Backstory: August 1994, London
Later that night (catching up to backstory, oof.)
Jack sinks further into the plump cushions of the couch, popping the last chip into his mouth, polishing off his meal. He sucks his thumb in and sucks it clean; it tastes like salt and ink and vinegar. He balls up the paper and tosses it on the coffee table and shifts, leg comfortably stretched over Johnny's lap. Johnny is slumped into the cushions too, his face is half-hidden by his hair, the rest bathed in the flickering blue-white of the television.
Smiling dumbly, Jack crosses his arms over his chest and watches Johnny's eyes follow the movements on the screen, intent and, Jack can tell, coming up with things in the impossibly creative recesses of his mind Jack's only just begun to fathom.
There's a smudge of catsup on Johnny's lip. Jack doesn't move; waits for it. Stares, forgets himself. Then, yeah, there it is, a quick dart of tongue licking it clean, leaving the lip grease-slick and glistening.
"Hey," he calls softly, bumping Johnny's belly with his knee. Johnny makes a distracted inquiring noise, eyes flickering his way for a moment, then back to the telly. Jack smiles. "I love you too, you know."
Johnny's cheek twitches, the grin suppressed, but barely, his gaze obstinately forward. "I know."
Jack sinks further into the plump cushions of the couch, popping the last chip into his mouth, polishing off his meal. He sucks his thumb in and sucks it clean; it tastes like salt and ink and vinegar. He balls up the paper and tosses it on the coffee table and shifts, leg comfortably stretched over Johnny's lap. Johnny is slumped into the cushions too, his face is half-hidden by his hair, the rest bathed in the flickering blue-white of the television.
Smiling dumbly, Jack crosses his arms over his chest and watches Johnny's eyes follow the movements on the screen, intent and, Jack can tell, coming up with things in the impossibly creative recesses of his mind Jack's only just begun to fathom.
There's a smudge of catsup on Johnny's lip. Jack doesn't move; waits for it. Stares, forgets himself. Then, yeah, there it is, a quick dart of tongue licking it clean, leaving the lip grease-slick and glistening.
"Hey," he calls softly, bumping Johnny's belly with his knee. Johnny makes a distracted inquiring noise, eyes flickering his way for a moment, then back to the telly. Jack smiles. "I love you too, you know."
Johnny's cheek twitches, the grin suppressed, but barely, his gaze obstinately forward. "I know."