Kinktober Fic Challenge Day 14: Aftercare
Overwatch, Reaper76. #5 in the SEP Slow Burn series!
JUST WHEN YOU THOUGHT IT WAS SAFE, Kinktober develops ANGSTY PINING. It’s…not even kinky, actually. It barely even mentions sex.
***
Sometimes Jack thinks the way Gabriel looks after him is the worst part about all of this.
He gives Gabriel his best attempt at a smile when he comes through the door. Judging from Gabe’s expression, it’s not very convincing. He watches the changes flit over his face, passing through a couple he can’t read clearly, and then Gabriel heads over to start putting on a fresh pot of coffee.
Shame forces Jack to his feet. “Gabe, no, I can do that.” It’s just fucking coffee. He’s not an invalid. He doesn’t want Gabriel to feel bad for him.
“I know,” Gabriel says, in no particular tone of voice. “But I’m doing it.” He pours the water in and shoves the decanter back onto the hotplate, then comes over to flop on the sofa. Jack, still standing, looks down at him and feels something ease up inside.
“Sit down.” He pats the spot where Jack’s ass just was.
Jack looks at it for a moment, not sure what’s going on in his own head, and then sits.
Gabriel leans back with a sigh and squirms till he’s comfortable, long legs stretched out before him and hands folded over his stomach. The coffee maker makes it perking noises behind them. Jack slowly settles back into his space on the couch the way he’d been before Gabriel drew him up out of it.
“You okay?” Gabe asks.
“Uh.” Great response, Jack. Very convincing. He can feel the awkward hanging silence while he tries to figure out whether he wants to tell the truth. Or what is the truth. “Yeah.”
Gabriel grunts. It’s about what that response deserves. “You hurt?”
“No. No, I’m not hurt.” He’s not, but the idea of Gabriel worrying about him feels bruising.
Gabriel nods. After another few seconds of silence and cheerful machine-burbling, he lifts his right arm in invitation. “Come here?”
Jack sucks in a breath so loud he can hear it echo in their space. God, he wants. The sheer force of it holds him back, and he’s baffled. It’s not like this is new; Gabriel takes care of him all the time. He’s not offering anything different.
Gabriel’s got his head tilted, watching him with some concern. The sofa is shaking. Jack looks down. He’s shaking. “Oh…”
Gabriel’s frown deepens. “Are you hurt?” he repeats, with an intensity that says Jack won’t get away with a lie this time.
“No.” He meets Gabe’s eyes, wants him to know it’s the truth. “No, I promise.” He wants to explain. Doesn’t know what he wants to explain.
“Come here,” Gabriel says again, softer but more insistent. Something about his tone makes Jack relent and slide over.
He lets Gabriel close his arm over his shoulders and pull him in till they’re leaning together. It’s…better. Gabriel’s warmth pushes back the cold slimy wired feeling that’s been running through him, but there’s still a squirming shame in his gut, something in him wanting to push back even though he knows this is what he needs. He willfully ignores it and tries to relax into Gabe’s shoulder. Gabriel doesn’t say anything, and after a bit Jack feels the tremors die down. “Sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“Nothing’s wrong with you.” Gabe’s hand slides up and down the back of his upper arm. “You’re in a fucked up situation. It’s bound to get to you sometimes.”
“Yeah…” Jack squeezes his eyes shut, then pops them open again at the images that flood his head. He’s had some pretty wild sex. It all felt great at the time, but god, he feels like an asshole sometimes in retrospect.
The percolator’s stopped. The coffee smells amazing, the rich warmth of it driving all that back into the dark corners in his head, where as far as he’s concerned it can stay. “Here, I’ll get us some…”
“Don’t move yet.” Gentle pressure on the curve of his shoulder aborts his attempt to get up. Gabe’s got his head tipped back against the back of the sofa, eyes closed like he’s dozing, but Jack knows he’s aware of everything. But he tips Jack in just a touch more against them, turning their thing from a supportive bro-hug into something more like a snuggle. It feels so good…and the gnawing sense of shame in Jack’s belly sets its teeth in till it forces him to sit up out of Gabriel’s loose embrace.
Gabe opens his eyes and lifts his head to look at him. Jack stares back at him miserably. He wants to apologize. He swallows it down. It’s not his fucking fault.
Gabe’s still watching him, gaze cool and assessing. After a moment, he asks, “What do you want, Jack?”
Jack’s mouth twists and he pushes up out of the couch. “I want to get us some coffee.”
Mugs and spoons. Milk for Gabe because he brews his coffee so black it gives him acid reflux. Enough milk and sugar for Jack to turn it into something that’s closer to candy than a stimulant. Gabriel leans his hip against the counter and watches him while he puts their drinks together, then accepts it when Jack passes his over.
Jack stares into his mug and accepts that he’s trying not to think about something. He’s just not sure what. He’s got so much shit he’s repressing these days that it gets hard to identify the irritant at any given moment.
Then the movement of Gabe’s mug up to his lips as he drinks catches his eye. Oh, right. That. “Have I ever said thanks?” he asks, and then clears his throat because holy shit that sounded rough. “For looking after me the way you do. It’s, um. It means a lot to me.”
“Anytime.” And the thing is. The awful thing that twists in Jack’s chest is that Gabriel sounds like he really means it.
How the fuck is he supposed to deal with that? Or repay it? Or manage how it makes him feel? God, he wants Gabriel. Wants him so bad, and in so many ways. His skin aches in a whole different way than usual. Asking for any of it makes him feel like an asshole. Gabe gives him so much, just like this, more than he can even begin to pay him back for. The memory of how people were touching him just an hour ago—relative strangers, really, he knew their names but how much is that worth?—seeps through him and makes him feel sick all over again compared to the feeling of Gabriel’s arms around him just now.
Jesus, he feels like he’s about to cry. Wouldn’t that just be the icing on top of the shit sundae. He slurps down a larger than necessary mouthful of coffee to try to cover it, and then all but slams the mug down on the counter because fuck, that’s not working at all. “Gabe…?” And Christ, he sounds so needy. Like he’s broken or falling apart or—
Gabriel’s there. His arms tightening around him, body strong and broad and dense against his own. “It’s okay, cariño. I’ve got you. I’m here.”
He’s not going to fucking cry. He’s not. He shakes with his nose shoved into Gabriel’s meaty shoulder for a few seconds till he’s sure he’s got it forced back, and then…stays there, because.
Oh god, because. Gabe’s hand is stroking slow circles over one of his shoulder blades, and Gabe’s aftershave and sweat is in his nose, and he’s warm and firm and the way he fills Jack’s arms and this is the only place anymore that Jack really feels safe. Wanted. Himself. He’s pretty sure he’s digging his fingers into Gabe’s back hard enough that he’s going to leave bruises but he can’t right now. He just can’t let go. And Gabe doesn’t try to make him.
Gabe presses his lips against the side of Jack’s head, goatee rasping against Jack’s cheek and throat. “It’s okay, Jack. I’m here.”
from Tumblr http://ift.tt/2ebjSBa