rockabillyboy | (no subject)

"I know. But you're gonna fuck something up if you keep going without stepping back. I'm not telling you to blow it off. Just pace yourself."

"I'm sure I can think of something else to spend the evening doing," he says, kissing Poison's chest again, hand skimming down over his belly

"Have you eaten anything?" Poison lifts his eyebrows, trying to ignore the shiver Jack's fingers are sending across his skin.

"I had, like, breakfast?" He kisses Poison's chest again, then lifts his head and grazes his mouth with his.

"It's way past lunch," he points out, trying very hard to ignore the warmth of Jack's mouth drifting across his skin. Then they kiss, and it makes him smile whether he likes it or not.

"You should definitely eat something."

"Can we get back into bed afterwards?" Says Jack, lifting his tousled head.

"Absolutely." Poison is not going to fuss if it means Jack takes a real, substantial break besides passing out to sleep.

"Do I have to get dressed?" Says Jack, rolling out of bed and stretching both arms over his head. "I could put on underwear."

Poison snorts. "If you wanna be in the kitchen naked, I'm not gonna stop you." He prefers to wear some kind of clothing when not in the bedroom, but he can also acknowledge that's a super personal preference.

Jack grins and pulled on underwear, black cotton that rode obscenely low on his ass.

"What do you want to eat, boo?" It had started off ironic but now he was pretty sure I was sticking.

Poison bites his lip, taking a moment to appreciate the underwear. Then he looks up at Jack's face. "Oh, I dunno. Whatever you want, you're the one working hard." He rolls out of bed, since apparently he's coming to, and grabs his boxer briefs off the floor. He pulls his t-shirt back on, too.

He's used to Poison getting dressed whenever they get out of bed. He doesn't take it personally.

"Do I get you all afternoon or is Dee expecting you home?"

"I told her I'd be with her for dinner," he says, following Jack to the kitchen. "You could join us, y'know."

"I don't think she likes me," says Jack, padding over to the fridge and, after a moments deliberation, grabbing left over stir fry. B

Poison wrinkles his nose. "She totally mostly likes you," he insists.

"She spends a shitload of time talking to me about Ghoul," points out Jack, shoving the food into the microwave.

Poison leans on the counter and stares at it. "Does she?" He rubs his hair. "I mean, he was her other dad, or whatever."

Jack leans back against the counter, studying Poison for a moment. He rubs his cheek, still sore.

"I know," he says. "I'm not saying I don't get it."

"Want me to say something?" He lifts his head, eyebrows drawn together a bit. He would. He didn't want anyone making Jack feel bad, not even Sunny.

Jack shakes his head and then pushes away from the counter, crossing the space between them to wrap his arms around Poison from behind. N

"Do you want to talk about?"

Poison shrugs. "What is there to talk about? I know he's dead now." And he's still trying to cope with that as much as he can. "He's the only persons he's ever seen me with, that's all."

Jack nods, rests his chin against Poison's shoulder. "Still. If you want to talk about it. About him?"

He takes a shaky breath. "I-- do you really wanna hear?" He's tried so hard not to talk about Ghoul around Jack.

"Yeah," he says, squeezing Poison gently. "Yeah, I want to hear."

"Eat first," he insists, giving Jack a nudge. "Or I'll talk while you eat. What do you want to know...?"