#jackcurt

Jack takes the pass and leaves without saluting, hoping against hope it'll make Harding snap at him just so he has an excuse to yell again, but he hears Harding chuckle behind him, and that burns him up all over again.

He steps out of Ops and nearly trips over Curt, whose right by the door. "Fuck me, Biddick. What are you doing?"

"Saw Bucky skip out of the mess, so I figured he got some good news. Thought I'd see who got stuck in his spot."

"Never fucking him," Jack mutters, walking forward and meaning to leave Curt behind, but Curt keeps pace with him, same as he ever has. He says its his New York upbringing, that Jack and Bucky and Buck walk weirdly slow for as much leg as they have. The first time he'd said it, Bucky had taken the bait Jack had so clearly seen in Curt's eyes and challenged him to a foot race. Buck had been chosen to tell them when to start. Jack had been sent to the finish line as an impartial decider over who crossed first. Not that he'd been needed. Curt took the win without question, a good four strides ahead of Bucky by the time he'd run by Jack, not slowing down until he'd actually made it.

"Sorry about this, Jack," Curt says.

Jack turns to ask him what he's done to help this along and stops short. Curt's got circles under his eyes and a slump in his shoulders. He's meeting Jack's eyes because he always meets eyes, but he looks exhausted, and now that he's paying attention, Jack smells whiskey and beer.

"How long you been up?" he asks.

"Since call yesterday," Curt says.

"Were you drinking all night?"

"Not me."

Jack snorts. "But you stayed up with him."

"Someone had to," Curt says.

"Yeah," Jack replies, anger dimming a little. Because Bucky had obviously been shredded last night in the O-Club, trying to keep things bright and fun for everyone who'd come back from their first sortie. He's done it before when there's been bad news; made himself the life of the party to make sure the party distracts as intended. He reaches out and grabs Curt's shoulder, gives him a little shake. "How's Dickie?"

"Same as yesterday but cranky now. He rolled over onto his hands in his sleep."

"Shit," Jack says.

Curt nods. "You got anywhere to be?"

"I've got 48 hours to get over wanting to strangle Bucky with my bare hands," he says.

Curt grins, the devil in his eyes. "I've got until tomorrow morning. Wanna go into village and make a reputation for ourselves?"

Jack almost says no. It's not a good idea. He should be clear-headed about this. Work out how he's going to do a good job at a job he doesn't want at all. Tell Curt to go get some sleep and rest up properly. But then Curt kicks his ankle lightly and waggles his eyebrows. "Fuck it," Jack says. "Let me pack a bag."

"Meet you at the edge of base," Curt says and turns and jogs away at Jack's nod.

*

Jack sits up in bed and groans at the way it makes his headache spike. He rubs his palms hard against his eyes and feels the bracelet slip again. They'd started at the pub, drinking beer and eating chips, then Jack had gone down the street and rented a room while Curt went scrounging. He'd come back with two bottles of whiskey, and the serious work had begun.

Sometime in the mid-evening, after dark but no sounds of rowdy men outside just yet, Jack had flopped back onto the bed and somehow, Curt had ended up in his lap, grinning and grinding his hips as he opened Jack's shirt and then pulled off his own.

It's hazy, but it's there. Their chests pressed together. Curt kissing him like they had nothing but time, but his hand hot and tight and urgent on Jack's dick. Jack remembers rolling them onto their sides, getting his own hands on Curt, lifting his leg up to his hips so they could rub together. Grabbing Curt's ass and laughing into his mouth when Curt had squirmed closer. Curt had laughed in return, then slid down Jack's body and sucked him off.

There's a blank spot. But then Jack remembers very early in the morning, waking up because Curt was pulling him close, was pressing his cock between Jack's buttocks and fucking him there while laying kisses on the back of Jack's neck.

Jack had jerked himself off and held the hand Curt had at his waist.

And now he's awake, and Curt's not here, but his ID bracelet is on Jack's wrist. And Jack doesn't remember how he got it. Probably some drunken joke of Curt's. He was probably in a hurry to get out of the room and back to base before his pass was up, and his memory was probably as mis-matched as Jack's, so he hadn't grabbed it.

Jack shakes his head at himself. He's hungover and covered in spunk, and his mouth tastes like bile. He needs black coffee and a shower and something to eat. He'll find Curt when he's back at base, thank him for keeping him company, and get the bracelet back to him discreetly. Make sure he's doing okay today, that he actually got some amount of sleep.

Jack leaves the bracelet on the table with his watch when he steps out to use the shower and toilet at the end of the hall. He stays under a little longer than strictly necessary because the warm water is doing wonders for his head. He brushes his teeth, then takes a few gulps of water from the faucet before switching it to warm water so he can shave.

By the time he steps out of the bathroom, he's presentable again, uniform and hair neat. Back straight. Headache still there, but more a dull throb. He gathers his things and cracks open the window to let some fresh air in so it maybe won't smell quite so obvious by the time someone comes to strip the bed. He tucks Curt's bracelet into his chest pocket so it has no chance of falling out.

He goes to the pub and orders coffee and toast. The bartender gives him a shrewd look and brings the toast plain. Jack eats it and drinks his coffee, then orders a plate of eggs and more coffee once he's sure the toast is staying down.

There's not much to do in the village, but he takes a meandering walk up and down the streets just to stretch his legs and burn a little more time on his leave. He could go into London, he thinks, but what he really wants is to be back on base. He's sure word's gotten around that he's Air Exec now, and he wants to talk to his boys, see if they have someone they want to fly with. The idea twists his stomach, but it's the right thing to do. Blakely and Douglass deserve a say in who's flying the plane if it isn't going to be Jack.

He walks back to base and stows his bag, then goes looking for his boys. Ev and James are playing one-on-one basketball, but they stop the second they see Jack, rushing over and stopping short before they collide with him.

"It's a joke, right?" Ev says in greeting. "No way are they pulling you from a fort."

"I'm pulled," Jack replies, and the way Ev deflates makes him want to hug him. "Anyone you want in my seat?"

"Yeah, you," Ev says. James nods.

"I yelled at Harding yesterday, and he still didn't demote me. I don't think telling him you said no is going to work."

"Wait, really?" James asks. "Do you mean you actually yelled?"

"For several minutes," Jack admits, and the brief delight on their faces cheers him up. "Unfortunately, I think I like the man."

"He gave you leave to sweeten the deal," James says. "That's what Curt said."

Jack wonders how much else Curt said. "He did. I'm still on it."

"I'd say lucky you, but I don't mean it," Ev says. "Shit, Jack, this stinks."

"We know you can do it," James adds, and this time it's Ev's turn to nod. "But you're our pilot. We'd rather you fly with us than watch us fly out."

Jack's stomach twists again. "You know I feel the same," he says. "Harding says he'll try to get me up, but I don't know what that means."

"We'll tell the others," James says. "Try to enjoy your downtime, okay? You wanna play cards or something later, you know where to find us."

"I will," Jack promises. He waits for them to start up their game again, then takes himself on a walk over to Curt's barracks. He enters, and it's mostly empty, save two men napping. Curt's not there.

Jack checks the gym next. Then the library. Curt's at a table with a book open to wind patterns of the Northern Atlantic. There's one other man across the room reading a newspaper. Jack sits across from Curt, and Curt glances up. "What are you doing back?" he whispers, then looks back at the book, laying his finger down on the page and then writing something in his notebook.

"Not much to do in the village," Jack replies. He reaches into his chest pocket and takes out the bracelet. Curt doesn't notice, still writing. Jack waits for him to finish and look at him again. "Here," he says, putting the bracelet on the book.

Curt picks it up and slips it on. "Thanks."

"Why was I wearing it?" Jack asks.

"Couldn't find anything to write a note on to tell you I had to get back to base, but I figured you'd at see it and know I wasn't just leaving you high and dry."

Jack blinks. Curt writes down something else, then notates it. "What?" he asks.

Curt looks at him. "How much do you remember from last night?"

"The beginning's still…a bit hazy," Jack offers. "But I recall most of it."

"Same," Curt agrees. "Just wanted to try and make it clear that I know what we got up to, and I'm not worried about it."

"Worried about it?"

Curt doesn't speak for a couple of minutes. He's reviewing his notes against the book. Jack waits. This is just what it's like to talk to Curt when he's researching something. Jack remembers the first time it happened. When Curt had sat across from him at a base library with a book about as big as the one he's using now and started to copy notes. Jack had thought they'd work in silence, but then Curt had asked them if he minded a little talk, and Jack had said no, he didn't, and they'd talked just like this. Bits and pieces as they worked on separate projects. Jack can't even remember what he was looking up, but he remembers they talked about training flights and a little about home.

"Not worried about it," Curt says, putting down his pencil and lifting his hand from the book and giving Jack his full attention. "One way or another, I'm not worried. You wanna have fun again, let me know. You don't wanna have fun again, I'm not expecting anything."

"Ah," Jack says. It makes sense. Curt's not loose with his affections, but he's open in a way Jack isn't and Bucky tries to be. He'd had a good time, Jack realizes. That's what he's saying. That's what the bracelet was about. "Maybe," he says. "I don't know. I'm not—" He rolls his eyes when Curt snickers. "Shut up."

"I've known you for two years, Jack. I've seen you go on three dates. I figured you're not."