[Torchwod: Miracle Day] "Badge of Honor" -- (PG-13)
Author's Note: Written for < lj user="tamingthemuse">'s "Prompt # 390 - Keloid". Set during the flashbacks of "Immortal Sins" and featuring Jack/Angelo.
Scars. Keloids. Whatever people called them these days. Jack could not help but envy those who had them. They signified someone had been injured, had suffered, had endured. And as for himself: nothing. All he had to show for all that he had endured, the deaths he had passed through and returned from: he went on living. Everyone around him had an expiration date at some point or another. Technically, he had them still, his just got renewed the moment the time came up, leaving him unmarked. Maybe not such a bad thing considering the ways he had died, but still, something to show for the times he had gone down swinging seemed a fair compromise, as long as the marks let him keep his looks.
The thought lingered in his mind as he lay beside Angelo while the smaller man slept -- another common thing he could no longer experience but which most people took for granted -- as one of Angelo's hands lay lightly curled in Jack's open palm, the back turned upward, fingers lightly bent. Even in the darkness, he could read the raised scars on the young man's knuckles, the marks from the times he had had to defend himself against the unkind, the bigoted, the narrow minded.
He reached out in the shadows, with the tip of his thumb -- just a miniscule distance, and yet he felt it so far apart -- and caressed Angelo's scars, tracing them with care, hoping not to awaken his young lover.
He felt Angelo shift, heard the mattress rustle under them and heard the springs of the bed frame creak and squeak. He heard his lover draw in a breath. "Hm. Jack?" he asked.
"Who else could it be? Any guy tried to slip in here, I'd throw him out the door," he teased.
"Must you make those jokes?" Angelo grumbled, but even in the dark, Jack could hear the smile quirking the corners of Angelo's mouth.
"Wouldn't have me any other way, would you?" Jack said, leaning over and kissing the side of Angelo's head.
"No, I wouldn't," Angelo admitted, and he felt his lover lean into the kiss before feeling in the dark for Jack's hand. Jack gently put his hand into Angelo's, letting the young man raise it to his lips. "Can't sleep, Jack?"
"Not really: night's warm. Used to live in a desert: it got cold at night," Jack admitted. "Families in our colony, used to sleep in big puppy piles in our dwellings, to keep warm, share the body heat."
"That's hard to believe: aren't deserts hot?" Angelo asked.
"During the day, they are," Jack replied. "Night time, though, the heat passes away. Not much vegetation to hold the warmth. Once we've started making money hand over fist, I'll take you out to the desert in Nevada: not much unlike where I came from. Except there's no ocean nearby."
"We'll find the ocean together someday," Angelo said, full of hope, already making plans. "So what were you doing that woke me up?"
"Just stroking your hand, admiring the scars on your fingers," Jack replied.
Angelo started to withdraw his hand, but Jack closed his fingers on it gently. "They're nothing to admire. I got them because people are cruel."
"But you stood up for yourself, showed them what you're really made of," Jack said. "Badge of honor, as far as I'm concerned."
"A badge I won the hard way," Angelo replied, his tone bitter as wormwood.
"Makes it all the more worthwhile," Jack said, pressing Angelo's hand, then leaning in to kiss the scars tenderly, reverently.
"If you can see them that way... perhaps they are," Angelo said, his tone softening.
"No, it's not because I say they are, it's because they truly are, in and of themselves," Jack said. "And don't let anyone tell you otherwise. They tell you that, they're just trying to cut you down to raise themselves up."
"You sound like you've had some experience with that," Angelo said.
"More than I care to, but I wish I had the badge you earned," Jack admitted.
"You wouldn't want them," Angelo said.
"Maybe I just want to match you," Jack said, stroking the scars gently.
Scars. Keloids. Whatever people called them these days. Jack could not help but envy those who had them. They signified someone had been injured, had suffered, had endured. And as for himself: nothing. All he had to show for all that he had endured, the deaths he had passed through and returned from: he went on living. Everyone around him had an expiration date at some point or another. Technically, he had them still, his just got renewed the moment the time came up, leaving him unmarked. Maybe not such a bad thing considering the ways he had died, but still, something to show for the times he had gone down swinging seemed a fair compromise, as long as the marks let him keep his looks.
The thought lingered in his mind as he lay beside Angelo while the smaller man slept -- another common thing he could no longer experience but which most people took for granted -- as one of Angelo's hands lay lightly curled in Jack's open palm, the back turned upward, fingers lightly bent. Even in the darkness, he could read the raised scars on the young man's knuckles, the marks from the times he had had to defend himself against the unkind, the bigoted, the narrow minded.
He reached out in the shadows, with the tip of his thumb -- just a miniscule distance, and yet he felt it so far apart -- and caressed Angelo's scars, tracing them with care, hoping not to awaken his young lover.
He felt Angelo shift, heard the mattress rustle under them and heard the springs of the bed frame creak and squeak. He heard his lover draw in a breath. "Hm. Jack?" he asked.
"Who else could it be? Any guy tried to slip in here, I'd throw him out the door," he teased.
"Must you make those jokes?" Angelo grumbled, but even in the dark, Jack could hear the smile quirking the corners of Angelo's mouth.
"Wouldn't have me any other way, would you?" Jack said, leaning over and kissing the side of Angelo's head.
"No, I wouldn't," Angelo admitted, and he felt his lover lean into the kiss before feeling in the dark for Jack's hand. Jack gently put his hand into Angelo's, letting the young man raise it to his lips. "Can't sleep, Jack?"
"Not really: night's warm. Used to live in a desert: it got cold at night," Jack admitted. "Families in our colony, used to sleep in big puppy piles in our dwellings, to keep warm, share the body heat."
"That's hard to believe: aren't deserts hot?" Angelo asked.
"During the day, they are," Jack replied. "Night time, though, the heat passes away. Not much vegetation to hold the warmth. Once we've started making money hand over fist, I'll take you out to the desert in Nevada: not much unlike where I came from. Except there's no ocean nearby."
"We'll find the ocean together someday," Angelo said, full of hope, already making plans. "So what were you doing that woke me up?"
"Just stroking your hand, admiring the scars on your fingers," Jack replied.
Angelo started to withdraw his hand, but Jack closed his fingers on it gently. "They're nothing to admire. I got them because people are cruel."
"But you stood up for yourself, showed them what you're really made of," Jack said. "Badge of honor, as far as I'm concerned."
"A badge I won the hard way," Angelo replied, his tone bitter as wormwood.
"Makes it all the more worthwhile," Jack said, pressing Angelo's hand, then leaning in to kiss the scars tenderly, reverently.
"If you can see them that way... perhaps they are," Angelo said, his tone softening.
"No, it's not because I say they are, it's because they truly are, in and of themselves," Jack said. "And don't let anyone tell you otherwise. They tell you that, they're just trying to cut you down to raise themselves up."
"You sound like you've had some experience with that," Angelo said.
"More than I care to, but I wish I had the badge you earned," Jack admitted.
"You wouldn't want them," Angelo said.
"Maybe I just want to match you," Jack said, stroking the scars gently.