Fic: "What Dreams May Come" (for eureka_tag)
Fandom:EUReKA
Title: What Dreams May Come
Rating: NC-17/FRAO
Summary: Jack dreams about more than just baseball and cake.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Property of SciFi/SyFy, Andrew Cosby and Jamie Paglia.
Pairing/Characters: Jack Carter; Jack Carter/Nathan Stark, Jack Carter/Nathan Stark/Allison Blake
Spoilers: Spoilers for 3x13 - 'If You Build It...'
A/N: Written for Week 5 of the Season 3.5 challenge at eureka_tag, Missing Scene for '3x13 - If You Build It...'
A/N #2: This is now the full version. Thank you to serene_quill for her help and patience, and thank you to all who waited for the final version!
Jack: “I usually dream about baseball, or global catastrophe. Or cake.”
Or Nathan, he thinks.
There are the nights where he relives the worst parts of the time loops, watching Nathan disappear before his eyes. He knows what’s coming, and he’s able to move and react instead of just standing and watching. Each time he does something different, trying desperately to somehow change the outcome. Trying to break the glass, sending Fargo in to do the manual upload, standing in the chamber with him, refusing to leave. Grabbing Nathan by his damn tie and giving him one last desperate kiss, giving everything to keep him from going into that horrid chamber and sealing all of their fates.
It never works.
Those are the nights he ignores the wetness on his pillow and his burning eyes when he wakes up, pushing away the temptation to drown the heavy feeling in his chest with Nathan’s favorite scotch. He doesn’t need to follow that path-he’s seen what happens when you do, and he doesn’t want that to happen to Zoe. She’s had enough go on in her life, and he doesn’t need to make it any harder because of his own weakness.
To this day, he still can’t go down into the time labs. Jo always takes those calls without being asked, and if anyone notices, they’ve never said a word. He just can’t face those walls without wanting to shoot them, shatter the glass into a million little pieces like his heart did that day. He knows it wouldn’t solve anything, nor would it bring Nathan back. It isn’t the right thing to do, even if it would make him feel better for the tiniest moment.
Then there are the nights he remembers their stolen moments, reckless flings and hidden nights in the safety of darkened corners. Rough encounters that were more aggressive than gentle, gnashing teeth and blunt, scraping fingernails. Those were the nights he came away the next morning feeling like a zombie, sore and high on endorphins.
The next day Nathan would have a swagger in his step that nothing could take away, and the room would crackle with something that made the hair on Jack’s neck stand on end whenever they had to work together. It always surprised him that they got away with it for as long as they did without anyone noticing. He figured they had to be giving off signals so strong that only people as oblivious as Fargo would miss it, but nobody ever said anything. People in Eureka chose what they wanted to see, he guessed.
Then there are the ones where Nathan’s there in his bed with him, talking, bickering, touching, kissing. Making love to him more tenderly than they ever did in reality. He likes to think they would have gotten to that point- after they had worked through all of their anger and lust… If they ever ran out of the lust.
This Nathan seems to relish every second of touching him, in a way that Jack never quite understands, and his body always feels like it’s humming with electricity, energy. And somehow Nathan knows what’s been going on in Eureka, about Zoe’s latest drama with hair boy or the latest experiment gone awry.
When he’s been injured, Nathan strokes his hands over those areas slowly, reverently, filling them with a weird, tingly energy.
Those nights are the ones where by the end, he fades into a blissful blank sleep to the sound of Nathan’s voice but wakes up the next day that much more depressed, because Nathan’s not really there.
Those are the mornings that Zoe always gives him an odd look over breakfast. The pain takes a while to shove back down into its dark corner of his mind, and Zoe’s always been perceptive. She never says anything, but on the worst of the days she gives him a hug or a kiss on the cheek before she leaves for school.
And then there’s these rare handful of reoccurring dreams that all have the same theme and weird familiarity to them. Like they’re real, but maybe just not here. Really, really, real. Except only in Bizzaro World would he be in a relationship with Nathan and Allison at the same time. A real, capital-R relationship. Not just a wild, pheromone induced orgy.
The closest he’s ever gotten to getting Allison in bed was the time she fell asleep next to him after she bandaged his ribs. And he was never involved with Nathan when Nathan was with Allison, because he just doesn’t do that kind of thing. And yet, he has these dreams of being in bed with both of them at the same time-- sometimes sexual, sometimes not.
Allison curled against his side, using his chest as a pillow, her soft hair tickling his neck. Nathan curled around the other side of him, warm and solid, hand possessively draped over him and resting on Ali’s hip. Ali riding him like there’s no tomorrow, with Nathan fucking him from behind in a mass of tangled limbs and overloaded senses. The three of them on Allison’s couch, sharing an intimate dinner and feeding each other more than themselves. Nathan cooking them dinner in his kitchen, sleeves rolled up as Allison watches from the breakfast bar, her hand loose around a glass of chardonnay.
Maybe it’s one of those alternate universe things Henry talks about with his string theory stuff. It just seems too… real. After one of those dreams, he can’t look Allison in the eye for a couple days. It’s just too embarrassing.
Sometimes she seems to notice his discomfort, and he’s grateful that she’s yet to call him on it. He doesn’t know what he would do if she did, because there’s honestly no polite way to say ‘sorry, I can’t get over the dreams I’ve been having about you, me and your dead fiancée who was once my lover’ that doesn’t end up with him transported to a Psych Ward.
But there are the ‘normal’ dreams too.
There are the nights where he dreams about baseball, being a star pitcher for the Red Sox, crowds of people chanting his name as he strikes out the side in the 9th for the save. Sliding into second base on the steal as the dust fills his lungs as the second baseman for the Yankees doesn’t tag him in time.
And the nights where he relives all the close calls they’ve had over the last few years, when it came down the near destruction of the universe, except this time they fail and they’ve brought the end of the world. Those usually end in giant explosions and blackness, and he startles awake, automatically getting up to go peek into Zoe’s room and make sure she’s ok.
And there’s the ones with cake. Lots and lots of cake. He doesn’t understand those either, but he always ends up at Café Diem the next day, ordering whatever cake creation Vincent’s come up with this time.
Vincent always looks at him kind of strangely those days, but serves it with his usual “There you go, Sheriff,” and sashays off to his next customer.
Today, he thinks, is definitely a cake day.
Fin
11/09
Feedback always welcome.
Link to all of my stories
Title: What Dreams May Come
Rating: NC-17/FRAO
Summary: Jack dreams about more than just baseball and cake.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Property of SciFi/SyFy, Andrew Cosby and Jamie Paglia.
Pairing/Characters: Jack Carter; Jack Carter/Nathan Stark, Jack Carter/Nathan Stark/Allison Blake
Spoilers: Spoilers for 3x13 - 'If You Build It...'
A/N: Written for Week 5 of the Season 3.5 challenge at eureka_tag, Missing Scene for '3x13 - If You Build It...'
A/N #2: This is now the full version. Thank you to serene_quill for her help and patience, and thank you to all who waited for the final version!
Jack: “I usually dream about baseball, or global catastrophe. Or cake.”
Or Nathan, he thinks.
There are the nights where he relives the worst parts of the time loops, watching Nathan disappear before his eyes. He knows what’s coming, and he’s able to move and react instead of just standing and watching. Each time he does something different, trying desperately to somehow change the outcome. Trying to break the glass, sending Fargo in to do the manual upload, standing in the chamber with him, refusing to leave. Grabbing Nathan by his damn tie and giving him one last desperate kiss, giving everything to keep him from going into that horrid chamber and sealing all of their fates.
It never works.
Those are the nights he ignores the wetness on his pillow and his burning eyes when he wakes up, pushing away the temptation to drown the heavy feeling in his chest with Nathan’s favorite scotch. He doesn’t need to follow that path-he’s seen what happens when you do, and he doesn’t want that to happen to Zoe. She’s had enough go on in her life, and he doesn’t need to make it any harder because of his own weakness.
To this day, he still can’t go down into the time labs. Jo always takes those calls without being asked, and if anyone notices, they’ve never said a word. He just can’t face those walls without wanting to shoot them, shatter the glass into a million little pieces like his heart did that day. He knows it wouldn’t solve anything, nor would it bring Nathan back. It isn’t the right thing to do, even if it would make him feel better for the tiniest moment.
Then there are the nights he remembers their stolen moments, reckless flings and hidden nights in the safety of darkened corners. Rough encounters that were more aggressive than gentle, gnashing teeth and blunt, scraping fingernails. Those were the nights he came away the next morning feeling like a zombie, sore and high on endorphins.
The next day Nathan would have a swagger in his step that nothing could take away, and the room would crackle with something that made the hair on Jack’s neck stand on end whenever they had to work together. It always surprised him that they got away with it for as long as they did without anyone noticing. He figured they had to be giving off signals so strong that only people as oblivious as Fargo would miss it, but nobody ever said anything. People in Eureka chose what they wanted to see, he guessed.
Then there are the ones where Nathan’s there in his bed with him, talking, bickering, touching, kissing. Making love to him more tenderly than they ever did in reality. He likes to think they would have gotten to that point- after they had worked through all of their anger and lust… If they ever ran out of the lust.
This Nathan seems to relish every second of touching him, in a way that Jack never quite understands, and his body always feels like it’s humming with electricity, energy. And somehow Nathan knows what’s been going on in Eureka, about Zoe’s latest drama with hair boy or the latest experiment gone awry.
When he’s been injured, Nathan strokes his hands over those areas slowly, reverently, filling them with a weird, tingly energy.
Those nights are the ones where by the end, he fades into a blissful blank sleep to the sound of Nathan’s voice but wakes up the next day that much more depressed, because Nathan’s not really there.
Those are the mornings that Zoe always gives him an odd look over breakfast. The pain takes a while to shove back down into its dark corner of his mind, and Zoe’s always been perceptive. She never says anything, but on the worst of the days she gives him a hug or a kiss on the cheek before she leaves for school.
And then there’s these rare handful of reoccurring dreams that all have the same theme and weird familiarity to them. Like they’re real, but maybe just not here. Really, really, real. Except only in Bizzaro World would he be in a relationship with Nathan and Allison at the same time. A real, capital-R relationship. Not just a wild, pheromone induced orgy.
The closest he’s ever gotten to getting Allison in bed was the time she fell asleep next to him after she bandaged his ribs. And he was never involved with Nathan when Nathan was with Allison, because he just doesn’t do that kind of thing. And yet, he has these dreams of being in bed with both of them at the same time-- sometimes sexual, sometimes not.
Allison curled against his side, using his chest as a pillow, her soft hair tickling his neck. Nathan curled around the other side of him, warm and solid, hand possessively draped over him and resting on Ali’s hip. Ali riding him like there’s no tomorrow, with Nathan fucking him from behind in a mass of tangled limbs and overloaded senses. The three of them on Allison’s couch, sharing an intimate dinner and feeding each other more than themselves. Nathan cooking them dinner in his kitchen, sleeves rolled up as Allison watches from the breakfast bar, her hand loose around a glass of chardonnay.
Maybe it’s one of those alternate universe things Henry talks about with his string theory stuff. It just seems too… real. After one of those dreams, he can’t look Allison in the eye for a couple days. It’s just too embarrassing.
Sometimes she seems to notice his discomfort, and he’s grateful that she’s yet to call him on it. He doesn’t know what he would do if she did, because there’s honestly no polite way to say ‘sorry, I can’t get over the dreams I’ve been having about you, me and your dead fiancée who was once my lover’ that doesn’t end up with him transported to a Psych Ward.
But there are the ‘normal’ dreams too.
There are the nights where he dreams about baseball, being a star pitcher for the Red Sox, crowds of people chanting his name as he strikes out the side in the 9th for the save. Sliding into second base on the steal as the dust fills his lungs as the second baseman for the Yankees doesn’t tag him in time.
And the nights where he relives all the close calls they’ve had over the last few years, when it came down the near destruction of the universe, except this time they fail and they’ve brought the end of the world. Those usually end in giant explosions and blackness, and he startles awake, automatically getting up to go peek into Zoe’s room and make sure she’s ok.
And there’s the ones with cake. Lots and lots of cake. He doesn’t understand those either, but he always ends up at Café Diem the next day, ordering whatever cake creation Vincent’s come up with this time.
Vincent always looks at him kind of strangely those days, but serves it with his usual “There you go, Sheriff,” and sashays off to his next customer.
Today, he thinks, is definitely a cake day.
Fin
11/09
Feedback always welcome.
Link to all of my stories