Looking past his reflection in the bathroom mirror as if to stare into a Magic Eye puzzle for its hidden image, Jack let his peripheral vision do the work of seeing Seeley's bathroom. Clean, ordered, cheerful, mirroring the facade booth brought into the lab for most of his interactions.
Everything stratified and coded. A place for everything and everything in its place.
Jack liked that. Understood it. It was the one part of military life that he actually agreed with and found soothing. Order out of chaos. The illusion of control. That illusion of control saved him being caught and forced into the crisp template of his family's vision for him.
God, he needed that illusion now.
A week spinning out of control with little rest, less nourishment, and spent wired on the razor's edge of fury and sorrow and remorse had left little to grasp.
He finished washing up, dried his hands on the neatly folded towel and swung the door open.
Booth filled the doorway, chest open, head tipped back, exposing his long, pale throat and the line of beard shadow that stretched across his jaw and down his neck.
He could have been waiting for nails to be drilled through his hands and feet.
The sight startled Jack into a moment of stock-stillness. He knew the answer to the question, but asked it anyway as he took Booth's shirt cuff between his thumb and forefinginger.
Seeley didn't know that he was holding his breath until the door opened and Jack looked at him. He didn't know he had a death grip on the wooden frame until he followed the reach of Jack's arm up to his wrist.
"No."
The air he took in seemed thin and devoid of oxygen.
"No. I'm not."
Booth leaned forward, swayed forward. His mouth just an inch from the skin of Jack's face. Here the atmosphere was thick and hot and it made Seeley want more. More than he should.
Blood rushed past Seeley's eardrums. It pounded in his brain and the only thing that kept him from seeing what he didn't want to see, what he knew he would if he looked anywhere but the blue of Jack's eyes. Close to Jack he couldn't smell the burning oil wells. Close to Jack he couldn't smell copper and salt and death. He couldn't hear the screams, feel the recoil of the rifle in his shoulder. See the body fall.
"I asked if you'd ever killed anyone, Hodgins ... have you ever kissed ... would you ... kiss me?"
Everything stratified and coded. A place for everything and everything in its place.
Jack liked that. Understood it. It was the one part of military life that he actually agreed with and found soothing. Order out of chaos. The illusion of control. That illusion of control saved him being caught and forced into the crisp template of his family's vision for him.
God, he needed that illusion now.
A week spinning out of control with little rest, less nourishment, and spent wired on the razor's edge of fury and sorrow and remorse had left little to grasp.
He finished washing up, dried his hands on the neatly folded towel and swung the door open.
Booth filled the doorway, chest open, head tipped back, exposing his long, pale throat and the line of beard shadow that stretched across his jaw and down his neck.
He could have been waiting for nails to be drilled through his hands and feet.
The sight startled Jack into a moment of stock-stillness. He knew the answer to the question, but asked it anyway as he took Booth's shirt cuff between his thumb and forefinginger.
"Dude...are you allright?"
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"No."
The air he took in seemed thin and devoid of oxygen.
"No. I'm not."
Booth leaned forward, swayed forward. His mouth just an inch from the skin of Jack's face. Here the atmosphere was thick and hot and it made Seeley want more. More than he should.
Blood rushed past Seeley's eardrums. It pounded in his brain and the only thing that kept him from seeing what he didn't want to see, what he knew he would if he looked anywhere but the blue of Jack's eyes. Close to Jack he couldn't smell the burning oil wells. Close to Jack he couldn't smell copper and salt and death. He couldn't hear the screams, feel the recoil of the rifle in his shoulder. See the body fall.
"I asked if you'd ever killed anyone, Hodgins ... have you ever kissed ... would you ... kiss me?"
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