rockabillyboy | (no subject)

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party poison

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Once they're in the apartment, Jack drops his bag. He finds himself skittish, suddenly, which is ridiculous, but they've admitted to a lot, this morning, and it's taking a whole to settle. He turns to face Poison, starting to tug his shirt over his head.

"I need to shower."

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"Sir, yes, Sir," says Jack, tipping a lazy salute and then getting the pasta on before he goes back to fixing salad. "Did Girl say where she was?"

"Nope, and I'm trying really hard not to be nosy. And it's killing me." He pouts a little and picks his phone up from the counter. No texts, but he assumes that's a good sign.

Jack raises an eyebrow at that. He's not as much of a gossip as Poison, especially where Dee is concerned, but that's definitely interesting.

"Is there, like, a shortlist?"

"I mean, I know she has a few friends, but I haven't heard about most of them. She's just mentioned them." He does kind of wish she'd talk to him just a tiny bit more about the people in her life, but he's trying to be patient.

"She's being a teenager. You're her dad. She's allowed to not tell you stuff, babe." Jack nudges him with his hip. "I don't think my dad could have named three of my friends, back in San Francisco. He did take a real interest in Bex, though. Think he was probably starting to worry I was gay." He huffs a laugh through his nose. Look how that turned out.

"I know, and I want her to have like... her own life, her own stuff. I just want to still be a little part of it," he says a bit shyly. Then he groans. "Shit, my mom did that to me." He leans on Jack. "I'm my mom," he whines.

Based on what Jack knows about Poison's mom, that thought strikes him as hilarious and he snorts out a laugh, wrapping his arm around Poison for a moment to give him a quick squeeze.

"When are you going to get your nails done?" Poison wears nail polish, sometimes, but it's hard to imagine him in acrylics.

Poison pouts against Jack's chest. "I'd break them," he sulks. Then he tips his head up so he can get a kiss. "I'm not being an asshole, am I? Being-- wanting to know about her life?" He looks Very Concerned about it.

"You're not being an asshole," says Jack, wrapping his arms around him. "You love her and you lost her for such a long time. Wanting to j is about her makes sense to me, man."

"Just trying to be careful about it. Because I really want her to have her own life - one with friends in it and all that." He presses a kiss to Jack's chest before drawing back. "How's the pasta doing?"

"You tell me," he says, eyebrows raised. "The Italian mom think is pretty hot, by the way. Which...is maybe weird, but I don't even care."

Poison giggles. "If you ever call me Mami I'm gonna hit you so hard in a non-sexual way." He grabbed a slotted spoon so he could get some of the pasta out to try it.

"Hot! Hot hot hot," he fussed around the piece in his mouth. But he eventually managed to chew it. "Uuuhm I think that's about done? It feels done."

"What about daddy?" teases Jack, grabbing a strainer and the pan and dealing with them pretty expertly as he drains the pasta over the sink.

Poison cackles. "Oh my god. I mean I wouldn't be surprised if it slipped out with your 'good boy' kink." He grins and nudges his hip against Jack's after the pasta is safely strained.

Jack's cheeks colour a little, but he's still grinning as he sets the pan of drained pasta down. "Would it do for you?"

"I dunno, Girl calls me her dad so it might throw me off," he laughs. "But..." He bobs his head this way and that. "Could also be pretty damn hot, too. Might have to give it a try," he quips.

"I have literally never heard her actually call you that," points out Jack, eyebrow raised. "And you know I'd be up for trying pretty much anything when it's you."

"She did when she was little," he says with a fond smile. "And she calls me Dad now." He shrugs, then leans up to kiss Jack's cheek. "If you get all hot and bothered and end up callin' me daddy, I think I can handle it." He grins and bites Jack's earlobe. "Especially if you're trying to be a good boy."

"God," says Jack, swatting at him with one hand, rolling his eyes. "Don't do that when I'm trying to fix dinner. Didn't you get off enough today?"

"You started it!" he insists, grinning brightly. "Also I totally made a big part of dinner, so you can kiss my ass. That's an invitation, by the way." He cackles and dances a few steps away from Jack to avoid being smacked or something.

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