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poison

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It's not quite daylight when he lets himself into Poison's apartment. He'd showered at the hotel, but he's still wearing last night's clothes, black t-shirt, jeans, boots. He drops his wallet and his keys on the counter and pads into the bathroom, brushing his teeth before he slips into the bedroom. Poison's there and Jack finds himself relieved, even though he doesn't know what he was expecting.

The bed gives slightly when he sits down to take off his boots.

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"This isn't about me, is it?" says Jack, still focused on what he's doing with his hands. He can't look at Poison right then. "This isn't about what I need." Because he'd already worried more about what he wanted than what Poison wanted and that was what had gotten them here.

Poison shrugs helplessly. "I'm apparently trying to fill the silence, then. But I still give a shit about what you need." So yeah, he's asking.

"I..." Jack gropes around for what he actually wants. "I need this to be okay. I need to have not...fucked up the most important thing in my life. I...shit." He misjudges, slips, the knife biting into his finger. For a moment, he just stands there and watches it bleed.

"Fuck." Poison jumps into action because Jack is just standing there. He grabs Jack's wrist tightly to help slow the pulse of blood into his hand, then pulls him over to the sink. He runs the water over the wound, cold, to help numb it, then looks for his band-aids and what not. Finger wounds bleed like a bitch, even if they aren't deep.

He finds sterile alcohol and hits Jack's finger with it after pulling it out from under the water. It'll sting, but better than infection. Poison's a little paranoid about shit like that.

"It's nothing," says Jack, numbly, as he watches Poison deal with the cut. His breath hisses out when Poison presses the alcohol soaked cotton wool against his finger. "Fuck. Sorry."

"Fuck you," he answers. "You're hurt - it's something to me." When he's done cleaning he puts a piece of clean gauze against the cut and uses a band-aid to hold it in place. He doesn't think a band-aid will be enough, so gauze it is.

"You didn't fuck everything up, Jack. You did fuck up, though, and I told you I'd forgive you and that we'd be okay, but maybe you also need to let me feel how I'm feeling right now."

That helps, actually. Poison telling him that, no way to hide from it. Jack nods, letting him bandage his finger.

"Do you want me to go?"

"No," he says. "But I also don't want you to like... feel sorry for yourself right now. It sucks, and we both fucked up, and yes, I'm hurting. But you getting hurt because you're wracked with guilt? Also not helpful. Talk to me."

Jack nods.

"What..." He frowns. "It feels weird to tell you about last night. Like, I don't want it to be a secret, and we can talk about it, but it does feel weird?"

"It feels weird because I'm having a really hard time being supportive about it, when I set you up to think you were gonna be supported. And that's my fault." They both could have done better. "If you wanna talk, though, just... start. And if it's too much, I'll tell you."

"We hang out a lot. You know that." Which had the sound of explanation and Jack's not sure that's what either of them want. Sure his finger isn't going to bleed everywhere, Jack goes back to chopping. "We ended up going to a hotel because...I didn't want to do it at my place."

"Kinda grateful for that, actually," Poison admits. He might've had problems being in Jack's bed for a while if he and Kav had fucked there.

"I didn't want it to have anything to do with us," says Jack. "Not in our bed, if that makes sense." Even if they do spend more time at Poison's than they ever do at his place.

Poison shrugs. "I might've handled it better if it felt like I was more involved. I know you and Kav hang out a lot, which I guess-- if this was going to happen, I figured we'd.. talk about it before it did. Like actually talk." Not have to answer a drunk text message.

"Yeah, I really am sorry about that," says Jack, blushing. "Total asshole move." He glances up, unstyled hair tumbling over his forehead. "It wasn't planned or anything. I was hanging out at work. He stripped." He shrugs. "I'm an idiot. I let my hormones get the better of me."

"I know it wasn't. But that's the point I'm trying to make. I can't handle surprises - I don't deal with them well." He's told Jack that before. "But if I'm prepared, if we talk about... I could've been better. I could've made a decision - we could've negotiated. Instead it felt like-- I don't know." He shrugs.

"Like I ambushed you with it," supplies Jack, eyebrows raised. He bends down to get a pan out of the cupboard. "Like...I didn't give you an opportunity to say no?"

"Pretty much." He shrugs. "So I made a shitty, spur of the moment choice to answer your shitty, spur of the moment choice."

"Yeah," says Jack, putting the pan on the heat, nodding. "I'm never going to put you in that position again."

Poison nods. "And I know you said you wouldn't want to do that again, but seriously, if you ever do... I want to talk about it. Ahead of time." He watches him. "I love you, Jack."

It feels like a knot relaxes in his chest. Jack nods.

"Promise. I love you too."

Poison reaches to touch Jack's shoulder and scoots closer to kiss him there. "We're gonna be okay. Just... be patient as I come back around."

"I can do patient," says Jack, trying to find that zen place inside of him. He glances up at Poison, flashes a faint smile. "I love you more than anything." He starts cooking assembling ingredients in the pan.

"When you can leave that for a second, c'mere."

Poison waits, and as soon as Jack's close enough he pulls him between his legs and gently cradles his face. His thumbs brush across Jack's cheeks as he leans in, kissing him. When he pulls back he rests his forehead against Jack's.

"We're gonna be okay."

Jack leans into the touch carefully, the kiss. When Poison leans his forehead against his, he closes his eyes, fighting tears again.

"Promise?"