misanthrope_md | for Jack

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jack

for Jack

[taking place on the night of all this]

House didn't have much of a sense of time on the island, generally, but he did know when it was getting to be really late. Still, he knew Jack, and his bizarre sleeping habits, and so usually wasn't that surprised if he came back to the hut late, just having been visiting friends or in the compound and not really caring that it was midnight.

But House did like sleep, and so it was probably around midnight when he zonked out, arm splayed out across Jack's pillow.

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This was one of those times that House felt like he and Jack were speaking a completely different language. "Stay where? Need you how?"

"Stay. Not leave." Jack craned his head back, looking at the ceiling. "I don't know. It's an in the moment thing. She needed me to hold her, it felt good and right and so I did. I asked her what she wanted from me, she asked me what I wanted from her...you know, it's not something I analyze, Greg."

"To hold her? What was she upset about? After seeing us in bed together? Do you realize how completely screwed up that sounds, Jack?"

Though to be honest, he was more annoyed with Stacy than with Jack. Jack was... Jack. He couldn't resist a woman batting her eyelashes and looking vulnerable. And of all the men on the island, she had to go to him? For god's sake, what was it with the women in his life? Didn't they meet anyone else?

"Maybe about not being real? Having her life on television somewhere? Or maybe...that she's still in love with someone who makes her crazy. Maybe because she cheated on her husband?" he asked, looking at him like he'd lost his mind. "Are you really that dense, Greg? Sometimes people just need held. Okay, maybe not you, but you're not like most people."

"Okay," House sighed, "fine. Whatever. Let me just remind you that you once made the Doctor off limits to me. And somehow I don't think you'd like it very much if you walked in and found what's-her-name - Rose - curled up in my arms."

"Since you don't even know her name, I really don't think I need to worry," Jack laughed, but only for a second. "Are you making Stacy off limits? I told her you might."

"Off limits?" House snorted. "You know what... no. I don't care. Do what makes you happy, Jack, I'm tired of drawing lines for you."

"What if what makes me happy is watching you take her to bed?"

House's mouth dropped open at that, and he couldn't even respond, just stared at Jack in horror.

He barely shrugged and settled into his pillow. "Just pointing out that maybe you should think before you say things like that, Greg. You're tired of drawing lines, I'm tired of apologizing, and you know what makes me happy."

"I thought I made you happy," House said irritably. "You just seem awfully preoccupied lately with me fucking old lovers."

A sudden chill seeped into the bed and Jack sat up and turned his back to House as he looked for where he'd kicked off his shoes and clothes.

House sank back down into the mattress and closed his eyes. He waited a long beat, only certain that Jack was still sitting there because he hadn't felt the mattress move.

Then he reached out and laid his palm between Jack's shoulder blades.

He stopped looking, closed his eyes, and took a soft breath.

"I like her, Greg. It was nice to talk to someone who knows you. Knows..."

Knows this. How a hand on the back can make everything stop. How being close is better than being away. How as much as it sometimes burned, you just couldn't walk away.

"...I don't want her to be off limits."

House didn't move his hand; in fact, it froze right where it lingered on Jack's back.

"I didn't say that. I don't tell you who you can and can't be friends with."

Jack looked back over his shoulder. "Did you hear how you said My Stacy?" he asked incredulously.

House sighed. "I was clarifying. Jack, I've never told you not to talk to someone, not to be friends with someone. There's a difference between talking to someone and fucking them."

"I haven't fucked anyone but you in so long, Greg," he replied, his back tensing. "I wish you'd stop thinking I'm going to just because I want to."

"I know that! Look, I don't have a problem with you and Stacy. Okay? No problem. I'm glad you have friends. I'm glad she has friends. Just... don't remind me about the kiss thing, and don't... don't encourage any soul searching about me."

"Okay. Next time we talk, I'll tell her to drop it," he replied, laying back down.

"She'd be happier if Mark was here anyway," House muttered softly, then wrapped an arm around Jack.

No, Jack was fairly certain she wouldn't. However, what was said on the beach would stay on the beach, and Jack kept quiet. He curled in against House and kissed him, his lips still holding onto the taste of lipstick.

"I'm happier here with you."

Suddenly House stiffened a little. "And I suppose this is the part where I'm supposed to pretend you don't taste like lipstick, in the interest of keeping peace," he said coolly.

Jack pulled back and dragged his fingers across his lips. "Don't pretend. I told you she kissed me. I kissed her back. Well, not her back. In return. And, you know...but it was just a kiss, Greg. She was...sad. I held her and made her feel better. I told you all this...to you want the play by play? I walked in and the films were going. She made a crack about being a television star and curled up against me. I held her. We talked a lot about you. She kissed me. I kissed her. She held me. I held her. I told her I belong to you, she said she didn't want to jeopardize anything...want me to keep going?"

House was quiet for a long moment, then sighed. "No, thank you. I'm going back to sleep."

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