If you’re asking, I can’t say no

[eliotwaugh]

The sound of an incoming text stirs Eliot from uneasy sleep. He feels hungry and sick, and part of him wants to curl up and return to unconsciousness, but there’s a sense of urgency from the muddle of half-remembered stress dreams that makes him reach for his phone.

One arm reaches out from the cocoon of the duvet and fumbles at the nightstand. Eliot winces at the chill of cut crystal against his hand, and the subsequent soft thunk as the whiskey glass tumbles to the carpet.

He pushes the duvet off his shoulders and sits up with a groan, peering from the floor to the harsh blue light of the phone. At least the glass had been empty. Eliot squints at the phone as he reads the message—it takes a moment to parse and it sounds normal enough, but he wonders what the fuck Jack actually means.

It’s after midnight. Eliot can’t help wondering what Jack’s doing awake at this hour, if he’s alone in his own bed or unable to sleep. If Eliot had just asked him to stay, instead of being such a coward, maybe he would have said yes. Maybe he’d be here, instead, and Eliot wouldn’t feel like there’s something missing that keeps him from any sense of peace.

But then, if Jack could see him now, what a mess Eliot is, surely he wouldn’t be asking to do this again.

He seems fine with it being transactional, though. And Eliot wants to do it again, to touch him and make him happy for a while, even if the shame of how much he wants it feels like something stuck in his throat.

He frowns at Jack’s mention of the musician, and feels his stomach churn. His thumb hovers over the reply field a moment before he sighs and replaces the phone face down on the nightstand. He can’t do this now. The most Eliot is capable of is scooting the glass further away so he won’t step on it in the morning.




When Eliot wakes up again there’s light coming through the curtains, and by some small miracle his head doesn’t hurt. He doesn’t feel particularly good, especially when he looks at the food left out, and Jack’s rings. But he’s marginally more capable of dealing with the situation than he’d been last night, so he sighs and looks at the text again.

It takes Eliot a long time to formulate a decent response—he understands that Jack had something of an open relationship in the past, and it seems he’s just inclined that way. And since he’s made it clear that anything he does with Eliot is educational, Eliot has no right to ask him not to see Jacob. He really shouldn’t even be bothered by it. He’s hardly a prude and there’s nothing wrong with the musician, but Eliot can’t bring himself to enjoy the thought of Jack being with him. He simply has to grin and bear it.

Finally, he replies: glad you found it enlightening, I had a splendid time. If you feel like you want more ‘lessons’ I’d be delighted.
Re: Jacob— (Eliot cringes as he types the name) I don’t see why you shouldn’t meet up with him, if you want to. Let me know how it goes!

He’s done a decent enough job of not seeming too desperate to meet up again—but he still needs to confirm the boundary Jack’s set down that they’re just friends. So he’ll be friendly.

Eliot sends another message, hoping their regular social schedule can still happen: Were you still up for coffee on Thursday? Looking forward to it if so

That accomplished, he sets the phone back down. He’s too drained of energy to tidy the mess, but too anxious to sit and wait for Jack’s response. In the end he peels off his socks and garters and drags himself to the bathroom in the hope that a shower will make him feel more like a person.

Comments

[jackrackham]

Jack's brow furrows as Eliot quickly shifts away. Half dazed still, he blinks to focus in on what Eliot has to say. He's surprised about the sudden shift in mood, how he looks unsure and caught off guard.

Jack lowers himself from the bed onto the floor so that he's on level with Eliot, keeping an eye on his expression as he goes. After a moment, he extends one leg so that he can create a point of contact against him without getting too much in his personal space.

"Eliot, you can do whatever you want to me." He smiles softly, trying to keep his tone light, but there's no hiding his confusion. Eliot dictated this whole morning, Jack doesn't understand why he'd be worried about it now. There's a sadness to the statement, too, that he hopes doesn't come through. As much as he wants more from Eliot, he can't expect more from him than he's capable of giving. Everything between them feels so tenuous, but he does still want it.

He laughs lightly, but only for show. "As for Jacob-" He shrugs. "It won't be a trial, he's handsome. But so far, I've agreed to an evening of music appreciation in exchange for some insight into the time I'm from. The plan is to get back home- or at least out of Darrow, and that is still the plan. If my going on dates helps Anne feel better about wanting what she wants, then I'm going to do that, but it doesn't change what I want."

And if he wants Eliot, wants more than occasional sex? That doesn't matter. It's not possible, so it's not worth thinking about.

"I'll probably be thinking about your fine mouth the entire time, after this." Jack catches Eliot's eye, a faint blush burning in his cheeks. It's more than he would normally say, but he needs to be sure that Eliot knows he would still want him even if this date with Jacob goes well. Maybe Eliot is trying to disentangle himself and hand him over to someone else, but Jack doesn't want that to happen.

He studies Eliot a moment more, but he's not sure what he's looking for. "Do you want me to stay? I didn't want to overstay my welcome."

[eliotwaugh]

He’s bewildered, more than anything else, when Jack joins him on the floor. Maybe he shouldn’t be—one of Jack’s charms is how is doesn’t abide by the social scripts Eliot knows, so he’s off-kilter but not exactly anxious. Instead of standing and offering a hand up he’s here, they’re face to face, and continuing the conversation as if Eliot hadn’t been sucking him off moments ago.

He nods along. Jack sounds sensible, but there’s an undercurrent of something else, which Eliot supposes he should have expected. It’s an awkward arrangement, no way it couldn’t have been, even with the straightforward facts that Jack isn’t planning to be here indefinitely, and is comfortable with more than one casual partner. Eliot’s familiar enough with that, but it’s still, annoyingly, different with a friend. It’s different with him.

But he can’t offer any reasonable alternative, and though he flushes at the idea of Jack thinking about him when he’s with someone else, he can’t muster any pride at the compliment.

The offer startles him more than all the rest of what Jack’s said.

“Y-” Eliot starts to reply, before his thoughts can catch up. He wants to say yes, beyond all sense, but that’s a dangerous prospect, too impulsive. How could he possibly be honest under these conditions. Would you mind if we just cuddled? Eliot thinks, and imagines an awkward laugh, a polite refusal. Horrific. He takes a breath and smiles, hesitantly at first.

“You’re very tempting,” he answers at last. “We could probably lose a whole day just, mm, passing time together, but…” He could always call in sick, but there’s the chance John would Know the truth with his weird Archive powers, and he has no intention of making his personal business the subject of office gossip. “I’d rather actually plan for it, nicer that way. And it wouldn’t result in me getting told off by stuffy Englishmen.”

He sighs a little wistfully and meets Jack’s gaze with a soft laugh.

“My fault entirely for losing track of time…I promise to make it up to you later.” He doesn’t know when later might be, but they have a vague scaffolding of something, an agreement that they’ll do this again. It has to be enough. And in the meantime, he allows himself to imagine a moment suspended outside time, resting his head on Jack’s lap and being happy.