Disgusting
⦻
Jeff/EJ
1.8k words
pining, angst, Jeff being a dumbass mainly.
A/N: I don't really understand tumblr, so bear with me. Not posted fanfic before. This is something I originally wrote with the intention of there being a second part, but never got around to that and I kind of like it as it is, so... yeah.
Waking up early has never been something Jeff’s good at. Probably something to do with not maturing much past about thirteen years old. (Though if you told him that he’d most likely stab you in the eye.) But to be fair, being a serial killer doesn’t actually entail many early mornings, as it happens. So Jeff usually sleeps until the afternoon without issue.
Not this morning, however. No, this morning Jeff has to leave with some of the others for a fucking long and fucking boring ass assignment out in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. Probably because god hates him. Or, more likely, because Tim hates him.
Or, more more likely, because it’s literally his job.
But right now, Jeff is pissed off about having to wake up early. So, it’s unfair and only happening because life has it out for him and always has.
As he clumsily reaches to silence his phone alarm on the bedside table, Jeff mentally goes over all the grotesquely violent things he wants to do to Tim, not only for sending him on this job, but for insisting that they leave at six o-fucking-clock in the god damn morning.
Groggy and barely conscious, the psycho hauls himself out of bed and goes about pulling on whatever clothing happens to be closest to him on the ground. He’s just shoving the too-long ends of his poorly tied shoelaces into the sides of his trainers, when he stops, blinking tiredly at his bed for a moment.
Oh. Jack hasn’t left yet.
Jeff stares at the demon in his bed for a moment, who is facing the other way and presumably pretending to still be asleep. Usually, Jack sneaks out before Jeff’s awake. That’s been part of the whole routine ever since the first night they got drunk and ended up in bed together.
After consideration, Jeff decides to play along and sneak out of his own room with a serial killer’s stealth, as if he hadn't just made all the noise in the world with his alarm and angry muttering.
But then, right as his hand is on the door handle,
“... Jeff?” Jack’s voice is quiet, but in no way sounds like he's just woken up.
Jeff freezes like a deer in headlights. There’s a long silence before he responds. “Yeah?” He attempts to sound normal; casual, like Jack trying to speak to him right now isn't sending jolts of what is definitely not fear down his spine. But even if his voice hadn’t cracked just then, he’s all too aware that Jack can hear his heartbeat.
Jack sits up in the bed, almost reaching for his mask on the bedside table beside him before stopping himself, though still opting to hang his head slightly instead of properly facing Jeff. “It’s… four months, right?”
Jeff, still not having turned back from the door, doesn’t respond for a while. It takes him a few brain-scattered moments to realise what Jack’s even talking about.
“Uh- Um, yeah, somethin’ like that I think?” The killer confirms, slowly turning back to face Jack. The question about work briefly relieves some of the uncomfortableness. “Why..?”
There’s a pause. Jack turns his head slightly, instinctively attempting to hide his face. “... I’ll miss you.”
The words hang in the air for a good long while. Jeff blinks slowly, staring at Jack as best he can through the dark. Then he laughs. It’s kind of a forced laugh, but then, that’s kind of on Jack for making such a lame joke, isn’t it.
“You’ve got a hand, don’t ya?” Jeff chuckles, crudely miming a jerk off motion with one hand before turning back to the door and going to leave.
“Jeff.” Jack sighs deeply, cutting through Jeff’s immature giggling with a seriousness that the serial killer really doesn’t like the sound of. “Not what I meant.”
Jeff, once again turning back to face Jack, opens his mouth to speak, before the cannibal suddenly continues.
“I mean.. I’m going to miss your company. I like being around you. I really like being around you, Jeff.” Jack takes a deep breath, almost reconsidering before resolving to just say it. “Do you think, when you get back… we could spend some more time together..? More than drinking and fucking, I mean…”
Silence.
Jeff just stares for what feels like an eternity. He flashes through emotions. Confusion, mostly. But then just anger. He finally goes to say something, only to stop himself. No, he shouldn’t yell. He takes a breath, and does his best to channel everything into spite.
“Seriously?” The killer jeers, voice cold and dripping with venom. “Fuck you.”
And with that, he’s gone. The door slams shut so loudly behind him that it makes Jack jump.
“Yeah…” The demon mumbles to himself, now alone in the dark of Jeff’s bedroom. “I figured as much…”
~
The assignment ends up taking closer to six months. The members of a small cult who had been causing issues for the operator turned out not to be quite as stupid as originally assumed and scattered damn near across the whole country. Only prolonged the inevitable though, since Jeff, Toby, and Tim tracked them all down eventually. They won’t be causing issues anymore.
“Are we almost home?”
Tim sighs in frustration as he throws a large camping backpack onto the ground. “Yes. As I’ve already said, If we stop here for the night, It should only take us another day’s walk tomorrow.”
Toby, just as excited by this answer as he was the last three times he asked, bounces on the spot energetically as he watches Tim go about unpacking camping supplies. “I can’t w- wait to sleep in a real bed!”
“I just want a fucking shower.” Tim grumbles, unable to recall exactly how long it’s been since they managed to stop somewhere with running water. It was at least a week ago. He then gives Toby a stern look, who gets the message and starts helping him set up the tent.
Jeff, ignoring his colleagues, walks past and off into the woods. Tim shoots him a somewhat annoyed glance, though is too exhausted to yell at the petulant teenaged serial killer about being a team player. He’s been doing that for six months. So, he lets Jeff wander off. It’s honestly just easier that way.
It’s definitely going to be a long time before Tim takes Jeff and Toby on another long trip. He’s felt like a babysitter the whole time.
Jeff walks off into the trees far enough to hear himself think over Toby’s voice, laughing slightly to himself at the knowledge that Tim probably wishes he could do the same. Toby knows better than to pester Jeff, as most people do, so Tim’s taken the brunt of that over the course of this trip. Serves him right for dragging Jeff on such a miserable job.
Jeff doesn’t mind sleeping rough. And he’s sure slept rougher than the tents and cars they’ve been staying in the past few months. He was a homeless fugitive before the operator found him, after all. Toby and Tim are a bit privileged in his opinion.
Still, Jeff does allow himself to look forwards to no longer being stuck in close proximity to his coworkers. He’s not a social creature, and if this trip were to drag out any longer, he’s sure he’d end up disemboweling Toby.
Once far enough into the forest to feel a bit of privacy, Jeff sighs and slumps down to sit with his back against a tree. He leans his head back against the tree, eyes cast upwards at the night sky, taking a moment to enjoy the quiet and focus on the sound of wind rustling through leaves.
And the moment of quiet is nice. But, sometimes being able to hear yourself think isn’t a good thing. In the back of Jeff’s mind, where he likes to shove things he doesn’t want to think about, words echo just loud enough to bleed into conscious thought. The same words he’s been desperately trying to forget about this whole trip.
“I’ll miss you.”
Jeff growls to himself, as if he can intimidate his own brain into shutting up. And when that doesn’t work, he’s pulling at his hair and muttering to himself. “Shut up, shut up, shut up!”
The closer back to the house they get, the harder it is for Jeff to stop thinking about the morning he left. Had Jack timed it this way on purpose? Some kind of power move? Well, Jeff sure can’t think of any other reason for him to have said that.
No, it was a clear and intentional attempt to mock him. Fucking bastard.
Memories of the nights he’s spent with Jack surface in Jeff’s mind. Flashes of alcohol fueled, animalistic lust. Empty eye sockets and bared teeth, all snarls and grunts and moans. Claws digging into his skin possessively. Being thrown around, bitten, used in the way that makes the rest of Jeff’s miserable life melt away for a little while.
That’s what he and Jack do. They use each other to forget. That’s all it is. Distraction. It’s physical. Sexual.
Then more memories. This time of being sat with Jack, drinking cheap vodka and chainsmoking cigarettes. Jack pouring Jeff drinks instead of letting him sip from the bottle, always insisting on being so weirdly dignified all the time. The way Jeff tries so hard to come up with witty remarks, only for Jack to counter them so effortlessly, despite being drunk. That stupid fucking smirk on the demon’s face whenever Jeff doesn’t have a comeback.
God, that stupid, stupid face. Jeff hates it. He hates how those sharp teeth poke out slightly when Jack laughs. And how those empty black sockets still manage to be so expressive. How he blushes such a pretty shade of blue in response to the killer’s more obscene jokes. And Jeff hates, hates, hates how whenever Jack takes off that mask, his heart skips a beat. He wants to flay all of the skin from that infuriatingly perfect face, so it stops being so captivating. So it stops making his chest feel hot.
But what Jeff hates most of all, as usual, is himself. For being unable to stop thinking about it. About him. He despises himself for the painful, aching, burning pull he feels somewhere inside him any time he’s left with his own thoughts for a moment and they all return to that fucking man.
The sheer shame of the feeling is enough to make Jeff sick to his stomach. But Jack being able to tell, and then using it to mock him like that? It makes the killer want to shove his knife into his own chest and tear out whatever’s twisting around in there. Tear it out and throw it on the ground to die forgotten in the filth where it belongs. Where it can’t humiliate him.
Disgusting.
His mind screams at him above all else.
You’re fucking disgusting.
