rockabillyboy | (no subject)

(no subject)

He's been worrying for weeks, now. He's known Poison for long enough to be able to see it coming: the crash that's inevitable. He's been texting with Kavinsky, knows that Poison's been unpredictable and fractious during recording sessions. They haven't argued, not exactly, but he's ebe intensely aware of just how easily they could be arguing, almost all of the time.

So Jack drives to the studio, and he gets Kavinsky to buzz him up.

"Come on," he says, through the mic into the studio. "I'm taking you to lunch."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I wanted to run from it," he admits. "I didn't want it to be real. I didn't want to bring it up because I just wanted it to go away."

Jack's hands are warm and comfortable and living, and feel perfect, and he can't believe he made Jack chase him down. But he also can. Because running feels natural and anything else feels like waiting to get hit. If he slows down, something terrible might happen. Poison has no idea what that thing is, but he's terrified of it.

"You know that doesn't work," says Jack, his tone soft, not trying to chide. He keeps up the movement of his hands, over the slightly softness of Poison's belly, the ripple of his ribs. "You know I'm here to keep you anchored. To tell you that nothing bad is going to happen to you while I'm here. Not if I can help it."

"Maybe six hundredth time is the charm," he deadpans, but there's something a little desperate on the back end of it. He wants it to work. Poison tugs slightly at the restraints, but he's still not going anywhere and Jack's hands are warm and firm on his sides, anchoring him to reality.

"I know," he murmurs. "But sometimes I still want to protect you from the shit that happens in my head. Even if it's not exactly great for either of us when I go all Lone Ranger."

"We're in this together, Poison," says Jack, softly. "Okay? I figure...I know more about you that probably anyone other than Ghoul." He glances away when he says the other guy's name. "You have to let me in. You have to let me take some of that weight."

"I know," he answers. He owes that to Jack, he knows that. But it still hurts and it still feels raw and he still wants to protect Jack from-- from what? He's not even sure anymore. Whatever thing lives in him that turned him into this. Whatever thing it is that let him survive so long in a place that's barren and empty.

But he's not there anymore, and he's not alone, either.

"It's hard letting it go. Like if I do, I'm just gonna be a mess you have to pick up off the floor."

"Luckily for you, you married someone who's got practice there," he says, keeping up the slow, soothing stroking of his hands. "Have you thought about talking to someone? Someone who's not me?"

"No," he says, and it comes quickly and almost definitively, but there's something like shame hiding behind that, too. Poison shifts a bit, but he's more or less given up trying to find a way loose. He's stuck, and Jack won't hurt him.

"I don't want it to come out at all. I keep thinking, what if I can't get it all back in? Or what if, once it's gone, there's just nothing left? I feel like I've been there before and I don't want to go back."

"Is that the advice you'd give me?" says Jack, tilting his head slightly as he looks down at his husband. "You don't mind when I go and see Bull because you know it does me good."

"No. I'm better at taking care of other people than I am at dealing with my own shit."

And he's pretty sure Jack knows that, if only because he's never made a huge deal out of the fact that Jack just sometimes goes to see the Iron Bull. Poison doesn't get it, but he doesn't have to, because it's about Jack and something he needs, not him.

Poison sighs and lolls his head back to look at the ceiling, and then a little further to look at where his hands are attached to the headboard.

"I'm not good at being a person."

"No shit," says Jack quietly, squeezing Poison's sides gently. He leans down and presses a kiss against Poison's cheek. "You're better at it than you think, man. You just don't always realise it."

Poison closes his eyes as Jack leans close to kiss him.

"Can we let my hands go, now?" he asks softly as he turns his head to nuzzle against Jack's jaw. He smells so wonderful, and he's alive and beautiful and here, and Poison knows he can trust him.

But he wants to protect him. But he doesn't need to, maybe.

"Of course," says Jack, knowing that it isn't tapping out, not exactly, but responding to it immediately. He reaches up and unfastens the ties around Poison's hands. "I don't want you to hide from me anymore, baby."

"I was doing better," he insists softly, like that made up for the fact that he'd tried to do an impression of a turtle in the first place. Hiding up inside himself, like he had some shell that would protect him. He did, sort of, but Jack wasn't on the outside of it. He shouldn't be.

Poison flexes his fingers once his hands are free, then he reaches for Jack to pull him closer, so he can kiss him.

Jack leans into the kiss, still straddling Poison's hips. "Doesn't mean you'll always be doing better," he points out, smudging their lips together. "And that's okay, baby. It's okay."

Poison pushes his fingers into Jack's hair, stroking across his scalp and down his neck, holding him. He pulls him close so he can bump their foreheads together.

"Still got it in my head that the best option is running," he confesses. "There's just no where to fucking go here so it's all in my head." He flashes a grin, weak but there. Then he gives Jack a kiss.

"I'll try not to shake you off again. I know-- I know you're good for me. I see you."

Jack nods and then, very deliberately shifts his position so that he can roll his hips down against Poison's, grinding against him through two pairs of jeans. "Let me get your out of head for a little while, baby."

Poison shivers and his hands drop to grip Jack's hip and his thigh. "Yeah? I mean, you did kind of lure me up here with illicit promises and all. Or... you heavily insinuated them."

He realizes that Jack never actually promised anything, just let Poison's imagination run wild. Clever.

"I think it's unfair to insinuate that I lured you to our own bedroom," says Jack, rolling his eyes, but there's the deliberate move of his hips again, grinding down against his husband.

Poison lets his head fall back, his smile bright. "You totally lured me. I was gonna suggest milkshakes or something, then there was all this... talk. Of doing things at home."

His hands slide so he can work loose the button and fly on Jack's jeans as their hips meet. His breath catches and he tries to focus on what he's doing, at least enough to actually get Jack's pants open.

"Milkshakes," huffs Jack, rolling his eyes and grinning as he keeps up the slow and deliberate movement of his hips as Poison gets his jeans open. "I think I want you to fuck me, baby."

"We gotta get a little more naked for that." He laughs, but it comes out a little strained when Jack grinds against him again. "Should stay like this and make you do all the work since you handcuffed me to the bed."

Poison pushes his hands under Jack's shirt, trying to work it higher, trying to get it off.

"You want me to ride you, baby?" says Jack, grinning, as he arches, peeling off his shirt and tossing it to one side. "Just want to lie back and be lazy and watch?"

"Yeah," he breathes, another grin lighting up his face. "I think I earned it, huh? That was practically surprise therapy."

He slides his hands down Jack's chest and his side, feeling the way the muscles move under his skin. He's so fucking beautiful, and Poison can't help the way he stares up at him.

"Oh, yeah, I think you've definitely earned a floorshow," says Jack, grinning. He preens a little under the feel of Poison's hands on him, arching his back a little as he rocks his hips. "You want to watch me get myself ready too?"

Poison bites his lip, then he nods. "Yeah," he breathes. "I want the whole show, baby. You know how much I like looking at you."

He's a little obsessed with it, maybe, but Jack'as usually pretty gloriously accommodating about it. He wets his lips and he's kind of painfully hard, but he can wait a little longer. He can manage some patience, he's pretty sure.

Maybe.

His hands slide over Jack's thighs and he squeezes before he forces himself to let go. Jack can't strip if Poison's holding on.