Welcome Back to Black Rock [Private]

[FaithWynters]

He thought for a moment the guy—Oz?—would be able to walk on his own. He pushed Jack away and attempted to stand on his own. It was a pitiful sight, and Jack just stood there watching him, with his hands folded into the pockets of his jeans. He could feel the warmth of blood as it slid down his side and began to soak through the material of his jeans. As Oz attempted to stumble his way up, Jack put pressure on the wound. It had almost completely stopped bleeding, and now it was simply a matter of the wound looking worse than it actually was. Once he got this kid helped, he would definitely need a shower.


So Jack couldn’t take him to a hospital—as per request of the man that still sat on the ground. It was a good thing too—because Jack wouldn’t have been able to take him to a hospital anyway. How would he explain their wounds? Yeah, this big monster thing attacked us and I fought him off with my bare hands, but he’s kinda fucked up. So could you help him? He could see that conversation ending horribly; he would probably end up in lockup by the time the night was up. So, Jack could only see one feasible option that wouldn’t land this guy either in a morgue somewhere or a braindead vegetable. As much as he hated the idea, he knew that he couldn’t just leave him here.


So, when the man finally gave up in trying to stand on his own, Jack pulled himself off of the wall where he had come to rest. The best way to get someone to follow your orders was to show them that they had no other choice. It was obvious that there would be no walking for Oz, so Jack pulled the pack off his back and knelt beside him. The man’s hands were shaking, and a small sigh escaped Jack’s lips. It was probably a little worse than he thought. That was fine—his apartment wasn’t far.


He grabbed the man’s hands, one at a time, and began pulling the pack onto his back. If he was going to have to carry him, the large lump would prove to be quite uncomfortable. This was the first time his face broke from the flat-line of features. He smiled. It wasn’t large, but it was there to show him that everything was going to be okay.


With the pack on his back, Jack pulled Oz’a arms over his shoulders. At the moment, they were slack around his neck. Once he went to pick himself up, he would either grab hold like he needed to, or he would end up falling backwards. The idea made Jack flinch, so he took extra precautions, tucking Oz’a hands into the crooks of his elbows for extra support.


“I need you to hold on, okay? This isn’t going to work if you don’t help me.” Jack glanced back at his dazed partner in crime before grabbing the area behind the guy’s knees and hoisting himself up. The extra weight, on top of his pack, was enough to make him grunt. It was a stress on his own wounds that he wasn’t expecting and his side ached. That was fine. He had been through a lot worse in his training, and he could manage pain well.


He felt the arms around his neck catch. Good. That was one more step in the right direction. He tested the weight a moment, before leaning forward slightly; it would be easier for Oz to rest on him if he wasn’t having to keep from falling back the whole time. He glanced quietly around the alleyway one last time, before walking silently back into the silver light of the moon, and down the sidewalk towards his home.

 

[DigitalPopsicle]

At first Oscar stared at him in confusion when the man - he was fairly sure it was Jack - knelt down baring his back to him. Piggy back? His hazy thoughts were confirmed when his arms were pulled around the black clad shoulders and made to lean against him. With no other choice, Oscar had to hold on, tightening his grip as much as he could, grateful to not have to think about moving.


Even in the haze of pain and alcohol he knew that sleeping after hitting his head as hard as he'd had was a bad idea, as hard as it was to stay awake. He tried to focus on small things, like the feel of the material of the blonde's jacket, the dark colour of it that didn't hurt his eyes like the lights did, and the smell of his shampoo; musky, maybe with a hint of mint, very subtle, and he liked it. He probably shouldn't be focusing so hard on how nice a random stranger smelled but he was being so nice to him.


"Thanks..." Oscar mumbled, holding onto Jack tightly, making sure he wasn't going to make anymore trouble by falling off.


God, he really wanted to sleep. His eyes closed, inhaling deeply to try calming himself, but just getting the scent of his shampoo again.


"Y'smell nice..." Another mumble, then his awareness of his surroundings faded, not noticing or knowing of anything. His grip remained, but his muscles slackened, the adrenaline running through his system vanishing and making him crash and switch off.

 

[FaithWynters]

It took him a while to get used to the weight, but it was a fine weight that equaled out across his back. He was very aware of the feeling. Soft breaths of air mushroomed from behind him and tickled his ear as he walked. It was a constant reminder of the injured man on his back; it was also the way he could monitor the small breaths that puffed in and out of his lungs. If he was breathing, he was alive. That was good. He was still alive.


The words that pressed into his ears made him smirk. They were unexpected, and pleasantly surprising. He was still drunk, and he was sure that he couldn't help from saying anything that crossed his mind in his attempt to stay conscious.


"Thanks." He was sure the natural response wouldn't be heard, because his breathing slowed to a point where it was hardibly noticible, and Jack knew he was asleep.


Another ten minutes of normal-paced walking and Jack was at his apartment. The hardest part was next to come. The building he lived in didn't have an elevator, and his apartment was regretfully on the fifth floor. So, another half hour was taken forcing himself, his pack, and the passed out being up too many flights of stairs. By the time he made it to the top, his muscles were sore and the wound at his side had pulled open and blood pooled in his shoes.


Finally, Jack was able to walk down the small hallway, unlock the door, and walk inside. He set Oz down on the small, broken down couch, and pulled the backpack off. He was right; Oz was asleep. He reached to the back of his head. No matter if he was tired or not, he needed to make sure the boy was okay.


He walked silently to the bathroom and grabbed a hand full of supplies. He needed to take care of the head injury that had bled down his back. Back in the living room, he used a wet rag to clean off the blood. Then, he cleaned the wound with alcohol. He was lucky that the boy was passed out, for the cleaning would have hurt like hell. He wrapped his head tightly, and forced two pills down his throat. He swallowed naturally; that would help with the hangover and the headache he would get. Jack leaned Oz back, and watched him silently a moment. Now he could let the boy rest.

 

[DigitalPopsicle]

It was a few hours later when Oscar was finally waking up. The sunrise only barely peaked into the room through the window, barely visible through the cracks between the towering buildings, but it was trying none-the-less. Shifting around on the sofa where he lay, the tattooed man slowly opened his eyes.


His vision was blurry at first, but after blinking a few times it cleared up and he was able to look around. Not that he could. Moving his head sent a jolt of pain through his skull that was accompanied by a wave of nausea. This was the worst hangover he'd ever had, Oscar thought, very slowly and carefully sitting up. Rubbing his eyes, he began to frown. This wasn't his couch. His was leather for one thing, and he refused to sleep on it even while drunk because he always woke up stuck to it in some way.


Swallowing back the nausea, Oscar turned to sit properly, putting his feet on the floor and noticing his boots were missing. A quick look showed him they had been neatly placed by the sofa where he'd slept, which confused him. What the hell had happened? Whose apartment was this?


With a soft groan of discomfort, he raised a hand to his head to massage the pain away, only to find a bandage and a wad of padding over the most tender part. Someone had taken care of him? Who was it? The name Jack sprung to mind, and after a moment or two of hard thinking he remembered hitting his head and a man dressed in black helping him.


The thought of a stranger sent panic warnings through his mind and he quickly checked for his wallet and phone. Both were in place, nothing was taken, he even had his house keys in there too. A sigh of relief. So the guy hadn't robbed him, but he was still confused about what had happened.


It was only then that the sound of a shower hit his ears. Maybe that was his saviour, he snorted to himself. Figuring he had a moment or two to himself at least, Oscar took a good look around, careful not to move his head too much. Every twist of his neck was just dull agony, and the room spinning wasn't helping his nausea.

 

[FaithWynters]

He had sat in the quiet of the living room for quite some time. It was mainly so that he could make sure nothing bad happened while the boy slept. For the most part, the only change in the room was a small shifting on one of the forms in the room or a quiet groan that escaped into the still air. Jack had ended up sitting on the floor, for there wasn't another chair in the room besides the couch. He only got up and decided to shower when his back and side couldn't handle the stiffness anymore. Now there was a dark blood stain on the carpet; he probably wasn't getting his deposit back.


He stood in the shower and washed his body until the crust that had dried down his side was gone. Now, three long claw marks cut across his abdomen; those would probably scar. He cleaned himself until he no longer felt grimy and the water ran from brown to clear.


Now, he was standing silently in front of the mirror. His hair was still damp and hung limply on his head. It not longer dripped, and the towel was wrapped securely around his waist. He couldn't see himself in the steamy reflection of the mirror.


Jack had expected the boy to still be asleep, so he hadn't worried about bringing clothes into the bathroom. When he finally felt like he was tired of the steamy room, he absently opened the door and walked out into the living room. It wasn't until he had made it three or four steps into the living room that the figure was sitting up weakly.


He felt the muscles in his body tighten at the sight, but he was able to keep a straight face. He ran his hand through his damp locks, trying to straighten his hair. The blonde hair was already almost dry.He debated on whether he should just ignore Oz for a little while or if he should make sure he was okay.


"How're you feeling?" He cast him a small smile; he bad forgotten about the cuts across his body, that he probably should have tried to cover. They would be hard to explain.


He was hoping the memories were lost. The hit to the head could have pulled the memories from his mind, and that would have been perfect. He knew he wouldn't be lucky enough for that. Now, he was standing, half naked, in the middle of his living room, with a stranger sitting on his couch.

 

[DigitalPopsicle]

First thing that Oscar noticed was that a very attractive young man just strolled into the living room and was now looking at him, wearing nothing but a towel. It took him a moment or two of staring at him with confusion to recognise the young man as the face that stared over his before being pulled onto someone's back and carried away. But any memories beyond that were a blur. He'd stumbled home drunk, gotten hit in the head, and this man had helped him. That was all he could make out.


He couldn't help the way his eyes trailed over his body, but any 'checking out' he could have been doing was halted by the appearance of the deep cuts on the man's side, wherein his gaze turned from confused to concerned. He very nearly stood up to tend to it out of instinct but the slightest shift from his position was enough to make the room spin again so Oscar quickly thought against it.


"I'm fine. But holy shit, did you get bottled last night?" Oscar asked, gesturing to the cuts with his free hand, the other still clutching his head; putting pressure on it helped the pain slightly. "Your name's ... Jack, right?" He added, eyes finally looking back up to his face.


The scent of that shampoo was there again, bringing back a few dusty memories. Apples and mint, clean and simple. It seemed like everything his guy had was just for the basics. Nothing fancy or flashy. Oscar kinda liked it.

 

[FaithWynters]

Jack watched as eyes trailed across his body, and landed on the cut that graced his skin. It looked a lot worse that it was. The strenuous walk up the stairs had made it a little worse than normal, but besides that, it was normal. The gashes were sealed with a thin line of hardened blood, and the surrounding region was a mixture of deep reds and purples contrasting with his pale skin; it really did look worse than it was.


Jack tried to look a little confused as he read the worried look on his face. Then, his eyes trailed down to his side. It was all for the sake of making his story more believable. In the long run, he was protecting him. He couldn't tell him about the monster. That would have been a huge mistake.


"Uh. Sorta." He let a soft chuckle escape his lips. Pulling his hand up to run nervously through his hair. This emotion was a true one; he was quite afraid the next few words wouldn't hit home and the lies would really come to the surface. "You were getting mugged." Her snorted. "You could hardly attempt to square up without falling over" A smile spread across his face. "So I stopped them" Jack shrugged and ran his fingers over the bumps on his side. It wouldn't be far-fetched to imply that the ingury had happened because Jack was protecting Oz. This is what had happened so he wasn't lying.


"You hit your head, and you told me I couldn't take you to the hospital." Again, not another lie. "So this is all I could think of doing." He gave an embarrassed slime as his body. Really, he could have cared less if he was shirtless in front of a stranger, but he probably wasn't too comfortable.


So, without another word, he walked out of the room and into his bedroom. Silently, he pulled on a pair of boxers and slid them on. A shirt and a pair of pants later, he was waling back out of the bedroom; his blonde hair had returned to its fluffy dry state.


"But yeah. I'm Jack." He smiled and came to sit down on the couch next to him. He turned slightly, and busied himself with unwrapping his head to change the gauze and check on it. "You're name is... Oz?" They were close, and Jack tried to keep from moving his head around too much as he worked. It was awkward, because he knew that he was much more comfortable with their relative closeness than the straight man sitting beside him was. He just didn't feel getting hit in the face or something, so he remained silent.

 

[DigitalPopsicle]

Mugged? That sorta matched up with his foggy memory. Walking home, stopping, being grabbed, hitting his head, then this man helped. It was as if his brain was giving him vague facts as opposed to the details of what had actually happened. He shook his head a little, as if trying to rid himself of the fog and haze but failing, just holding his head a little tighter.


"Well, I can't afford hospital bills so that sounds like me." Oscar chuckled sullenly, watching as the other male left the room to get changed. He was kind of cute with his hair half dry and sticking up all over the place.


Swallowing thickly, he waited for Jack to be done, secretly glad he was putting clothes on because he couldn't help staring. He was never the most subtle of people, having had a few altercations where a straight guy had thrown a punch because he was looking at him too long. There was a reason he didn't go to some bars now, not that he did much anyway.


Oscar nearly jumped out of his skin when Jack took a seat besides him, not hearing him come back into the room nor expecting him to suddenly sit so close. His heart was beating rapidly, but he tried to calm it when he realised the blonde was only checking on the dressing he'd wrapped around his head.


"Oz? Oh... heh, yeah that's my nickname." Oscar laughed quietly, avoiding nodding his head in habitual response, averting his gaze and turning his head so the other could check on his wound. "My actual name is Oscar. But call me Oz if you want. I get that, or Ozzy."

 

[FaithWynters]

The wound was better. It was no linger bled profusely down the Oscar's back. It had been awkward the pull his shirt off to clean his skin, and he only hoped that he wouldn't realize that the back of his shirt was stiff with blood, but his back was clean. He didn't have the nerve to leave his shirt of; he was afraid that Oscar might have gotten the wrong idea when he awoke. Jack didn't want that.


Now, he discarded the brown gauze onto the floor and applied new clean gauze. He wouldn't clean it again, for he knew the dark haired boy's head was probably already spinning. He spoke, and Jack glanced at his face a moment and smiled.


"Oscar. Its a good name, I like that." He tried to apply the pressure as gently as he could as he fastened the bandage back in place. He would be good to get home, but Jack wasn't sure his head would allow him to make it to wherever his lived. "How's that feel?" Once again, he wanted to make conversation so that he couldn't let his eyes wander or Oscar wouldn't feel awkward about him setting so close. "I've got some pain meds in the kitchen" Instinctively, he reached up and pushed a strand of hair that sat lazily out of place on Oscar's head behind his ear. His stomach lurched slightly; that had been a mistake. He felt the heat begin the dance over his face and chest. He cleared his throat and sat there, trying to act as if he were making sure the bandage was in the proper place. He really didn't feel like having to calm down a very angry straight man. They would fight as if their lives were in danger; Jack had a lot of experience with that.

 

[DigitalPopsicle]

"Like my head is about to split open." Oscar chuckled again hollowly, offering him a weak smile. "And a li'l nauseous, I guess... Dunno if that's the whiskey or the concussion."


He rolled his shoulders, trying to pop and stretch is muscles free from how they had been strained from his night on the couch. The back of his sleeveless shirt was a little sticky and stiff, which he supposed was the result of his injury. He'd tend to that when he got home, maybe throw the shirt out. Blood was hell to wash out, but he knew a couple of tricks that worked.


With the brush of fingertips by his ear, Oscar froze in place, not expecting the tender gesture. It was quickly replaced by the hand tending to his bandages instead, so he thought perhaps he'd gotten the wrong idea about the touch. He coughed awkwardly, joining Jack in feeling nervous and on edge. Jack was attractive, no denying it, and the tattooed male had to admit at the moment he was feeling like he was his knight in shining armour from what had happened last night. Or rather, knight in a dark cloak and battered armour. Never trust one in armour so shiny, it's all for show and has never seen battle, it's what his friend had said. But he was getting lost in his thoughts, and his cheeks were turning the shade of cherries.


"Thanks." Oscar blurted out, swallowing the thick feeling in his throat. "For... y'know, helping me." He coughed again, averting his eyes a moment before turning back to him, giving him another weak and slightly awkward smile, cheeks tinted red.

 

[FaithWynters]

Once Jack was sure that the bandage was in place, and once he was sure that he no longer needed to act like the only reason he had tenderly pushed the hair away was so that he could tend to those bandages, his hands relaxed. He didn't know, at first, where to put them, so he simply let them rest quietly in his lap. He hardly noticed the change in Oscar as he reverted to listening fully on what he had to say. His skin was-although not a dark tan- much darker than Jack's pale complexion. So he listened to the expression of gratitude happily. It was a simple way to keep his mind from wandering.


"Really. Its no problem" His smile was soft as he stared at the tattoo-covered man. He was an interesting prospect to watch. For the first time, the thought crossed Jack's mind that he was actually happy-lucky even- to have saved Oscar. It was a break from his normal and monotonous life. It was refreshing, even if the reason for their meeting wasn't particularly the greatest. About this time, Jack's thoughts trailed off into nothingness, and he realized that he had been blindly staring into Oscar's deep brown eyes.


He cleared his throat again, and if there had been any doubt of the heat on his cheeks, he was sure of it now. He said nothing as he pulled himself off the ragged old couch. Medicine. It would be a good escape.


"I can get you something that'll help with the headache." He turned back and flashed Oscar a small smile before starting part ways toward the kitchen. "As matter of fact, food might help you with that hangover too" He slowed to a stop a few feet away from the couch. He wouldn't leave until he had finished speaking. "I make a hell of a ham and grilled cheese sandwich"The words were followed by a soft chuckle and Jack watch the figure on the couch for a moment.


Maybe it would have been a better idea to bring him along instead. If he could get him up and moving around then it was a sign of improvement; at least getting him to the kitchen would be a plus. He walked back toward the couch, and stopped beside it.


" It would probably be good to get you walking around..." He turned slightly and held out his arm; if Oscar needed the support, he would be there. "Can you try walking to the kitchen for me? Increased physical dexterity after a head injury is a sign you're getting better."

 

[DigitalPopsicle]

There was a fluttering in his stomach as Jack smiled and Oscar was fairly sure it wasn't just nausea. The guy was really nice. He wouldn't expect it from someone who he'd just met, who seemed not really to quite give a damn about much else besides... well, that bit he wasn't sure of. He was fairly good with reason people, especially by tone of voice, simply because of where he worked. Working on the phones gave him a good indication of body language without actually seeing a person. Was he reading the signs wrong and getting ahead of himself here? He'd only just met the man.


A low grumble came from his stomach at the mention of food, and Oscar snickered in embarrassment. "I think my stomach agrees with you there." He said, gingerly standing up and taking a moment to gain his balance. "Those are some big words you're saying. You a nurse?" That was partly a joke.


The room span a little, and his legs were shaky, but he stepped forwards regardless. He wasn't going to be a potato on the couch causing hassle for the blonde who was being so welcoming to him. Following him to the kitchen, he lent against the doorframe and just watched him. Any further and Oscar would risk falling over and cracking his head on the counter if he didn't have something to balance against. This way he could still watch his saviour and talk to him without risking much injury.


"You whisk me off my feet and rescue me and now you're cooking me breakfast. What's the catch, Prince Charming?" Oscar, joked, trying to keep it casual and light, but he was secretly testing him. If he reacted badly to the light flirting then he was reading the signs wrong, if he reacted positively.... well maybe there was something there.

 

[FaithWynters]

It was a good sign when Oscar was able to get up by himself and stumble his way to the kitchen. Jack kept nearby just in case he fell, but the assistance was never needed. He seemed to plant himself on the doorframe, so that he could support himself. Jack felt a little bad, for there wasn’t even a chair in the kitchen for Oscar to sit upon. There was no room for a table in the small space, and Jack often ate standing up. He kicked himself; he should have thought this through a little better.


“Nope, not a nurse.” A quiet chuckle escaped Jack as he slipped through the doorway and across the kitchen. “It’s just something I dabble in here and there; it’s an interest of mine.” If interest was another word for learning how to suture wounds you got yourself and knowing how bad a head injury was before you needed to report in to the Order, then, yes, he dabbled in an interest of health and medicine.


For a moment, there was a silence that spread across the room that was only broken by the sound of a pan being pulled out of a cabinet. Food actually sounded pretty good to him too, so he was more than eager to make grilled cheese for the both of them. He began heating the pan and smearing butter on pieces of white bread. Then he remembered the medicine, and he glanced up at Oscar, who seemed to be interested in watching him work.


A pleasing sizzle escaped into the room as he slapped the bread into the pan. It was a good quick meal for the two of them, and the grease would help cut the hangover too. Silently, he turned and walked to another cabinet that sat to the right of the small sink. He opened it, pulled out a bottle, opened it, and shook it until two small capsules fell out. He glanced back; the guy wasn’t very heavy, so two would probably be enough.


It was as he walked across the room and to the refrigerator that the question was pressed upon him. He let out a nervous chuckle as he ducked into the—practically empty—refrigerator. The words sent up a little flag in his mind. Prince Charming? It was a strange term for someone to use describing another man. He returned from the open refrigerator with ham, cheese, and a bottle of water grasp in his hand. He then made his way to the doorframe, a smile on his lips.


“I wouldn’t say I’m Prince Charming.” He offered out the water bottle and capsules. “I couldn’t let you just wake up from unconsciousness in the alleyway, could I? You’re too cute for that—the mugger surely would have been back for you.” Once the two items were out of his hands, he turned away and walked back toward the counter. There was nothing wrong with a little flirting, was there? If Oscar got angry, then he would apologize to the end of the Earth and he would back off; sometimes, he couldn’t help himself though.


He tried to act like nothing had happened as he turned back with small cutlets of cheese and ham to place on the pieces of bread. He didn’t dare look up; he just chose to continue staring down at the sizzling food with a look of pure concentration. That would probably be the easiest of options for Jack right now—especially since he didn’t know if there would be some sort of physical lashing out for his words.

 

[DigitalPopsicle]

Part of his brain told him he shouldn't take the pills he was offered, that they could be any kind of drugs because they looked bigger than the normal painkillers. Oscar inspected them briefly, not really being given any other reason to not trust the man. If he was going to do something surely he would've done it already, while he was out cold. Unless he was specifically making sure he was well as part of some sick twisted scenario. He shook his head. He really shouldn't be watching so many crime shows, he was getting too many ideas.


Lifting the bottle he took a mouthful of water and threw the pills in with it, swallowing them both down with barely any trouble. The smell of the cheese and ham was making his stomach grumble louder, reminding him he hadn't properly eaten since before he went to the bars the previous night, and even then it had just been instant noodles. Placing the bottle on the side, Oscar dared step a little closer.


Jack was flirting back. It was... nice. It made his stomach flutter like when he'd had schoolboy crushes on the handsome boys in high school. Was it right for him to really be doing this? They'd just met, he'd spent the night on his couch, he was very aware that while his shirt was bloody, his back wasn't, so at some point he'd been cleaned up and he'd seen him shirtless. Normal people would find that invasive and be on edge and finding an excuse to leave as soon as possible. But something about this made Oscar just feel at ease.


Maybe it was Jack's smile, how sincere and calm it seemed. Or maybe it was that despite the flirting, he was actually giving him space and not being very forward about it. They were both tiptoeing around things, both aware that it wasn't the usual circumstances people tended to meet. Perhaps after today they'd never meet again, that Oscar would just leave and never see his pale saviour walking down the street or hear his voice. It was a possibility. It wasn't even a thought that saddened him, he wasn't that head-over-heels just yet. His thought were just running away from him as he watched Jack cook, now standing next to him and leaning against the counter.


"You think I'm cute?" Oscar questioned, an eyebrow raised and a soft smile on his lips, dark hair haphazardly sticking out from around the bandages.

 

[FaithWynters]

Jack was trying as hard as he could to keep from feeling like he had made is mistake with his words. Any number of things could have happened as a result of the way had had smiled and spoken to Oscar. Jack just had this feeling, though, and it was a feeling that he didn’t often get about people. Maybe that was because he chose to stay away from them, or maybe that was because he hardly had any experience with them. Honestly, it could have been his mind playing tricks on him; the feeling was nothing, and he should probably just let it go. For some reason, his mind refused.


Knowing was a problem for Jack. He was so inexperienced with people that weren’t like him. Secrecy had always made it a problem to have relationships. Actually, he couldn’t think of a single relationship he had acquired while being out on his own. Sure, there were the sweet little nothings of high school, but what did that amount to? Not really much when the boys were immaturely unaccepting and way too needy. So, his experience with people out of high school extended to buying groceries at the supermarket, and sitting silently on the bus. Maybe he had flirted a little bit in bars, but even that was hardly done. Besides, you couldn’t really call a one night stand in a stranger’s apartment the great basis for social interaction with normal people.


Jack had been absently poking the sandwiches with the spatula for quite some time. All they needed was to be golden, and he could take them out of the pan. That time had arrived, and carefully, Jack picked each one up with the plastic utensil in his hand and slid them on plates. It was a good thing that Jack had turned toward the counter and away from Oscar to cut the sandwiches in half. As soon as the words crossed the air and registered in Jack’s mind, he visibly grimaced. His face contorted into a flinch, and he momentarily stopped. He hadn’t even tried to read the tone; he had just assumed. Well…that was one less mystery to be solved, he thought.


After the food was cut, he replaced a very small smile to his lips. He would turn, and apologize. He would make up some lame excuse about why such a stupid thing slipped his lips. He turned with the plates in hand; ready to walk past Oscar and into the living room.


The apology never had to cross his lips. There was a smile? It sent a wave of relief through Jack. So it hadn’t been a question in that kind of sense. He exhaled the breath he had been holding slowly. Now he was probably faced with a little more difficult question. He now regretted saying anything for a different reason; any experience he had flirting with others was all while he was hitting on tipsy men in bars. That wasn’t preparation for this either.


“Well, you’re not—not.” The smile deepened on his face. “That bandage accentuates your features and makes you look just the right amount of helpless that you’re cute.” By this point, Jack was sliding past Oscar in the doorway; he was trying to get him sat down as soon as possible so he wouldn’t fall. “Kind of like a wounded animal.” The teasing came natural to Jack, so he thought nothing of it as he stood on the other side of the doorway to wait for Oscar; he still needed to make sure he didn’t fall on the way to the couch, and he would be there to try and catch him every step of the way.

 

[DigitalPopsicle]

Moving to follow Jack into the living room upon dishing out their meal, Oscar found himself swaying a little on his feet, but not as much as he could recall doing the previous night. He was just a little dizzy and disorientated still, but the painkillers he'd been given were slowly beginning to help. The edge was off, but not completely gone. Maybe after he ate they'd kick in some more.


Shaking himself out of his thoughts, the dark haired man was surprised when Jack stopped by the doorway to wait with him and make sure he was alright, his face flushing slightly at the kindness. Yeah, he was obviously flirting with him, but was that flirting serious or just casual banter? He couldn't tell... yet.


Oscar gave him a smile. He was quite adorable in his awkward way of hitting on him. He noticed he used a big vocabulary, but he didn't feel like he was trying to show off. Again, it was his awkward way of flirting. It was endearing.


"So I'm just some stray animal you've taken in and patched up?" He joked with him, still following him and was grateful when he could sit back down on the sofa and let the room settle down instead of spin in his vision, the smell of the food almost making his mouth water. "Not to mention feeding."

 

[FaithWynters]

The solid demeanor that had been Jack the night before had seemingly vanished with the introduction of Oscar. Maybe it was because Jack knew that if he shut the tattooed man out, then there would be a great chance of him leaving sooner than intended. It wasn’t that Jack was attached to him, per say, but he was very invested in the well-being of the man that now sat on the couch. He had protected him and saved his life; what would be the point of just letting him walk out while he was still injured to possibly hurt himself on the way home? This had caused Jack’s normal solid façade to fade; something that really had never happened before.


Jack offered the plate out to Oscar; he was sure that they were both equally hungry. Then, he came to sit on the opposite side of the couch, with enough distance from the other so that it seemed natural. He was very tempted just to play it cool. There were so many different things that Jack could have said in response to Oscar, but for a moment, he was silenced by gooey cheese and salty ham. It took him a moment to chew and swallow before he could speak.


“I wouldn’t say a stray animal.” He fought off the urge to take another bite of his sandwich. “Just a guest in my home that I must take care of and ensure I meet their needs.” He did take another bite, and chewed quietly for a moment, looking at the yellow bread in his hands. “I mean, you were hungry; I fed you.” He shrugged. “I don’t see anything wrong with that.” A sly smirk flitted onto Jack’s lips. “It just so happened that you were cute at the same time.” Another bite silenced him, and he would let it remain until Oscar broke it.

 

[DigitalPopsicle]

Taking the plate, the dark haired man smiled a little in thanks, sitting back with the food in his lap, just inhaling the smell deeply. It was like heaven. To try and pay for some recent car repairs he'd cut down to just cheap instant noodles. This was like a king's banquet to him.


Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Jack's movements. He fought the urge to edge closer, just feeling the need to be close to him. He supposed he was feeling a bit feeble, needing attention and taking care of. It wasn't unusual for him to feel so frail after a night of drinking, but he didn't normally have company the next morning, and it wasn't accompanied by a concussion.


"So... you're a saint." Oscar continued talking, snickering around a mouthful of his own food as he took a large bite, before cutting off the rest of his sentence with a moan of satisfaction. "Mmmn, the patron saint of grilled cheese, definitely. Holy shit, this is good." He talked with a mouth full of food, stringy cheese still connected from his lips to the sandwich in his head.

 

[FaithWynters]

The words seemed to roll off of Jack, and it took him a moment to really let them soak in. He had been lost in some unknown thought for a few moments, and only the exclamation brought him out of it. He took only a moment to glance across the couch at the dark haired man rump he returned his gaze to the front; his cheeks were a newly found rose color. This was something that had never happened to him, so the compliment went straight to the core.


"Thanks." It was the only thing he could muster past his lips. He would have said something stupid if he were to try and continue. The flirting had already been embarrassing enough; as he didn't know what he was doing, but now this? Compliments. He didn't dare speak. Instead, he bothered himself with shoving another large bite into his mouth and turning in hoped of the flush not being seen.


He tried to talk himself down from where he was. He's just being nice. It's just a stupid grilled cheese sandwich. He just doesn't want to get kicked out is all. Get your damn head on straight, Jack. The words danced through his mind, but all it achieved was sending his heart punching him through the chest.

 

[DigitalPopsicle]

While he did glance over at him a few times throughout their meal, Oscar was more focused this time on eating the delectable food he'd been given. He was practically savouring every mouthful, both because it was the first wholesome greasy thing he'd had in a long while, and that it was cooked by a handsome stranger. It was like a tale from fiction, and the tattooed man really had to get those silly thoughts out of his head.


"I mean it. I've had barely anything other than instant noodles and bread for weeks. This is like heaven to me." Oscar chuckled, licking a stray bit of cheese off of his lips with a grin. "Best thing I could ever wake up to, a handsome guy giving me grilled cheese and ham."


By now he was being more obvious. His earlier flirtations weren't met with disdain or disgust, so Oscar figured he could take a few steps forwards. Jack seemed quite shy and quiet. What Oscar hoped was his version of flirting was more subtle quips and comments rather than outright flowery prose, as he'd had from some other males in the past. The only word he could use to describe it was cozy.


Bars and clubs were his usual way of chatting to men. The one time he dated someone from work, it had ended awkwardly and Oscar found all excuses to avoid going to the team on the third floor because of it now. Others he'd chatted to online but they'd never really turned out well, though he had gotten a good friend out of one of them.


This situation was different, where Jack wasn't desperate and needy, or smelling of body spray and testosterone, or wearing a sweater and thick rimmed glasses. He seemed normal, average, just a sweet and quiet guy. And he hoped he wasn't wrong.

 

[FaithWynters]

What would happen once Jack deemed him healed enough to go home? What would happen when the bandage came off and he was sure that the subway would be a simple task for this stranger that he was growing an odd sort of attachment to? Would they just part ways and never see each other again? In Jack’s current circumstances, that seemed like the easiest and safest route to go. No questions. No worries. Just let the man go and he could return to the normality of his life that he was comfortable with. What if the normality that he wanted now was not the normality that he had grown used to over these countless years? What if he—all along—had wanted to enjoy the sweet comfort of other people in his life; not many, but at least one person that he could come home to and relax with, or one that he could go out and have drinks with and flirt with men. A friend or a partner. He really wasn’t sure which one he wanted. If he could have both, that would be great, but counting his chickens before they hatched would be a mistake, and he knew it.


Then, he remembered that there was another in the room. Oscar. A small smile ran across his lips at the thought of his name. He was really something else; something completely different from Jack. He was funny and so relaxed. Jack took another bite of his meal. What if that what he wanted in his life? No. Stop. He was getting too serious about things. He was overthinking everything and looking way too far in the future. He needed to be looking at the now. What did he want now? Well he didn’t want Oscar to just disappear after this was all over—at least he thought he didn’t. Maybe he would drop a hint. As he swallowed another bite, the opportunity rose.


“Well there’ll always be grilled cheese in this apartment any time you want; you don’t always have to eat cup o’ noodles.” Jack tried not to visibly flinch and he shoved the last corner of the sandwich into his mouth. If one could have been any more obvious, then Jack wasn’t sure how. It wasn’t some subtle thing that he had tried desperately to make it. Even though he felt like he had completely sounded desperate; he really hadn’t. His voice had remained calm and nonchalant and the smile had faded to a look of indifference. While he was freaking out on the inside, he had reverted back to the stone of himself from before.


Since his mind was in such turmoil, he did the only thing he could think of, and got up and walked quietly toward the kitchen to put his plate up. He said nothing, for he was still chewing the crunchy crust of his sandwich. When he made it to the sink, he flicked on the hot water and began filling the sink so that he could wash the dishes he had used; Jack couldn’t stand dishes being left in the sink after he was finished with his meal. Besides, it would give him an excuse to be out of the room for a little bit.

 

[DigitalPopsicle]

What was that slight tone he'd heard in Jack's voice just then? Nervousness? Fear? There was something there and Oscar couldn't quite pinpoint it, but the words alone were enough to make him think. That was quite an obvious hint the man would like to see him again, anyone would be able to tell that. Yet again that part of his brain that was concerned some random stranger just picked him up was blaring warning signs that maybe this was a dangerous thing to get involved in. There were always stories that had kind strangers turn out to be wolves in sheep's clothing.


He wanted to believe that this was real. As he watched Jack head into the kitchen and the sound of clattering and running water drift through the door, the tattooed man slumped on the sofa and thought, the last few bites of his lovingly prepared food being chewed while his mind ran like a hyperactive hamster wheel.


There was work tomorrow, if today was Sunday. So at some point he'd have to get back to his apartment and clean himself up because he couldn't afford a day off. Thankfully it wasn't a suit-wearing job so he'd just need to make sure he had a clean t-shirt and jeans to wear, ones that weren't stained with blood the way the one he wore now was. The point his mind was making to him was that he had no idea where he was in terms of getting home to get all of these things done. He could be halfway across the city. Getting back was going to be hard. Would he have to take the subway, would a taxi be cheap enough, could he just walk?


Sighing to himself, Oscar put down the now empty plate besides him for a moment to pull out his phone to try and check all this information. Black screen. His phone was still dead. He could vaguely recall checking it in the street the previous night and it still being the same as now. Wonderful. He grabbed the plate and stood up, padding over to the kitchen with a slight sway in his step. He was still a little dizzy but the more he moved around the better he felt. The nausea had passed now he had food in his belly to occupy it instead.


From the doorway he could see Jack's back as he washed the pile of dishes and pots from their breakfast. He wouldn't deny he took a brief moment to properly check him out. Strong shoulders, a rather nice behind, lean legs, he was very attractive all around, but his personality hinted that maybe he didn't talk to many people.


Walking over, Oscar pushed his empty plate into the sink with the others Jack was washing. "Thank you." He smiled at him, standing almost shoulder to shoulder with the blonde. "For the food and the offer. I'd like to see you again when you haven't had to patch up a concussion on me."

 

[FaithWynters]

Jack watched as the sink filled up with water. His thoughts seemed to swim with the bubbles as the sink filled to the proper capacity and the water was flicked off. He slowly began dropping dishes into the soapy water, watching as the water turned from bubbly and clear to a darker color. That’s how his mind felt. The night before, he had watched the man, stare dumbly down into the mouth of an alleyway. His head was clear then. It was a simple task. All he had to do was go in and safe the guy. It was simple, and Jack really thought that he could pull it off without Oscar getting hurt. Obviously he was wrong.


Then, the muddiness began. Strange thoughts that had never crossed his mind before had. Why couldn’t he have just left him for the Order to deal with? He had done it before. Civilians always had to be saved from werewolves or Imps or gorgons—the vast diversity of creatures within this city were astounding. There were many people like him that were posted throughout the city who were paid to kill creatures or steer them away from the danger. There were also many people paid to come take the injured humans and dead bodies away too.


Why had Jack responded so differently to Oscar? Maybe it was because he was cute. Jack shook his head and the thought away with it. He was sure that he had saved a lot of drunken handsomely lost men before. This had never become of it though. So the muddiness had continued on throughout the night as he watched the man sleep and quieted groans escaped from his lips with the pain. He was his protector. Jack had done everything he could to make sure that Oscar would leave this apartment well—or at least feeling better. It had gotten to a point now that the strange thought that he actually wanted to keep people in his life ran like a raging bull through his mind. He had never wanted that before. He hadn’t been raised to want that. Maybe… It was a new and tantalizing idea; it was a change; it was diversity from what they had wanted him to think and feel. Maybe it would be good for him after all.


It was the sound of another dish being dropped in the sink that drew Jack from his thoughts. At some point, about halfway through his cleaning, Jack had begun mindlessly rubbing a plate while he let his mind take him away. This kicked him out of the hitch, and he continued on, rinsing off the plate and sticking it in the dish drainer. He reached down into the depths of the darkening water, and pulled out a butter knife. He quietly began washing, hoping to ignore the fact that Oscar hadn’t left to go sit down again. He was right there and the words that passed through his lips told him that there would be no getting away from another conversation—where he would probably feel like he said the completely wrong thing—with Oscar.


“It’s really no problem.” The clanking of metal on metal signified yet another part of their meal had been cleaned away. Now, he was only left with the other plate that had just been dipped into the water. “I’ve enjoyed the company.” A small smile spread across his lips as he stared at the plate; it was the only excuse he could make up for not staring at Oscar. “I don’t really get company often.” An awkward chuckle escaped Jack’s lips as he unnecessarily continued to scrub the plate with the sponge. There had been little left on it besides crumbs, so there was really no point, but it kept him from having to speak while idle—which was sure to get him in trouble. He reached down into the water and pulled the stopper out of the drain. Then, he flicked on the water and began rinsing the bubbles off the plate.


“Just don’t go getting mugged again and maybe next time you can fully enjoy your meal without being so wobbly.” He set the plate in the drainer and began cleaning the little bits of food down the drain with the water. It steamed as it came out of the spout, but he was very capable of handling the heat on his hands.


“Anyway, is your head feeling a little better?” He had turned slightly now so that he was angled with the sink. He could better inspect Oscar this way. “I guess you made it in here alright, huh?” It was a hopeful smile this time that tugged at the corner of his lips—it had been a very long time since Jack had smiled. He flicked the water off and reached past Oscar for the hand towel that sat neatly folded on the countertop so that he could dry his hands.

 

[DigitalPopsicle]

Well Oscar had been correct in assuming he didn't speak to many people. That shy and awkward feel around Jack was endearing. The dark haired male was too used to people being loud and obnoxious, both at work and whenever he found time to go out. His last relationship was over a year ago simply because he hadn't had the time or money to go on dates or find anyone at all. He'd even resorted to trying out dating sites to no avail.


But he refused to let his mind wander down those paths. He hadn't even managed to ask Jack out for coffee or anything yet and he was already thinking about dates and being boyfriends. Was he really that desperate? No, Oscar was just lonely, and he felt like Jack was too. Perhaps it was a better idea to build up a friendship first, considering his obvious hesitance and shyness. Jack did have a sweet smile though.


"Yeah, I'm feeling a lot better. I think the painkillers kicked in finally." The tattooed man chuckled, rubbing his head slightly where most of his pain was blossoming from. "Seriously... thanks for taking care of me. It's been a long time since I met someone so nice. And good looking."


He winked, before realising how cheesy he had sounded, only made worse by the action that accompanied it. Realising how ridiculous he'd looked, Oscar groaned softly, covering half of his face with his hand as he hunched in on himself slightly. "Oh god, that was terrible, wasn't it?" Red flushed up on his cheeks as he blushed, biting his lip and trying to rewind time back to before he did and said that.


That was the effect Jack had on him. He made him feel like a schoolboy with a crush, his chest and heart feeling light and fluttery. Oscar liked the feeling, adored it even. He was in his twenties and there was the idea that he'd never feel that way again, that childish glee when someone took his fancy. It was making his dull light seem a little brighter, even if the flirtations never went anywhere and they'd never see each other again. They'd at least have this moment.

 

[FaithWynters]

Jack was glad that the medicine was finally beginning to take effect. That meant that very soon, he knew Oscar would feel up to going home. It wasn’t that Jack wanted him out of his apartment soon or anything, but he was sure that soon the awkwardness that radiated off himself would make Oscar uncomfortable or something. He had that effect on people. In the grocery store and on the subway… He was beginning to think though that he was a little different though, because there hadn’t been one time when Jack had tried to flirt that Oscar had downright pushed him away for it—he was even flirting back, or at least he thought Oscar was flirting.


And good looking. There it was again. Those little yet obvious comments and the winks. They were all signs that Oscar really wasn’t just…He didn’t know what words he could even use to describe him and before he could really ponder the thought, the quiet groan called his attention back to Oscar. Was he in pain? All of a sudden his face was flushed. It was a sudden reaction and for a moment there was a flash of worry across his blue-grey eyes. Then it was a gone; relieved by the words that seemed to be painfully muttered by his comrade.


The laugh that followed was a hearty one, and Jack couldn’t help reaching up and pushing another strand of hair back out of Oscar’s eyes. He would have the worst form of hat hair possible if his hair took to the bandages wrapped around his head; he could see trying to comb out that demon to no avail. It was very strange, however, that he would grow so embarrassed about such an obvious and maybe cheesy line. Had Jack not said things tonight that would fall within that category? He was sure there was a few.


“I don’t think being called good looking by another handsome man is a problem” He over exaggerated a wink before throwing the towel he had been folding neatly back onto the counter. “There, now we’re both terrible together.”


Naturally, as Jack glanced outside and realized that the light of the morning was beginning to cast a deep pink hue to the sky, he checked his watch. Almost without warning, a silent yawn escaped his lips. He dropped his arm and moved to cover his mouth, once it was over, he started walking slowly toward the living room.


“Well, I’ve fed you and let you sleep off your injuries.” He had made it to the doorway and stopped. Looking out across his small and neat little living room, the harsh stain of blood near the wall drew his eyes. “Seeing as it might take a while for you to get home—because I don’t have a car—and seeing how I’m sure you’re not interested in staying here forever,” he shot a smirk over his shoulder, “I think we might want to start thinking about getting you to your own bed.” Oscar was no longer wobbly on his feet so Jack knew that he was capable of the trek—wherever his apartment might be—within the city. They might have to stop and take rests if his head wanted to turn to soup again, but Jack had faith that the soupiness was almost, if not already, gone.


Without saying much of anything else, Jack crossed the living room and found a seat on the carpet next to the coffee table. His boots sat neatly in the place he had left them, and he began trying to slip them on from his position on the floor.