surfacage | trick or treat

Entry tags:

!ic,
!private

trick or treat

So of course, here's Jack, meandering down the corridors with a bowl of sweet candies in arm; every now and then he'd reach in blindly for one and eat it.

"Mister Ja~ack," he sings, apparently looking for that one Contractor counterpart of his - but he's just passing the music rooms here and then, perhaps looking to catch a certain someone.

[for

casse_sablier.]

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"Glen, lie back - "

Jack held back, though, waiting until he had finished before pushing him down by his shoulders to the pillows.

"Silly, it's okay. Do you think you can keep down anything?"

"You gave me the antidote, Jack. I'm feeling better already," that was a lie, he just wanted Jill out of his hair. The scene was too familiar. He had been taken care of by Jack when he had gotten sick, and the same when Jack had gotten sick.

"You should sleep, even for a little bit," he chastised, worry creasing his face. He knew Glen would get better, but he didn't think he'd feel this guilty over it.

"I'll sleep," he complied to that, at least. His waistcoat off, he laid back in the bed, wondering for a moment.

"It is your responsibility, Jack, that I recover fully."

For reasons he was unsure of, he complied to Jack's little plan. He would allow the wicked alternate to take care of him. It would settle his restlessness, hopefully.

Jack bent his head, kneeling beside the bed and lacing his hands on the bedspread.

"I guess it kind of worked, didn't it?" He said, faintly bitter as he raised his head to smile. "I'll do what I can."

Glen did not thank him. This was jack's mess after all.

He closed his eyes, his brow furrowed from the fever. He wanted to make some other crack at him, but could not think straight to do so, and was asleep in minutes.

He'd wake up cranky two hours later.

Jack didn't expect any, either - far from it. He'd expected to be hit, or be yelled at, at the very least.

He's still at Glen's side when he wakes, and there's a washcloth on his forehead, to ease the fever.

"You're still here?" Glen isn't sure what to think of it, but he's leaning towards jack's feelings being still, far too obvious. He sits up, the fever having mostly subsided, he just looks tired, and rubs at his eyes like a child, the wash cloth falling absently in his lap.

"I clean up my own messes," he murmurs, gingerly taking the washcloth from Glen and handing him a glass of water. "Here."

Glen accepts it, smiling a little in the glass, though it disappears when he brings it down.

"The time?" they are in an inner room, and thus it has no windows.

Jack drew out his pocket-watch. It still played Lacie when he clicked it open.

"Half-past eight in the evening."

"Do not make such a face," Glen looked back blankly at Jack.

Jack ducked his head, turning away as his cheeks colour in embarrassment.

"I'm sorry. Should I go fetch you anything?"

Glen took the water only, "This is fine." If he ate this late, he was sure he would not sleep again for hours.

"I - "

Jack waited for Glen to finish his glass of water, placing it back on the bedside table - before kneeling next to the bed again, pillowing his head on folded arms on the sheets.

"You're still cross with me, aren't you?"

Glen looked away, how could he be cross with a face like that leaning at his bedside?

"I am merely tired. I will be fine."

"Go back to sleep?"

Jack looked down at the sheets, thinking that he's lying. "I'll - I'll stay the night, if you'd be needing something."

"-And if that something is quiet?" glen knew he was picking on him, but he needed someone to pick on.

Jack looked up, eyes wide, and his mouth worked wordlessly for a moment before he nodded, biting his lip.

'Sorry', he mouthed, covering his mouth with his hands.

Oh, that was no fun. Jack wasn't playing along, perhaps too frightened to notice the smirk on Glen's face.

For a moment Glen wished to use the blonde, to take as he wished from him with no strings attached. He knew better, however, because he knew he loved Jack, that he could love this Jack, given the right time and circumstance. Still, he said nothing, made no move to tug on his hair or kiss his lips. It would serve no purpose in the end but to hurt both the other and himself.

Too bad Glen didn't know just how terrified this Jack was of him - or any Glen, for that matter, how deep his scars and fears ran.

Jack settled, back down on the edge of the bed, and the silence stretched awkwardly as he waited for Glen to fall asleep, or to give him another order. Either or.

"Tell me, Jack. Did your wickedness spawn only from your jealousies, or were you born with such shadows?" Yes, he was certainly picking on him, and let it become obvious.

Well, that was certainly a way to break the silence. Jack narrowed his eyes at Glen, remembering how acidic his words could get.

"Did yours?" He mumbled under his breath, before looking away. "What does it matter to you?"

"You claim to love me yet you can not answer that?" He raised an eyebrow, "And I am merely curious how such a transformation could take place. If there is an ounce of wickedness in Jack's heart, it is only because I put it there."

Jack's eyes shot wide at Glen's answer - seven years of living being at his beck and call - and he laced his hands again, tightly.

"I grew up differently, that's all."

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Just don't pull an Annie Wilkes, please?

.........do not want! D:

Neither does Glen! D:

that's really creepy huhu

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