rockabillyboy | (no subject)

"Maybe a little," murmurs Jack, his eyelids drifting closed under the light touch of Poison's fingers.

"Well, you love someone weird." He smiles and lightly tugs Jack's hair. "What're you feelin' next, baby?" Poison's in no hurry - this actually feels really nice, just laying here with Jack against him.

"I just want to lie here for a minute," says Jack, a little dozy, his cheek still pressed against Poison's bare skin. "Just...like this. It's nice."

Poison smiles at the ceiling and his other hand drops down to play in Jack's hair. "I'm good with this, baby. I really am."

"This isn't so bad," says Jack. "For a first try at a relationship." He laughs. "Jesus. I still can't get my head around that."

"I feel like I've put you through the ringer already, and it hasn't even been that long." He rubs Jack's neck with his other hand, content to just touch him.

"I'd do it again," says Jack, relaxing in against Poison. "You needed me, so I was there." He rolls one shoulder in a shrug, his eyes still closed. "I'd do anything you needed me to, Poison."

Poison smiles and brushes his fingers down Jack's cheek. "I'd do anything for you," he echoes, sort of.

Jack lifts his head, shifting until he's lying with his head on the pillow next to Poison's, one arm thrown across his waist.

"Tell me something," he says. "Something true. About your life before?" He frowns. "Not with...the Killjoys. Your life before the war."

Poison frowns a little. "That guy burned away a long time ago, Jack." He looks down, eyebrows drawing together a bit. "He became Party Poison."

He plucks at the drawstring of his pajama pants.

"He drew a lot. He had a brother and a mom that could beat up anyone else's mom. His family moved from the east coast to the west coast, thinking things might be a little better out there."

"I didn't mean to make you feel..." He frowns. "I love who you are now, okay? I just...I want to know everything." He touches the side of Poison's face. "All of you, you know?"

Poison turns his head towards Jack's touch. "I'll work on getting there... promise. Just. Everything before Poison had to go away for a while. You met that kid for a few days and it freaked both of you out." He smiles a little.

Maybe it isn't completely fair to say it like that - but it was also a little true. The insecurity, the fear, the pain. Those were all things that the persona of Poison had been built to hide.

"I freaked out because I found you covered in your own blood, Poison," says Jack, his tone gently admonishing. "You can be whatever you need to around me. Always."

"What if there hadn't been blood? Just me with a smudge of dark hair, totally despondent?" Poison kind of wants to know. Because if he hadn't gotten out of bed, that's what Jack would've found.

"Then I'd have made you eat and got in there with you," he says, gently. "Whatever you needed me to do. You scared the shit of me and I had no choice but to cope for you." He shrugs.

"You've always got a choice, Jack," he says with a little sigh, though he gets what Jack means. He eases closer to cuddle against him.

"I had brown hair."

"Not when you were like that. Dee needed me too." He wraps both arms around Poison. "What shade? Lighter or darker than mine?"

"I think about the same." He reaches up to touch Jack's hair. "Maybe a little different? It's been a while since I've seen it."

Jack leans back like he's trying to picture it.

"Yeah, I can't see that," he says, smiling.

"Maybe someday, I don't know." He's sure Girl wouldn't be thrilled, and he's also not sure he can just go back to being that person. He's been Poison a long time. And maybe they overlap in a lot of ways, but yeah.

"I like the red," he says, tugging on a strand, teasing lightly. "How old was he when you moved to California?"

"Just a kid still. Ten, I guess?" Poison nods a bit, thinking that sounded right. "Mom didn't want us being that close to D.C. I guess."

"Yeah, that's young," he says. "I can still hear Jersey when you talk, though."

Poison grins a little. "Yeah?" He nudges his nose against Jack's cheek. "What would you know about Jersey, California boy?"

"Kavinsky's from New Jersey," he says. "Well. Sort of. And I had a couple of friends at school whose parents moved West." He smiles. "Never lived anywhere but San Francisco."