rockabillyboy | (no subject)

Jack winces when he hears Poison's tone of voice, the weight on that single word. He glances back over his shoulder, a smile ghosting at the corner of his mouth.

"Hey," he says, quietly. He's not sure if Dee's home. "Did I wake you?"

"No," he answers. Poison has no idea what to do, what to say. Krem said to be honest, to tell Jack he regrets saying it was okay. But how could he do that to Jack?

He wants to ask if he had a good night.

He also doesn't want to know.

Stop it, a voice tells him.

"I thought--" No, he doesn't want to start with that. "Are you--" Not that either. Poison frowns. He needs to say something. Uncertain, but desperately trying to be supportive, he asks, "Did you have fun?"

Jack stays clothed, stretches out next to Poison in his jeans and his t-shirt. He turns his head, studying the shape of his boyfriend on the bed for a moment. He can't shake the feeling that he's fucked something up.

"Do you really want to know?"

Poison makes a somewhat helpless gesture. He's in a light, long-sleeved shirt. Under the blanket he's wearing pajama bottoms.

"Yeah, I want to know if you're okay. Of course I do."

He wants to be mad. He wants to scream. He's trying so hard to just-- to be okay with this, like he said he would be, and he doesn't know how to do that. But he's trying.

"You didn't ask me if I was okay, baby. You asked me if I had fun." He glances at Poison, at the way he gestures, at the look on his face in the dimly lit bedroom. "Yeah, I'm okay. Yeah, I had fun. What did you do? Did you hang out with Dee?"

"Both are important," he says with a little shrug.

"Yeah, for a while. Then she wanted to go hang out with Carson for a bit, so I went downstairs to hang out with Krem." He doesn't mention getting drunk on a few bottles of wine.

Jack can't shake the uneasy, wobbling feeling in the pit of his stomach. He rolls onto his side and looks at Poison for a long moment and then he reaches out, touching Poison's chest lightly.

"What?"

"Do you want to like... share? What do you need?" If he can just not think about himself, and how he feels, maybe it'll be okay.

"I want to know why you sound like that," says Jack, softly. He frowns, pressing his palm against Poison's chest, feeling his heartbeat thudding in his palm. "Why do I suddenly feel like I'm in trouble, baby?"

"Why I sound like what? I've never done this before. I'm trying." Poison frowns. His heart is pounding. Shit, he can't do this; he sits up and pushes his fingers through his hair.

"I wasn't-- I wasn't expecting you back tonight." He has no idea what he was expecting. For him to be able to handle his own shit, maybe, instead of wanting to be angry at Jack for something he said was okay.

"Where else was I supposed to be?" asks Jack. He stays where he is for the moment, sprawled on his back, looking up at Poison. "You sound like you're...I don't know. But you don't sound good, Poison. Did I fuck up?"

"You're fine." Poison isn't, but Jack is, and that's okay. "I'm-- I'm glad it was good." He sort of is. Good experiences are... good. He can't escape the feeling knotting in his chest.

"Poison." Jack's voice is flat, his expression concerned. "Baby. You've got to...I need to know what's in your head, okay? Because clearly, everything here? Is not good. And I need to know what I did wrong by coming home."

Poison gets out of bed, because he feels trapped there and he hates it. He pushes his fingers into his hair, shaking his head.

"You!" he snaps. "You're in my head. You and Kavinsky and-- and not me. All night." The threesome was fine, it was good, because he didn't feel like he could lose Jack to someone else while it was happening. He felt included; wanted. This-- this feels awful for some reason.

"You said it was okay," snaps Jack, even if he feels like he's on unstable ground, like he's teetering. "I asked you. You said it was okay. I would never have gone if I thought it bothered you, Poison. And you know it."

"Yes, I know that. And I thought I would be okay, but then I wasn't."

What is he doing. He needs to shut up. He needs to stop saying things.

"What am I supposed to do when I get a text saying that you're drunk and you want this other guy? And I always... want you to have what you want." He rubs his cheek. He's digging a hole here and he can't get out.

"Well you should have fucking told me."

The curse explodes out of Jack and he's embarrassed the minute that he does. "Jesus. You're supposed to tell me the truth. You're supposed to say something. I thought you were okay, Poison. Or I never would hae gone."

Poison knows this is his fault. If he'd just said no, maybe it wouldn't have happened.

"You couldn't have called? You couldn't have-- have told me sooner that you might want to fuck someone else? It fucking blindsided me, Jack. In a text message." Poison's jaw tightens, and he struggles not to just dissolve right there. It's his fault.

"What did you need to get out of your system?" What did Jack want that Poison couldn't be there for? He shakes his head, waves off the question. "No, maybe don't answer that."

"I didn't...You make it sound..." He sits up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "Wanting to fuck Kavinsky. I had to get that out of my system. Because that's all it was, Poison. An itch that got scratched. It's....nothing. Not compared to this."

"You said you could never share me Jack, and that's what you just asked me to do." He rubs his hair. "What would you have done if it was me, Jack? If it was me texting you, saying I'm drunk and I wanna go home with someone?"

Would Jack have thought to tell him no, via text? If so maybe this really is all on him.

Jack shakes his head, because that isn't what happened, is it? But he had said that. He remembers saying that.

"I'd..." He sighs. "I'd have said yes." His jaw tightens. "But I'd hate it."

Poison gestures a bit when Jack comes to his conclusion.

"If we'd negotiated, talked ahead of time, I could've handled this better. BUt it came out of nowhere, and this isn't shit you do spur of the moment. But I said you could, and you did, and I can't--" He feels like he can't be mad at Jack, as much as he wants to be.

Edited 2016-07-30 21:45 (UTC)

"I didn't plan on it," says Jack, and he hates the sullen sound of his voice right then. "I was just...we were hanging out, he was working, and..." He shrugs. "I don't know, Poison. But it happened. And I asked and I thought...I sincerely thought you were okay with it or I never would have gone."

"I get that. But I'm not okay." Poison shrugs. He has no idea what to do about that - he really doesn't. "I'm trying to be. Maybe I just need time to get over it. It's my fault it happened, I guess."

"I'm sorry I fucked up," says Jack, quietly, because, as far as he can see, none of this is actually Poison's fault. "Baby, please. C'mere and sit with me. Talk to me."