jack_f_twist | AU: aftermath

Jack stares at him for a moment, and then rubs a hand over his face, pushing his hat back, muttering.

"Christ Almighty."

A deep breath.

"Well, at least you didn't hit anyone, this time."

"Could've just about hit you."

He's still not meeting Jack's eyes, his feet infinitely more interesting.

"Oh yeah? For sayin' hello to a guy I met before? I happen to like him. Nice fella. They're both nice fellas."

He snorts.

"You gonna want a start a fight ever time I talk to a buddy? Cause, hell, Ennis, maybe you ought a just stop payin' attention, then. Just cause you don't talk to people ain't no reason why I shouldn't."

"Not people like that."

And it's the that that's dripping with disgust.

"People like that."

There's a dangerous pause between each of the words, and Jack takes a few slow steps towards him.

"And you n me. We ain't nothin like that, are we?" His jaw tightens, remembering the ease with which the two men had reached out to each other.

"Hell, maybe you're right. They sure seemed different."

Ennis takes a few steps himself, closing the distance. He doesn't want to get closer, but there's something, electricity, anger, something drawing him up into Jack's face.

"It's your damn fault if we're anything, Jack Twist. It's your fault I'm like this."

"Blame me if you want," Jack says, evenly. "I ain't the one startin' fights and I ain't the one makin' you hate yourself. But hell, go on! Sure it's my fault! Ain't nothin' I ever touched ain't come to some bad end, has it? You ought a have a chat with my old man, you sure as hell'd have plenty a say to each other."

His voice, rising, cuts off abruptly, and he clenches his hands into fists at his side, falling silent only to shake his head.

"Shit."

"It ain't me I'm hating."

Though he won't say it, though he's maybe even not sure he knows it, the comment about Jack's dad hits him like a blow to the gut, making him sick.

"Fine," Jack says, angry and cold and all wired up like he's plugged straight into an electrical outlet.

"Fine. Hate me, then."

He turns away, swearing viciously under his breath, takes off his hat in a violent sweep to beat it against a nearby tree.

Ennis reaches out, quick as can be, and grabs Jack's arm.

"Get off," he snarls, but Ennis has caught him off balance and he's pulled back, fighting.

He doesn't let go, he pulls more, pulls Jack closer, steps closer, pinning Jack between himself and the tree.

Jack struggles, and he's hefty, but there ain't never been a time when Ennis couldn't win a wrestling match between them and he finds himself with his back up against the rough bark, the breath knocked out of him, just about, glaring at the man in front of him.

"What the hell, Ennis?"

He'd be hard pressed to explain it himself, even if he was good with words, which he ain't never been. So Ennis pulls Jack away from the tree, pushing him back just once more before kissing him hard, angry.

There's a muffled sound that could be a curse and could be a name and could just be Jack's breath getting punched out of him again, and then his hands are hard against Ennis' face and he kisses back, roughly, teeth scraping and impossible to take a breath. One hand fists in Ennis' shirt, as though Jack doesn't know whether to pull him closer or shove him away.

There's blood and scrapes, and tomorrow things will be swollen and bruised. But that doesn't stop Ennis, pouring all the anger and loathing and jealousy into his contact with Jack, scrabbling and grabbing and taking.

Jack grabs him by the front of his shirt, pushes him away and pulls him back in, hard and close, breath hot against his neck, forehead to forehead. One hand comes up to Ennis' face, grips at the back of his neck.

Ennis pushes against Jack's hand, not trying to free himself but trying to exert his authority. He pulls his face back, resting his forehead against Jack's as his hands kneed Jack's shoulders and his breath comes in shallow pants.

Jack's breath comes ragged and his eyes are heavy-lidded.

"Hell," he says, low and needy, "you're a goddam sonuvvabitch, you know that?" But his mouth brushes over Ennis' while he speaks and the words aren't even rightly out of his mouth before he's kissing him again, pulling at him and pushing himself into him at the same time.

Ennis nods against Jack's mouth, wouldn't speak even if he could, even if they weren't pressed body to body, mouth to mouth. Doesn't ever matter how long it's been or what they were doing before or anything, really, that hum of electricity is there, hyping Ennis up.

Sometimes Jack wishes it weren't always like a fight, with Ennis, that it wasn't always about control and closer and want and now, but then Ennis pushes him into a tree and Jack doesn't care any more, doesn't even think any more, and pushes back. Their hats are long gone, and he pushes his hand into Ennis' hair, runs his other hand around Ennis' waist and up his back.

Ennis closes his eyes at the feel of Jack's hand on his back, and pulls back just a bit.

"Shit."

It's said under his breath and with some sort of emotion. He can't say he's sorry; he's not even sure he is. But the hand he brings up to Jack's face is soft.

Jack leans into his touch, and his eyes slide shut.

"Yeah," he agrees, tiredly, unwilling to fight any longer, and runs his thumb over the muscles of Ennis' back.

His other hand works its way down, down Jack's shoulder, down Jack's arm, until he finds Jack's hand and squeezes it. And maybe it doesn't mean anything out here, in the dark, with nobody around, but it's better than nothing.

Jack's fingers, rough and callused and strong, squeeze firmly back. And Jack knows he has to take what he can get, and he has to take what Ennis can give, and that's enough.

It has to be.

"Hey," he says, softly. He relaxes, a bit, though the tension remains in his shoulders.

Ennis holds on to Jack's hand, holds on for all he's worth as he leans on Jack, into Jack, laying his head on Jack's shoulder.

"Hey," he says, again, soft, and wraps his arm closer around Ennis, drawing him in, warm and wanting and welcoming the heavy weight of him. He turns his head to press a kiss to Ennis' hair, his thumb moving gently over the back of Ennis' hand.

The kiss, the touch, it wraps him in warmth and the tension starts to fall out of his body, and he'd give anything - anything - to right at this moment be back inside back in his - their - bed, curled up.

It's possible that similar thoughts are going through Jack's mind, as well, and he dips his head to rest his cheek briefly against the side of Ennis' neck, shakes him gently.

"C'mon, cowboy," he says, low. "I ain't standin' out here all night."

Ennis nods, and brushes his lips against the side of Jack's mouth before he pulls back and squeezes Jack's hand one last time before dropping it and heading back towards the bar.

AU: aftermath

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