Instead, he settled for cracking an eye open and offering Jack a weak smile.
"Can't cure you, but there's water and advil," Jack told him, "and there's some food here when you're ready for it." He leaned back against the desk, smiling down at Steve. He wanted to crawl back into bed with him, but not before he was sure where they stood on last night. "How's your head?"
"I knew there was a reason I keep you around," Steve teased, though there was more than a bit of exhaustion in his voice. He held out a hand for either Jack or the water. "Hurts." Part of him wasn't sure that had been worth this, but at the same time, he wasn't sure what else he would have done differently. He'd forgotten about his problems and Jack...
"Worth it," he said.
Jack put the glass of water in Steve's hand, and shook a few pills out of the bottle to go with it. "You sure?" he asked, tone teasing. "How much do you remember?"
Steve raised an eyebrow. "The club's a bit of a blur, though I have a feeling I should be apologizing to you. But I don't think that's what you were talking about. You were talking about the part where you were...what? Trying to project my virtue?"
"Take your medicine," Jack instructed, rolling his eyes with a smile. He huffed, looking down. "Not your virtue, no. But I didn't want to do anything you'd regret. You were drunk."
Steve took the pills and swallowed them quickly. "And what if I told you I knew what I was getting into before I ever walked out of my room yesterday?"
Jack just looked at him, half-glaring for a moment, then smirked. He grabbed the plate of bagels he'd brought up from the cafeteria. "Eat," he said, putting them within easy reach. "The carbs will help your stomach."
Then he walked around to the far side of the bed, untying his pajama pants. He kicked them off and climbed onto the bed, now in just his underwear. "So let's see if I've got this straight... I have to get you extremely drunk to get you naked?" His tone was teasing, but there was genuine concern underneath. "Whether you planned it or not, you see how that's a little concerning to me, right?"
"You need to be the person who'll be there when I need you," Steve said, finishing the glass and putting it back on the table. He ignored the bagels for a minute and instead grabbed for Jack, pulling him closer. "And you were." He didn't say that the extremely drunk had helped with the nerves because that was likely another thing that would worry Jack.
He kissed the corner of Jack's mouth because he still didn't want Jack to deal with his monster breath and smiled at him.
Jack smiled, placing a kiss on Steve's forehead and bringing a hand up to trace his fingers through Steve's hair. It wouldn't actually get rid of the headache, but might help distract from it. "I'm glad. Relieved, actually.
"I think you've figured out by now that I want you, and that I want to make you feel good." And to be fair, he'd definitely done that last night... "But when you're ready - when you want to. Not when you have to get yourself drunk to say yes. Okay?" He watched Steve carefully for understanding.
Steve started to slip his head down to Jack's stomach, the better to receive the benefit of Jack's hand, but at Jack's words, he pulled away and went for the bagels instead. "That's not what that was, Jack. In fact, I seem to recall being pretty insistent that it's not what that was last night, but I'll reassure you again now." He took a tentative bite of the bagel and his stomach grumbled - in hunger, at least, and not revolt.
"If I wasn't sure I wanted, there were a half dozen times last night when you tried to let me off the hook and at least once where you tried very hard to convince me to just lie back and take it."
Jack grinned at that. "Well I knew I wasn't going to regret that..."
Steve smiled a little. "Not until the next morning where I let you have it that I didn't get to have as much fun as you did."
"Right. That's where the alcohol came in," Jack replied, not meeting Steve's eyes. He wasn't really proud of that decision. Steve meant not having fun because Jack hadn't let him play too; Jack meant waking up to find Steve felt violated or worse. "Still, didn't think the problem would be that you didn't enjoy it."
"I'd kiss you if I weren't afraid I'd throw up on you," Steve said and than added, "or punch you. Again." At least he thought he'd been the one to hit Jack. Accidentally. "No, the problem would have been that I wanted to do the same things to you that you were doing to me. Still want in case you were curious and if it weren't for the fact that it feels like you forgot to tell me you got a waterbed, I'd show you."
Jack let out a soft laugh, still feeling relieved down to his core. "Okay, first? You didn't punch me, you elbowed me. Nearly broke my nose. Which reminds me, there's a couple ice packs in the fridge if you need them." He'd check on the damage from the fight in a minute, "But first, I want to be really clear on something. And don't be stubborn, just- listen.
"You don't need to prove anything to me, and there's no score-keeping. Being a little nervous is one thing, but I don't ever want to find out that I pressured you into something you didn't want or weren't ready for." He held Steve's gaze, so he'd feel the truth of the statement. "I know last night was an anomaly, but... next time you want to try something, how about you just tell me? Or, y'know, show me." Any time Steve wanted to jump him, Jack was game - just as long as he was sober.
Steve put the half-finished bagel on the table and went to stretch on Jack's stomach so that Jack could go back to what he'd been doing before there'd been the necessity to be serious. "Just as soon as I don't feel like death warmed over," he promised. "And then I'll show you last night wasn't an anomaly. Or at least not that part of it." Because he didn't routinely go around looking for a fight.
Jack chuckled again, fingers immediately resuming their earlier work in Steve's hair and down over his shoulders. "Take your time," he said, honestly happy where he was. "We've got all day and no roommates to worry about."
Steve relaxed a little when he realized they were done with the arguments about whether he'd been willing. He had. End of story. He sighed and closed his eyes, letting himself drift to the feeling of Jack's fingers. Now this was the way to get over a hangover.
Drunk times and questionable decisions! Probably a little NSFW >.>
Steve was normally a quiet kid. Sometimes he got angry, sure, but he tried to get it under control quickly. He didn't like angry. He'd done it for so long that it was like a weight against his chest that sometimes made it hard to breathe. In fact, the last time he could remember being angry enough not to try to rein it in had been with Claudia and Jack. The last time until now.
Now he was on the phone with his mother, a call he'd delayed making for as long as possible. He knew she wouldn't want to hear his reasons for staying and, to be honest, he didn't want to give them. If she didn't understand why he couldn't live with her after she'd forgiven the person who'd murdered Olivia, there was no way that telling her a second, third, tenth time was going to make any difference.
At first, the conversation had been subdued. She said how much she missed him, he tried to avoid feeling the same. She asked how his classes were and he said they were fine. It was when she asked him when his classes were over that things started going downhill because they were, of course, already over. Had just ended, in fact, and he hadn't bothered to tell her because he knew that if she knew the date, she'd be in the driveway to the school just as soon as his final class was over.
But it wasn't until he finally told her that he wasn't coming back at all that things went completely wrong.
"Mom, no. For the last time, I'm not coming back. Not now, not--" He teetered over the word. Saying it would change everything and, even if it was true, he wasn't sure he was ready to take that leap yet. He was all set to leave it there, but then she asked why. Why wouldn't he come back, if just to visit? Why would he leave her alone in an empty house?
"You know why!" And that was when his voice started to carry outside the room. "She was the best part of us and that bastard killed her." Louder and louder. "I get trying to move on. That's what I'm trying to do right now. I'm trying to live my life. What I can't understand, what I can't accept? You forgave him!" And now he was shouting.
"It wasn't self-defense, it wasn't an accident. He just shot her! And you're treating it like it doesn't matter." No matter how many times he rolled the idea around in his head, he couldn't understand it. He was still so angry. So hurt. And if anything, how he treated Claudia was proof that he was as messed up now as he had been back then, if not even more so.
When are you coming home? He flinched at her words and another wave of anger crashed into him.
"I'm not. I don't even know that I can look at you, let alone try to make small talk to fill the silence. I'm staying here and I'll graduate and move away and you'll never have to see me again." He'd never have to see her again and remember.
Jack had been heading for Steve's room anyways, but when he heard the shouting, he quickened his stride. He knocked once, but when Steve didn't answer Jack let himself in (glad that the door was usually left unlocked during the day). It took him only a few seconds to figure out what was going on. Shutting the door behind him, he crossed his arms over his chest and watched with a heavy expression, waiting for the call to finish.
"No!" Steve shouted. "There's nothing you can say. We've already said it. I'm staying here. I'm working. I'm going to school. I'm done, Mom." He hung up and threw the phone against the wall before running a hand through his hair. He didn't even seem to see Jack, lost in his own thoughts as he was.
Jack let him have a moment, still watching quietly. This certainly explained Steve's recent bad mood. Not wanting to startle the other boy if he really hadn't noticed him yet, Jack said, "So... what's going on?"
Steve jerked at the unexpected noise and turned to stare at Jack. "When in the hell did you get here?"
Looking thoughtful, Jack said, "After the shouting started, but before the phone-throwing." The humor was thin at best; he really was worried. More seriously, he added, "You okay?"
"Not really," Steve muttered. "My mother wants me to go home for the summer." Which wasn't happening. Not in this life.
Jack didn't reach for him or try to comfort him. If touch would help, Steve would come to him. For now, he probably needed some space. Frowning, Jack waited for Steve to catch his eyes. "And you said no?" he prompted.
"No way I'm going back there." Before, he'd had to stay because he was a minor and didn't have anywhere else to go. Though not long before the before, he hadn't known of any reason to be away from his mom. Now was different than before.
"Well, you know I'm glad," Jack said almost offhandedly, since that had absolutely nothing to do with anything. "But that seemed to be about a lot more than that."
"Oh, just that she decided to forgive the person who killed Livvy." Steve wasn't sure when, but he'd started pacing. He didn't want to stop. He also wanted something to punch and his boyfriend probably wasn't the best solution.
All the muscles along Jack's jaw tightened, but Steve was too busy to notice the effect his words had. Jack had never seen him this worked up before, but it all made a sick sense. He felt nauseous; it was like the ghosts of his family had just clawed out of that place where he kept them buried.
He forced those thoughts away. Steve was still pacing. "How can I help?" There really wasn't much to be done, but he could try. "Danger room session? Sparring?" He smirked a bit. "Get you drunk?"
Steve answered before he could think about it too hard. "Drunk." Sparring could help with the feeling his skin was going to split apart, but being drunk might mean he'd forget all about this conversation, at least for a little while.
"...wait, seriously?" Jack had been mostly joking (not because he didn't like the idea, but because Steve didn't really drink). "You sure?"
"Yeah." He took a breath and let it out slowly. "Yeah, I'm definitely sure."
Jack didn't question it, just nodded in response. "Go out for the distraction, or grab a bottle and lock the door?" It'd be Jack's door - now that he'd graduated, he'd moved into his own room in the staff dorm. "If there's a bar or club you want to hit in town, I can get us in."
"If we go to the club," Steve said, "I'll probably get into a fight." And that threw the decision right back into Jack's court. Because he would go and a part of him liked the idea of being drunk with Jack in the middle of loud music and a pulsing beat, but he'd probably wind up with bruised knuckles and a bloody lip at some point. Of course, if Jack was okay with that...
Jack smirked in amusement, but there was something gentle about it. If Steve had that much pent up, maybe they could deal with it on the dance floor - and at the gay club in town, no one would look twice if 'dealing' involved making out like the world was ending. One way or another, Jack was sure he could get Steve's mind off of this. Besides, he liked the glint in Steve's eye.
Raising an eyebrow at Steve, Jack said, "Out it is. Meet you in the garage in ten minutes." He turned to the door, then added (only half-teasing), "And if you need to punch someone that badly, make sure it's me. Other people's noses won't unbreak themselves."
Steve had this image of what you were supposed to look like when you went out to a club and, though most of his clothes wouldn't work, he had a few things that would work. A few things he'd pretty much grown out of but still kept in his wardrobe because he was saving up for a car and couldn't really afford to buy more. He put a little gel in his hair - a standby for when his hair was a little too long - and ran his fingers through it. And then he looked at himself. Yes. This was the person he wanted to be tonight. Anything but his mother's son. He grabbed his keys, wallet, and headed to the garage.
Jack was waiting by one of the school cars (he could DD - drink as much as he wanted, then trigger his mutation and he'd auto-sober to drive). He'd only gone back to his room to change quickly, into a tighter t-shirt and the jeans that made his ass impossible to miss. Another night he might not have bothered, but it would definitely help get them in, and maybe get them a few free drinks tonight. And honestly, they were both on tight budgets (no paycheck until he finished training and officially joined the staff), so 'free' was a real perk.
Especially since the mission was to get Steve drunk. Which, yeah, was a somewhat questionable mission, but Jack wasn't going to argue; he also wasn't really going to discuss it with Steve. No way to avoid his own family issues - and since those issues made him want to drink too, a night out was exactly what they both needed.
As Steve approached, Jack couldn't help being a little impressed. He let out a low whistle. "I'm taking you out more often."
But Steve knew that most nights, he wouldn't be doing this. At least not the way his over-active imagination was showing him. So most nights, he'd probably go out and have a dance or two and come back. Most nights. Tonight was not anything near 'most'. He walked up until he was just barely touching Jack and smirked.
"Are you sure you're going to want everyone to see me after this?" he asked and then pushed away before Jack could do anything and got into the passenger's seat.
Jack was surprised, but, well... Pleasantly. Steve was absolutely looking for trouble, and Jack was pretty sure that wasn't supposed to be such a turn on...
But he was only human. Swinging around to the driver's side, he just gave Steve a promising grin and started the car.
It wasn't long until they were outside - and then inside - the club. Steve wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know what kind of magic Jack worked because, the last time he'd checked, he didn't have a fake ID. Not unless Jack had made one for him. But they got inside and they got a drink. Steve was tempted to stick with beer, at first, but he didn't really get buzzed after even one beer and they were both on a budget, so he let Jack make the decision on what they were drinking. Clearly he was the more experienced. Instead, he just let the steady thump of the music seep into his bones. It was relaxing on some level.
Jack had charmed their way in (easy enough, he knew the bouncer), and was now working his magic with the bartender. Even from a distance, Steve looked tense and angry, so a quick fib about why that was and an imploring look at the bartender earned him a pair of free shots with their drinks.
Making his way carefully back to Steve, two house specialty drinks and two shot glasses carefully balanced, he handed him one of each. "Alright, you want to get drunk, this is how you do it. Shot first, chase it with the drink. It's the house specialty, and there's a ton of booze under all that fruit juice."
Down to two glasses, he leaned up against the wall next to Steve with a grin, adding, "By the way, the bartender thinks you're mad at me and I'm trying to win you back over." He couldn't help a smirk of amusement. "Failing that, he told me what time his shift ends."
Steve stared at Jack. He knew an attempt to get a rise out of him when he saw it and, usually, he wouldn't accept the bait. But mischief had him tight in hand and he lifted his glass in Jack's direction and drank. "If you take him up on it, I'll just have to see about taking up my own offers." Not that he really expected there to be any that weren't from Jack.
"But feel free to try to win me over," he said and started on the other drink.
Impressed, Jack took his own shot (Jack Daniels), then smirked back, willing to play this game. "Hey, I bought you a drink, didn't I?" For his part, Jack was certain that Steve would attract interest, and offers if he played his cards right - a thought which caused a serious twinge of jealousy that he tried to ignore. This was all hypothetical. Seriously hypothetical, given how far he and Steve hadn't gotten yet... Still. He took a sip of his drink and gave Steve a mischievous look. "The bartender's definitely Plan B."
"So it's my job to make sure he's Plan C? Or D or E or Z? Maybe see if I can get that plan off the list altogether." Another long sip as he studied Jack, a smile playing around the corners of his lips. "I think I can manage that."
Jack knew that hungry expression, and loved the way it looked on Steve, here in the darkness of the club with the music pounding away. The anger and aggression was still there, beneath the surface, but Jack had Steve's full attention - and he had some really, really fantastic ideas about how to channel that aggression.
He knew he should say something about how Plan B wouldn't be needed if Plan A went well, or something cheesy about how Steve already was plans A-Z. Instead, he let some of his own hunger show in the edge of his grin. "Good."
"I thought you'd be in favor," Steve said, having another sip that left him with less than have of his drink left. Flirting with Jack, that was something he could do. Jack always knew how to distract him in ways that left him hungry and aching to just forget his 1800 morals which was really more fear of the unknown. He was anything but afraid tonight.
Leaning in close to Steve's ear, ostensibly so he wouldn't have to talk so loud over the music (but really so Steve would feel his breath on his neck), Jack asked, "So, what's your plan then?"
Steve slid a hand onto Jack's chest and tilted his head that much closer in. "Have another drink. Head out to the dance floor. Dance with the first person who finds me."
Jack's hand possessively found Steve's belt, and he tugged on it to pull Steve's hips closer. "Trying to make me jealous?"
Steve chuckled. "Only if it's working." He didn't feel nearly as sure as he seemed to be making Jack feel and so he pressed the hand on Jack's chest. "Go get me another drink and we'll see whether I'm telling the truth or not." Liquid courage, that's what he'd heard it called, and he could use some about now.
Jack grinned and downed his own drink in one move. "Yes sir."
Then he headed back to the bar, well aware of the view of his ass that Steve was getting as he leaned in to get the bartender's attention.
And oh, did Steve appreciate the view. By the time Jack got back from getting their drinks, Steve had his own admirer, but he was some guy that he was only half paying attention to. Once Jack actually hit Steve's line of sight again, the only thing Steve was paying attention to was him. "Nice view from the front, too," he said.
Jack cracked a grin, and handed Steve a bright blue drink. "Easy on this one - too much too fast and you'll be puking instead of dancing." He slid in a little closer to Steve than was strictly necessary. "Who's your friend?"
"Friend?" Steve repeated, a frown on his face until he saw the direction Jack was glancing. "Well," he said, smiling slowly, "you had the bartender..." Thought it was clear that Steve had already forgotten the guy had even been there.
Jack let Steve try his drink - an AMF - but then he leaned over to catch his lips, somehow both possessive and gentle as he interrupted that mischievous smile. He didn't overdo it; kissing in public wasn't exactly common for them, and he didn't want to make Steve too uncomfortable, but somehow he'd needed it. And he didn't want to give up the proximity, either. Maybe it was the first round of drinks racing through him and heating up his blood, but he didn't really care.
"I told you he was Plan B," Jack murmured by Steve's ear, making it clear that Plan A was what he really wanted.
Steve licked his lips when Jack let go. Much better than the alcohol, even if each sip seemed to be making the night's events blur a little more. Made it seem as if not even an hour ago had really been forever ago. He took a deeper sip despite Jack's warning. He wanted to be out on that dance floor with everyone else. With Jack. "Well, maybe I'm making my own Plan B." He glanced around, but the guy had already left and he couldn't find it in himself to care.
Steve may have lost sight of the other guy, but Jack hadn't. With what he easily recognized as petty satisfaction, Jack had watched him frown in disappointment and move off to try his luck elsewhere. Which was childish, he knew, and so unlike him; he wasn't the jealous type. Rolling his eyes at himself, Jack placed a quick kiss on Steve's neck before telling him, "Don't," in his most promising tone. Then he made himself pull away to start on his own drink.
Something warm settled in Steve's chest when he saw the look Jack was giving the guy who'd vanished and he had to hide his smile by taking another drink. Every time he thought he'd learned everything there was to know about Jack, every time Steve thought he had him pegged, he went and did something like this.
"If you keep talking like that," he said softly, "maybe I won't."
Jack grinned into his own drink, forcing himself to drink it slowly. He turned so they were both looking out over the dark room, watching as the dance floor started to fill up. "So, what do you think?"
Steve followed Jack's eyes again and he glanced at his drink and then Jack's. "Hot. Very hot." And then he took another long, encouraging sip.
Seriously, Jack knew that this should make him worry. The way Steve was downing his drinks, those taunting comments, the way he was pushing his boundaries-- it just wasn't like Steve. Usually, Steve would hold back, or be more cautious or, well, sensible, reprimanding Jack for this kind of behavior. And it wasn't that Jack wasn't worried, even.
It was just that it kept turning him on.
As soon as they were both done with their drinks - and Steve kept egging Jack on to finish his faster - Steve grabbed Jack's hand and headed them out into the crowd. The entire room seemed about twenty degrees hotter than it'd been when they'd first showed up, but he was fine. He was more than fine because he'd stopped arguing with that inner voice that kept telling him that this was a mistake and wasn't him.
So instead of running in terror, he leaned back against Jack when they were somewhere in the crowd.
Jack didn't even think of protesting, just hummed in approval and pulled Steve's hips to his, moving them with the music. He'd been drinking slow just to drive Steve crazy, so now he leaned in to tease Steve's ear with his teeth, just a bit. "Better?"
"Yes." Steve let him think that was all to the answer for a long beat. And then, "Please. I know you can do better than that." And then he moved his hips in what was probably an embarrassing way, but the side effect of the alcohol was that he didn't care how he looked, only what it made Jack feel.
With a low, dark chuckle, Jack murmured, "Well if that's what you want..." He locked his hands on Steve's hips again, holding them together as he rocked his hips in a slow, sensuous way, like sin itself, showing Steve how to move with him. It left them both a little breathless, and for added effect, Jack let his thumbs slide up under Steve's shirt, brushing against the skin there.
Steve's stomach tightened at the touch. Instead of the usual mix of hunger and nervousness, all he felt was hunger. He tilted his head back and glanced at Jack. "You going up? Or down." And the way his hips pressed back against Jack, it was obvious that he had a very marked preference.
"Definitely both," Jack replied. Without interrupting that irresistible rhythm in their hips, he slid one hand up, over Steve's stomach, finger nails teasing a light trail across his ribs. The other hand started teasing along the line of Steve's pants, not dipping under yet, just building the anticipation.
Steve chuckled. Of course Jack would take the least expected route. He turned his head and reached back, catching the back of Jack's head with his hand and pulling him close enough to kiss. He had to admit, Jack was an excellent distraction when he wanted to be. And he was still good distraction when he wasn't intending to be. Steve was pretty sure it was the former at the moment.
It was the club, and it was the booze, and it was the fact that Jack hadn't touched anyone in ages, and he'd wanted to touch Steve for so long… As time wore on, one stolen kiss turned into a dark corner and kisses that would leave marks, the dancing disintegrating to just hips grinding in need.
When Jack finally pulled away, panting and moaning in frustration because they were at the limits of what could be done here on the dance floor (and the limits of what Steve had previously allowed), it was only because he couldn't stand it anymore. He placed a kiss on a mark so red and raw that it would sting, just to hear and feel Steve groan in pain and pleasure, then pulled away. "I…" he paused to nip at Steve's ear, unable to quit all at once. "…need another drink."
Before Steve could pull his shattered thoughts together enough to protest, Jack was gone and Steve was left to wonder what in the hell he'd done wrong. He'd been lost in their own little universe for long enough that he'd all but forgotten that there were things outside of them. And he didn't even know why Jack had stopped when things had been so...good.
He tilted his head back against the wall - when had they moved there? - and closed his eyes, trying to figure out what it was that he'd done. His eyes shot open and a smile was already on his lips when he felt a hand on his hip. The smile froze when he realized that the hand didn't belong to Jack.
"Interested in picking up where he left off?" the guy said, responding to Steve's smile with one of his own.
"No," Steve answered flatly, pushing the guy's hand away.
The guy's smile only got wider. "Cold fish, huh? Maybe I should go help him out, then."
Shock seized Steve for a minute and then anger ate the shock away when the guy stepped back as if he was planning on following through with his suggestion. He took a step forward as if he was going to follow the guy, put two hands to his chest, and shoved.
"What's your problem?" the guy asked, shoving Steve back.
In return, Steve punched him and that was how it started. And just like that, he'd regained the kind of high he'd been feeling with Jack. The lure of flesh against flesh, just with more bruises.
People started trying to break up the fight almost immediately, and Jack was among them. He'd abandoned his wait at the bar as soon as he saw fists start to fly. He was pulling Steve back, trusting the other patrons to get the stranger under control, but he couldn't seem to get a good hold on his boyfriend (and through the tipsy haze of his thoughts, he was well aware that alcohol was probably to blame).
It wasn't until Steve's elbow caught him hard in the nose that his thoughts started coming clearer. There was a moment of sharp pain, and the feeling of a nosebleed starting, but just as quickly it disappeared - as did the inebriated buzz in his head. This time he grabbed Steve with much more purpose, wrapping his arms around his chest and yanking him away from the fight, and heading him toward the door. They definitely had to get moving, before they got thrown out.
"That's enough," he growled in Steve's ear, trying to snap him out of it. A bouncer was headed for them. "We're going," Jack snapped at the guy, trying again to pull Steve toward the door.
The growl definitely snapped something into him, but it wasn't sense. It made him want to dig in his heels and confront Jack. And so he did, just by the time they reached the bar. He shot a smile at the bartender, remembered the way Jack had talked about him earlier, and then replaced the smile with a scowl and turned a narrowed-eyed look at Jack.
"Maybe I should stay," he said, "and get to know your friend over there a little better."
"We're about to get thrown out of here," Jack told him, really not understanding what the hell was happening. Things had been so good when he left, so good he hadn't been able to stand it. What had changed? "My friend over there could call the cops on us, and then we could have this chat in a jail cell. Or, we could get outside now, and figure it out from there." Jack let go of him to make his point. "Your call."
Steve jerked his arm away from Jack's hand and started heading for the door. Fuck, things had been so good and then that guy. "You don't need to babysit, Jack." He rolled his shoulders and glanced around once they'd reached fresh air. Maybe there was some other place he could go. Probably no other gay bar, though. He flicked an eye at Jack speculatively.
Jack caught up with him outside, and almost immediately had his hands on Steve again, this time checking for damages. "It's not babysitting," he murmured, tilting Steve's head to examine a bruise, "but you're drunk and I'm not." He met his squirming boyfriend's eyes as his thumb brushed the red, rising mark. He sighed, a wry smile breaking through the concern on his face. "Guess you weren't kidding about that fight..."
A flash out of the corner of his eye and, when he glanced over, Steve saw the guy leaving. He scowled again and turned back to Jack. "I am not a cold fish," he muttered and promptly caught Jack's face in his hands and kissed him.
It took Jack a moment to piece together what Steve had said, distracted as he was. Once he did, though, he just gave in to the kiss even more. Whatever Steve needed to prove to himself tonight, Jack was in and then some. He kissed Steve soundly up against the wall of the club (carefully catching the back of his head before it hit the bricks), and rocked his hips in approval when Steve slid his hands into the back pockets of his jeans and tugged him closer. The message couldn't have been clearer - Jack shouldn't have left in the first place.
Not a mistake he planned to make twice. After a few minutes of extremely blatant PDA, during which Steve was anything but cold, Jack eased off, moving his kisses down Steve's jaw and to his neck. "Shall we..." Jack rocked his hips again, "take this back to my place?"
Steve groaned and tilted his head back, gripping his fingers tightly into Jack's back. Sometime - he wasn't sure when or how - his hands had migrated under Jack's shirt and he was now gripping the other boy for dear life. The last thing he wanted was for him to go anywhere. The last thing he wanted to do at all was move, but he supposed he had to.
Still, he had to make the offer. "Only if we have to." And then he dragged his teeth across Jack's neck to emphasize the point that he didn't mean not staying with Jack.
Jack released a breath that was inches away from being a groan as he slowly pulled back to meet Steve's eyes. "Oh yeah, we have to."
After what had to be the longest car ride ever, Jack and Steve made their way back to Jack's room (slowly, and with much making out along the way). Still sober, it had been Jack's plan to indulge in the make-outs and basically keep an eye on Steve for the rest of the night. No way he was going to take advantage of his drunk boyfriend; Steve had made it clear in the past that he wanted first times to be special, and had been putting the brakes on for ages.
What Jack hadn't planned for was the in-house drinking. Unhappy with the feeling of sobering up, the first thing Steve did when they got through the door was head for the closet where Jack had a large bottle of rum hidden. It took a little persuading, but Jack eventually gave in, fixing a pair of rum and cokes (in exchange for Steve downing a large glass of water to deter a hangover), and even taking a few 'catch-up shots' because apparently Steve could talk him into just about anything at the moment...
...which probably had something to do with the fact that resisting the whole 'taking advantage' thing was taking most of his willpower, and more alcohol provided a welcome distraction...
"You are going to hate me so much in the morning," Jack was telling him, watching him down the rum and coke. Those shots he'd taken were burning quickly through him, and he sat down on the bed to enjoy the buzz, smirking. "But I'm remembering this forever."
While they'd been at the club, Steve had managed to avoid doing anything to make himself cooler. But oddly since getting back into a room that should have been cooler, he was actually feeling hotter than he'd been at the club. He grabbed at the back of his shirt, tugged up, and peeled the shirt off of himself.
"Myself, maybe," Steve said with a laugh. He'd never really had a hangover before, but he'd heard about them. And it would be his own fault because he'd asked for it, not Jack's for giving it to him. "But we might as well have fun before that happens."
Jack blinked in surprise. Well that had never happened before. Jack had only gotten Steve's shirt off once, and even that had been after much persuasion.
Also, that time there weren't bruises forming on Steve's ribs. The bright red marks caught Jack's eye, making something twinge in his chest that he couldn't quite make sense of, like anger and lust. His eyes traveled slowly back up Steve's torso, catching briefly on his much-abused lips before finding his eyes again. "Come here."
Steve's tongue darted out when he felt Jack's gaze on his lips and he licked them briefly and then he followed Jack's instruction. But instead of sitting on the bed, he grasped Jack's thighs, spread them apart, and made a space for himself between them. "You wanted me?" he asked, innuendo as thick in his voice as he'd ever heard in Jack's.
"Yes," Jack murmured, before he could think better of it. His hands were already tracing over Steve's skin, skimming around the rising bruises, gently, but so Steve would know he saw them. Feeling Steve's breath catch under his touch, he leaned in to start placing kisses on the exposed skin. He probably shouldn't, he knew that - he was only going to make it harder to stop later - but he'd been resisting for so long that he couldn't have stopped himself.
Steve threaded a hand through Jack's hair and shivered. The bruises weren't quite hurting yet, but he knew from experience that they would be soon. Except that Jack's hands were gentle over his skin and his lips even more so. Usually he would have appreciated it, but now it was making his skin itch for more than it was getting.
"More," he found himself urging, tightening his fingers a little in Jack's hair.
Jack breathed a dark chuckle against Steve's skin, then nipped at his navel while one hand worked up his chest to tease a nipple. Meanwhile, his mouth found a spot that made Steve groan and started working it, hard. And still he knew he should stop, shouldn't be making things worse-- but with Steve's hand in his hair like that, tugging with need (need Jack could see starting to strain at his jeans), and God, it felt so good to finally have Steve here, to be making him moan like he'd wanted to...
But Steve wasn't content to just take what Jack was doing to him. He pushed Jack back enough so that, when he grabbed at Jack's shirt and tugged - it came up rather easily. And then he pushed Jack even more, but this time, Steve came along for the ride. There was a bit of a smirk around his lips as he dragged his teeth along Jack's jaw. If Jack thought he was playing nice now that they were back in the room, he was wrong. That dark urge that had held him through the fight was still more than present and it had just found another outlet: Jack himself.
Back on the bed, shirtless, and with Steve on top of him, Jack couldn't help a happy groan as Steve set to work. For about the hundredth time that night, he cursed the tightness of his jeans (nevermind how great they made his ass look), but was still happy to bask in Steve's hungry attention for the moment. ...mostly. His hands kept moving over bare skin, naturally finding sensitive spots and teasing them.
"What am I going to do with you?" he murmured in Steve's ear. He knew what he wanted to do, of course (roughly everything), which was the tease in the question. But he also knew that Steve wasn't in his usual state of mind tonight, that he was hurting underneath all this.
"If you don't have a few dozen ideas," Steve answered, "then you're not the person I thought I knew." He rubbed himself against Jack purposefully. "How about we get started on a few?"
God, so tempting, but... "You're drunk," Jack pointed out, breath catching. Of course, he wasn't exactly sober himself.
Steve leaned in to kiss Jack and ended up humming an agreement on his lips. "I knew about the fight," he reminded Jack. "What makes you think I wasn't planning for this, too?"
Jack's hands were on the bare skin of Steve's hips. He knew there were lines he shouldn't cross, but the details were completely hazy now. Jack smirked into their next kiss. "That might worry me more." He kissed him again and tugged on his hips, urging Steve forward and onto the bed, onto Jack, straddling his hips. "Y'know, if it wasn't such a turn on."
Steve slid a hand between them to feel just how turned on Jack was. And then he just had to get a good grip. He didn't want Jack to have any doubts. Or at least none that he was planning on acting on, just like he had pushed all of his doubts into the background somewhere.
"I see what you mean," he said with a grin.
Jack bit his lip. Slow and controlled, he rocked up into Steve's hand. "And if you were sober," he said, voice breathy, "I'd be telling you to do anything you want, to take anything you want."
Securing a grip on Steve's hips, Jack rolled them smoothly so Steve was beneath him, then started moving them toward the center of the bed. "But you're not," he continued, now punctuating with kisses threading down Steve's arm, down to his chest. "So instead, I'm going to tell you to just... enjoy." Because that was the compromise that Jack's tipsy mind had come to: he wouldn't let Steve do anything he might regret, but Jack? He knew he wouldn't regret anything he was about to do. One hand dropped to the button of Steve's pants and tugged there, but he looked to Steve, still waiting for permission. "Think you can do that?"
Steve frowned as he struggled to think through what Jack was saying. What he was implying. And then, when he thought he had a grasp on it, his frown grew deeper and he shook his head violently enough that the room spun a little. "Only if I get to do the same thing." He didn't want this to be about Jack taking fucking pity on him.
"Not tonight," Jack told him. He'd worked his way down Steve's body, and was kissing just below his belly button now, but he hadn't done anything with Steve's pants yet. "Don't worry," he continued, with his sexiest smirk. "I'm going to take care of both of us tonight." A hot breath and a brush of his lips, right at the edge of Steve's pants, guaranteed to make him squirm. "After all, I've got two hands." And one very, very talented mouth that he couldn't wait to put to work.
He just needed Steve to say yes...
Jack wasn't playing fair, not that it should have been any surprise to Steve. But now he was playing even more not fair than usual. He was trying to distract Steve and, damn him, it was almost working. He stared at the ceiling and, for a moment, his resolve wavered. What harm would it do? Really? But that wasn't what he wanted and Jack kept telling him to enjoy.
"Only if I get to do the same thing," he repeated, more breathless than the last time he'd opened his mouth.
"Can't hear you," Jack lied into Steve's skin, unabashedly torturing him now, loving how ragged Steve's voice was. His fingers were opening the button of Steve's jeans, slowly.
Steve made a frustrated sound in the back of his throat that he told himself wasn't a growl, gripped Jack's hair again, and this time yanked on it hard enough that he hoped it hurt. "I said only if I get to do the same thing."
Well that got Jack's attention. He moved back up Steve's body until they were eye to eye again (and tried not be too distracted by the blown pupils, or the way Steve was nearly panting, air slipping through pink lips--) and found he couldn't actually say 'no'. Not with Steve looking at him like that. Despite the hot brush of skin on skin, and the haze of the alcohol in his system, Jack looked at him seriously.
"Nothing you'll regret," Jack said, hand sliding up his chest. "Promise me that."
Steve had to struggle to keep his wits about him after that. He had to close his eyes against the urge to just say 'fuck it' and forget all about promises and regrets. "Won't," he managed after a minute. "Won't regret."
"Good," Jack breathed against his lips. "Me either." Something had changed, but something good, and there was nothing for it but to kiss him breathless all over again. No going back now - they both needed this, completely and absolutely, and Jack was done fighting.
Propping himself on one elbow, Jack started working his lips down Steve's body again, but he used his free hand to find the one Steve didn't have tangled in his hair, threading their fingers together. Next time - next time they'd take it slow; they'd talk about comfort levels and boundaries, and Jack would make it clear that there was no quid pro quo. Next time.
But not tonight.
Steve was pretty sure his eyes were glued shut or, if they weren't, he wanted them to be. He told his brain to open them, but something about the command short circuited between the brain and his eyelids. And maybe that was for the best because his head was splitting and he was pretty sure the bed underneath him was moving. Funny, he didn't remember Jack having a waterbed, but that was definitely what it felt like.
Jack.
That's right. This wasn't his room. At that realization, at least part of the events from last night started coming back to him. The club. After the club. He reached over to curl against Jack's warmth and maybe press his forehead to Jack's back and burn the headache away, but frowned when he realized that Jack wasn't there.
That did make him open his eyes. They weren't glued shut, but he'd been right: he wanted them to be. He groaned and risked turning onto his back to do a brief glance around the room. No Jack. He gave up on the visual and shut his eyes again, flopping back onto the bed with a pained groan and tried to remember more of the details from last night. From what he could remember, it should have been Jack worried about him running off, not the other way around.
Of course, Steve was only alone for a few seconds before Jack appeared from out of the bathroom, carrying a glass of water and a bottle of advil. He hadn't even bothered with a shirt this morning, just some loose pajama pants for his trip down the cafeteria. ...where, despite the ridiculously early hour, he'd run into Pietro, who had admired Steve's work from the night before (it was going to take months to get the speedster to stop smirking at him; somehow, Jack didn't mind).
Steve's eyes were closed, but the groaning was a dead giveaway that he was awake. A grin crept over Jack's face as he stepped over to set the glass and pills on the desk. "Well good morning, Sunshine."
And although no one would've noticed from his smile and approach, Jack was anxiously waiting for Steve's response; he had to know if he'd made a colossal mistake.
Part of Steve relaxed when he realized that Jack hadn't vanished, just...left. And he relaxed even more when he heard the clunk of glass against wood. Not left, then. Just went to go get something. And considering how he felt... "That had better be some kind of cure for a hangover. I think today I want my power to be Cal's. He told me that you cured him of his hangover."
He wanted to grab Jack and pull him in for a kiss, but he was pretty sure something had died in his mouth and he didn't want to inflict that on anyone. Instead, he settled for cracking an eye open and offering Jack a weak smile.
"Can't cure you, but there's water and advil," Jack told him, "and there's some food here when you're ready for it." He leaned back against the desk, smiling down at Steve. He wanted to crawl back into bed with him, but not before he was sure where they stood on last night. "How's your head?"
"I knew there was a reason I keep you around," Steve teased, though there was more than a bit of exhaustion in his voice. He held out a hand for either Jack or the water. "Hurts." Part of him wasn't sure that had been worth this, but at the same time, he wasn't sure what else he would have done differently. He'd forgotten about his problems and Jack...
"Worth it," he said.
Jack put the glass of water in Steve's hand, and shook a few pills out of the bottle to go with it. "You sure?" he asked, tone teasing. "How much do you remember?"
Steve raised an eyebrow. "The club's a bit of a blur, though I have a feeling I should be apologizing to you. But I don't think that's what you were talking about. You were talking about the part where you were...what? Trying to project my virtue?"
"Take your medicine," Jack instructed, rolling his eyes with a smile. He huffed, looking down. "Not your virtue, no. But I didn't want to do anything you'd regret. You were drunk."
Steve took the pills and swallowed them quickly. "And what if I told you I knew what I was getting into before I ever walked out of my room yesterday?"
Jack just looked at him, half-glaring for a moment, then smirked. He grabbed the plate of bagels he'd brought up from the cafeteria. "Eat," he said, putting them within easy reach. "The carbs will help your stomach."
Then he walked around to the far side of the bed, untying his pajama pants. He kicked them off and climbed onto the bed, now in just his underwear. "So let's see if I've got this straight... I have to get you extremely drunk to get you naked?" His tone was teasing, but there was genuine concern underneath. "Whether you planned it or not, you see how that's a little concerning to me, right?"
"You need to be the person who'll be there when I need you," Steve said, finishing the glass and putting it back on the table. He ignored the bagels for a minute and instead grabbed for Jack, pulling him closer. "And you were." He didn't say that the extremely drunk had helped with the nerves because that was likely another thing that would worry Jack.
He kissed the corner of Jack's mouth because he still didn't want Jack to deal with his monster breath and smiled at him.
Jack smiled, placing a kiss on Steve's forehead and bringing a hand up to trace his fingers through Steve's hair. It wouldn't actually get rid of the headache, but might help distract from it. "I'm glad. Relieved, actually.
"I think you've figured out by now that I want you, and that I want to make you feel good." And to be fair, he'd definitely done that last night... "But when you're ready - when you want to. Not when you have to get yourself drunk to say yes. Okay?" He watched Steve carefully for understanding.
Steve started to slip his head down to Jack's stomach, the better to receive the benefit of Jack's hand, but at Jack's words, he pulled away and went for the bagels instead. "That's not what that was, Jack. In fact, I seem to recall being pretty insistent that it's not what that was last night, but I'll reassure you again now." He took a tentative bite of the bagel and his stomach grumbled - in hunger, at least, and not revolt.
"If I wasn't sure I wanted, there were a half dozen times last night when you tried to let me off the hook and at least once where you tried very hard to convince me to just lie back and take it."
Jack grinned at that. "Well I knew I wasn't going to regret that..."
Steve smiled a little. "Not until the next morning where I let you have it that I didn't get to have as much fun as you did."
"Right. That's where the alcohol came in," Jack replied, not meeting Steve's eyes. He wasn't really proud of that decision. Steve meant not having fun because Jack hadn't let him play too; Jack meant waking up to find Steve felt violated or worse. "Still, didn't think the problem would be that you didn't enjoy it."
"I'd kiss you if I weren't afraid I'd throw up on you," Steve said and than added, "or punch you. Again." At least he thought he'd been the one to hit Jack. Accidentally. "No, the problem would have been that I wanted to do the same things to you that you were doing to me. Still want in case you were curious and if it weren't for the fact that it feels like you forgot to tell me you got a waterbed, I'd show you."
Jack let out a soft laugh, still feeling relieved down to his core. "Okay, first? You didn't punch me, you elbowed me. Nearly broke my nose. Which reminds me, there's a couple ice packs in the fridge if you need them." He'd check on the damage from the fight in a minute, "But first, I want to be really clear on something. And don't be stubborn, just- listen.
"You don't need to prove anything to me, and there's no score-keeping. Being a little nervous is one thing, but I don't ever want to find out that I pressured you into something you didn't want or weren't ready for." He held Steve's gaze, so he'd feel the truth of the statement. "I know last night was an anomaly, but... next time you want to try something, how about you just tell me? Or, y'know, show me." Any time Steve wanted to jump him, Jack was game - just as long as he was sober.
Steve put the half-finished bagel on the table and went to stretch on Jack's stomach so that Jack could go back to what he'd been doing before there'd been the necessity to be serious. "Just as soon as I don't feel like death warmed over," he promised. "And then I'll show you last night wasn't an anomaly. Or at least not that part of it." Because he didn't routinely go around looking for a fight.
Jack chuckled again, fingers immediately resuming their earlier work in Steve's hair and down over his shoulders. "Take your time," he said, honestly happy where he was. "We've got all day and no roommates to worry about."
Steve relaxed a little when he realized they were done with the arguments about whether he'd been willing. He had. End of story. He sighed and closed his eyes, letting himself drift to the feeling of Jack's fingers. Now this was the way to get over a hangover.
