#jive writes stuff

 Scenes like this — with Jack trussed up in ropes of red and black, all bound and made open for Gabriel, ready to take whatever discipline would be issued by his firm yet caring hands — come to Jack easily, especially when it's Gabriel's care that he's under.

 He listens. He obeys. He trusts.

 It's bliss.

 The fingers around Jack's neck loosen, and almost immediately, the taut wire of desperation and tension within his body snaps loose. Raspy cries echo from Jack's throat as he spills himself onto his own stomach, body clenching and twitching with every pulse of cum that leaves his cock. Jack plummets over the edge of orgasm, his fall so intense his vision and consciousness nearly white out completely.

 It takes a while for him to come back to himself, and even then, it's not completely. His body feels heavy and numb from orgasm, and yet, he can still feel Gabriel inside him, still waiting so patiently to achieve his own end. And even so, despite this, Jack can hear the rumble of Gabriel's voice above him; “So good. You did so good for me, Jackie,” before he feels the gentle press of firm lips against his forehead.

 “Just a little more,” Gabriel urges, “Can you do that for me, gorgeous? Give me a color.”

 Jack answers with a firm, but raspy, “Green,” repeating it as many times as he needs to for Gabriel to believe him. He loses count of how many, but it doesn't take long for Gabriel to start moving inside of him again, each rock of his hips firm yet gentle and deliberate. It's clear Gabriel is taking care not to overstimulate or hurt him any further, and Jack can only hope he'll be able to express how much he appreciates that once he's fully up.

 It doesn't take much longer for Gabriel to reach his own climax, Jack's name on his lips as he spill his release. Jack eagerly meets Gabriel's lips with his own when Gabriel falls over the edge, groaning into Jack's mouth, Gabriel’s body jerking in time with the throbbing of his cock within Jack's heat. Jack moans and echoes him, noises of contentment rumbling from his own throat and reverberating with Gabriel's.

 Jack loses himself in Gabriel's lips, a comfortable and contented numbness overtaking him with each kiss and before Jack can even register it, his consciousness slips away.

 By the time he finds himself again, the ropes are gone, replaced instead with the gentle embrace of a comfortably soft blanket and the same strong arms that held and grounded him so resolutely just moments ago. They cradle him gently, rubbing at his flank and shoulders through the supple fabric, and slowly coax him back into consciousness.

 “That was nice,” Jack says, a contented smile drifting on his face as he nuzzles against Gabriel's chest.

 His eyes slowly open and he glances up at Gabriel gratefully. Though his vision is still blurry, there is no doubt in his mind that the look on Gabriel's face is as concerned and loving as it was during their first time together.

 “Was it?” Gabriel asks, bending down to plant another kiss to his forehead. “Any pain? Soreness? Aching?” Though he expects an answer, he feeds Jack a piece of chocolate, which he accepts gratefully.

 The chocolate melts against Jack's tongue, and he lets out a small sighing moan of happiness when the warm sweetness spreads. He shakes his head, in reply, the smile never leaving his face even as he chews and swallows.

 “You were perfect,” he replies, “Just the way I like it.”

 Gabriel answers with a noise of acknowledgment, but says little more as he takes Jack's hand and begins to apply balm to the rope marks on his wrists. Though Jack's reply is nothing but the truth, Jack can tell from Gabriel’s stiffness and the slight crease of his brow that the anxiety and guilt from the scene still plagues him.

 “I mean it, babe,” he says, squirming to get a more comfortable position in the cradle of Gabriel's body. He reaches up with his free hand to hold Gabriel by one cheek as he kisses him on the other. He reaches over to snag a piece of chocolate from the dish at Gabriel's side, carefully unwrapping the candy with one hand as Gabriel cares for the other. “I liked it. And I wanna do it again some time…”

 He doesn't miss the brief flash of discomfort on Gabriel's face, and quickly adds, “But not if you don't want to. I want you to like it too.” He holds up the unwrapped chocolate in front of Gabriel's face, feeling slight relief when he opens his mouth to let Jack feed it to him. Gabriel playfully lets his lips kiss the tips of Jack's fingers, and before Jack can pull his hand away, Gabriel lets go of the other and gets to work applying the balm to the wrist.

 Rather than chew the chocolate, Gabriel lets it melt on his tongue slowly, as if savoring the taste as he cares for Jack's bruises and thinks. Firm and gentle hands rub at the faint bruises forming on pale skin, and idly, Jack rubs soothingly at Gabriel's thigh with his freed hand.

 “I don't want you to force yourself to do something you don't want to do,” Jack repeats, leaning in to kiss Gabriel on the temple.

 Gabriel doesn't respond, not immediately, and Jack chalks it up to the chocolate no doubt still melting on his tongue. He patiently waits, indulging himself a little longer in the softness of the blanket, the warmth of Gabriel's embrace, and the soothing gentleness of Gabriel's touch on his skin.

 “It's not that I don't want to, Jack,” Gabriel replies after a moment of silence, shaking his head. He lets go of Jack's wrist, moving to lace their fingers together and giving Jack's hand a firm squeeze. “I do. I just… I could do without the choking. ” His eyes flicker to Jack's neck, and Jack feels his heart clench in sympathy.

 “Okay. No more choking, then. Easy peasy,” Jack says, pulling Gabriel in for another kiss. It's hesitant at first, but Gabriel returns the kiss with his own, bringing Jack's hand to his lips after their faces separate. “The ropes get to stay though, right?”

 Gabriel snorts against Jack's knuckles, his laughs rumbling through Jack's back and fanning the fuzzy warmness growing in his chest. “Of course they stay. They look too good on you to go anywhere.” Jack sighs happily as Gabriel's embrace tightens around him, and after a few moments, he breaks the comfortable silence.

 “They'd look good on you too. Wanna give it a shot?”

 A thoughtful hum chimes from Gabriel, and he answers Jack's playful jab seriously. “Maybe next time, Jackie,” he says, “For now, you wanna get cleaned up?” He loosens his hold around Jack and the blanket, readying himself to move.

 Sure enough, Jack extracts himself from Gabriel’s lap, lazily moving himself off the bed with his careful assistance.

 “Sounds good,” he says, turning to take Gabriel's hand in his, “But I think we should start with you.”

 “Oh?” Gabriel asks, following as Jack leads him by the hand into their bathroom.

If there was ever a thing that simultaneously boggled Jesse beyond belief and also made him more excited than a kid in a candy store, it was the Morrison-Reyes’ household's attitude towards holidays. Whenever any holiday that involved festivities of some sort rolled around, without fail, the house would be covered from floor to ceiling with enough decorations to rival even seasonal shops. And it wasn't just the decorations that embodied the holidays either, Jack and Gabriel themselves would go full out in their celebrations, cheerful and excitable and dressed to the nines in whatever apparel was most fitting. Hell, Gabriel even went so far as to hand-make costumes for the entire family for Halloween, each and every one just as detailed and elaborate as the next; they even had a dedicated shelf for all of the awards for Best Halloween Costumes Gabriel had won over the years — many of them earned before even Jesse and Sombra were adopted.

Nevertheless, despite the somewhat jaded attitudes Jesse and Sombra held about the various holidays thanks to their years spent at the orphanage, Jack and Gabriel's collective holiday spirit was simply too contagious to fight, and after a rather rocky first year in the Reyes-Morrison household, Sombra and Jesse found themselves just as excited about seasonal festivities and holiday celebrations as their adoptive fathers.

For certain, no one could ever accuse Jesse of lacking holiday spirit. If anything, Jesse had it in spades just like his fathers, as evidenced by his excited shouting at six in the morning on Christmas day, yelling for everyone in the house to wake up to open presents. Sombra wasn't quite as keen on waking up so early, but after a rather excitable shake that jolted her to full alertness, the two children all but hurtled themselves into their parents’ bed like twin wrecking balls.

“WAKE UP! IT'S CHRISTMAS!!” they squealed, slapping loudly on the comforter and playfully bapping the sleeping figures with pillows they had taken from their own rooms. “WAKE UP! PRESENTS! MERRY CHRISTMAS!”

After several moments with no response, the two children looked at each other with concern and stopped. Jesse pulled down the covers, wary of what he'd find, and to his and Sombra's surprise, what laid beneath the blankets weren't their fathers at all, but piles of pillows along with a rather sizeable stuffed purple rabbit — Jesse reckoned it was almost the same size as Sombra — with a bow on its head and a gift tag on its ear that read “ Sombra ”.

“It's a bunny!!” Sombra shouted gleefully, pulling the stuffed animal from under the covers and squeezing it in a tight hug. Though happy his sister got something she'd wanted, Jesse was still confused as to where his parents had gone to, and began to look around for clues.

He didn't have to wait for long, however, as the deep sound of someone clearing their throat rumbled from the door and immediately drew his attention. Sure enough, in the doorway stood Gabriel, dressed in an almost obnoxious amount of Christmas-themed clothes: a poofy Santa hat on his head, the ugly laughing reindeer sweater that read  “You SLEIGH me”,  flannel pajama pants patterned with elves and presents and trees all over, and slippers in the shape of Santas covering each foot.

“It's Christmas,” Gabriel said, “What are you kids still in bed for?” He snorted at his own joke, and turned to make his way down the hall, but not before nodding his head in a gesture for the children to follow. The two scrambled from the mess of pillows and covers, shouting in delight as they followed their father downstairs into the living room, nearly tripping over themselves in glee.

The smell of pancakes and cookies and bread greeted them the moment their small slippered feet crossed the doorway, and they immediately plopped themselves down on the couch and on the floor in front of the coffee table to tuck into the traditional Reyes-Morrison Christmas breakfast. Neither of them wasted any time digging into their meal, the two of them rumbling in content and happy noises as they stuffed their faces with the fluffiest pancakes ever known to man and the sweetest fruit preserves courtesy of the Morrison family farm.

“Where's daddy?” Sombra asked, after cutting into her second pancake. Suddenly realizing Jack was nowhere to be found — he hadn't even heard a single sound from the kitchen since he'd woken up — Jesse too swiveled his head around to look.

“He had to do a quick errand,” Gabriel answered smoothly, taking a sip from his coffee.

“For eggs again?” Sombra asked, knowing Jack's almost chronic issue of running out of eggs every Christmas due to his overzealous amount of baking on those mornings. Not that anyone in the house could complain about it, though, what with the piles and piles of baked goodies that lasted them through the entire week and into the new year — even after losing half to the guests at the holiday party they hosted at their own home.

“Something like that,” came the somewhat cryptic answer. Jesse eyed Gabriel suspiciously, and as if to distract him from investigating any further, Gabriel added, “He'll be back any minute now, so after you finish stuffing your faces, each of you figure out which present you're gonna open. Remember, only one for now. You'll get to open the rest later at the party, okay?”

All suspicion went out the window, as just like that, a switch was flipped and Sombra and Jesse began to chew furiously through their food, motivated by their one-track minds now focused on the colorfully-wrapped mysteries beneath the trees.

“Pace yourselves, for crying out loud! I raise children, not animals!” Gabriel playfully scolded, trying not to laugh at his children's excitement, “If either of you choke, I'm gonna take your presents for myself, y’hear? And then neither of you will-”

Before he could even finish his sentence,noises at the door interrupted him, followed by the sound of a familiar voice calling out.

“Babe, I’m home!” came Jack’s voice, echoing from the foyer. “Come help me?”

“Yup! Coming!” Gabriel called back, getting up from his place on the couch. Jesse and Sombra moved to follow, but Gabriel shook his head and said, “Nah, you two finish your breakfast first.  Slowly , please. Your father and I would rather not come back in here to see the two of you passed out because you gluttons couldn’t pace yourselves,” before leaving the room.

The words  “No peeking,”   didn’t need to be said, as Jesse and Sombra knew very well of the repercussions that would occur if they did, and neither of them had the gumption to take Jack’s   “I’m-not-mad-at-you-just-very-disappointed”  face head on, which somehow had the power of Grandma Morrison’s and Ana Amari’s combined with the power of a sad puppy. Not even Gabriel himself could brave such a look for more than a few seconds before crumbling like the tops of one of Jack’s famous Christmas coffee cakes.

The two children watched as Gabriel walked down the hall to greet Jack at the door, smiling that tender smile of his that he always had on whenever the two of them were together, and pulled him into an embrace.

“Gross! Get a room!” Jesse called out playfully.

Jack merely stuck his tongue out at Jesse from over Gabriel’s shoulder, making a show of hugging his husband even tighter and rocking side to side in place to emphasize the embrace. Gabriel played along, as usual, even going so far as to say, “Look, Jackie, mistletoe!” as he pointed up to the flowery sprig hanging from the light hanging in the foyer before kissing his husband sweetly on the lips, the both of them making exaggerated “Muah muah muah!” kissing noises to taunt their children even further.

The noises of laugher and exaggerated affection continued for a little longer until the two men disappeared back out the door to collect what Jack had brought home in the car, and the children went back to their breakfast, eating slowly and methodically as Gabriel had requested of them.

After finishing their meal, the two watched the Christmas movie Gabriel had originally put onto the television for background noise, barely cognizant of the noises and clamoring of their fathers in the kitchen.

“Jesse? Sombra? Could you two come to the kitchen, please?” they heard Jack call to them suddenly. The two looked at each other questioningly, as if the other had the answer as to what their father would possibly be calling them for. When they both could only respond to the other with an equally confused shrug, they figured it would be best to heed Jack’s request as quickly as possible.

They padded to the kitchen, wary and clueless until the distinct and curious sounds of yapping called their attention.

Immediately, Jesse broke into an excited run at the sound, so eager to confirm his suspicions as to the noises’ origins that he nearly slipped and fell face first onto the hardwood floor had it not been for his clever little sister on his heels pulling him upright before he toppled over. Not a split second after he got his bearings back did the two of them break back into a run, barrelling towards the kitchen in their curious glee.

The sight of their fathers standing behind a waist-high gate in the kitchen doorway that had never been there before greeted them, and the two children stood in awe and anticipation as to what that could only mean.

“Merry Christmas, Jesse!” Jack and Gabriel called out, stepping aside with flourish and waving hands to reveal a very large box with a bow stuck to the side.

As if on cue, a furry head poked up from inside the box, letting out a happy yelp as if greeting the sight of the two children. Though the dog seemed to be missing an eye, that didn’t put any sort of damper onto the children’s spirits.

“A pupper!” “A dog!” Sombra and Jesse both cried out in unison, bouncing in place with excitement. Jesse clambored to unlatch the gate, hands shaking in excitement at the prospect of meeting his present face-to-face. He’d always wanted a dog, but had never even thought to ask for one - let alone even put it on his Christmas wish list. After several moments of fumbling, Gabriel moved to assist, only for the both of them to be brushed aside as Sombra competently opened the gate and all but forced her brother into the kitchen before her.

Just as the gate clicked shut behind them, Jack tugged on the ribbon and undid a hidden latch on the side of the large box, letting the front flop forward down onto the floor and freeing the golden retriever — which seemed much larger now that Jesse was up close — of its confines. Without any hesitation at all, the dog rushed forward, just as eager to meet the children as they were to meet her, and all but knocked Jesse to the floor as she bounced up to lick his face.

“Oh my goodness!” Jesse exclaimed happily, laughing as the dog covered him with wet, sloppy licks, barking happily all the while. His hands rubbed at her all over, petting and stroking the soft fur with just as much affection, if not even more so. “Thank you! Thank you! I love it! Thank you!” he cried to his fathers, tears of happiness forming at the corners of his eyes. How could they have possibly known?

“Sombra overheard you talking to Genji about your dog-walking one day,” Gabriel spoke up, as if to answer Jesse’s unasked question, “And made a case for us to get you a dog for Christmas.”

“We were thinking of getting you one anyway,” Jack chimed in, “I mean, what dog-loving 12-year-old boy doesn’t deserve a dog of his own?”

“So,” Gabriel gestured to the furry bundle of joy still piling Jesse with affection, “Merry Christmas, Jesse.”

“You’re welcome,” Sombra said smugly, taking a sugar cookie from the pile on the kitchen island.

“Thank you all so much,” Jesse replied, nearly in tears at how grateful he was, “I love it! Thank you!”

“Her,” Gabriel corrected, “We got her from the pound and kept her at Ana’s for the last week or so-”

“We still need to thank her for that,” Jack interrupted.

“Isn’t that what the limited edition tea set we got her is for?”

“No, that’s just her normal Christmas present, babe.”

“Anyway,” Gabriel shook his head at Jack, pulling the conversation back to the original topic, “They said her name’s Peppermint, but I don’t think she’ll mind if you give her a different name, do you?”

“What do you want to name her, Jesse?” Jack asked.

“Don’t pick something stupid,” Sombra scolded, stuffing the rest of the cookie into her mouth and reaching for another.

Jesse paused for a second in thought, hands resting idly on the dog’s neck. As if to give him the chance to think, the dog pulled back sat down, panting happily as she waited for Jesse’s hands to resume.

It is rare for graduates of the Soldier Enhancement Program to contract illness, what with how their enhanced immune systems are more or less designed to search, attack, and destroy any unknown, dangerous, or foreign pathogens, but it does not mean that it is outside the realm of impossibility for it to happen.

Which is why, when Jack wakes up one morning with a twinge in his chest and a tickle in his throat that just will not quit, he is not at all surprised to see the small fleck of a purple petal stare up at him from a landing pad of black leather when he coughs into his hand. He has seen this symptom before — in himself no less — though of course, he had been much younger and much more impressionable the first time he coughed out a flower petal, unable to believe such a thing could even happen, despite the proof that came out of his very mouth.

Hanahaki , or so the doctors called it, is a strange disease to be sure, in that not only is it born of something that is not pathogenic at all, but it is one where where the victim is doomed to cough up flower petals the longer they suffer from the original cause. That is, to say, one-sided love. The easiest way to cure it is, of course, to have the victim’s love returned to them by the object of their affections.

Another way, one that is not nearly so pleasant, is to have the flowers surgically removed. But of course, this method though much more straightforward and less complicated in regards to solving the issue, is not without side effects.

For you see, love is what causes the flowers to grow or die naturally; it is the source from which the disease stems and takes root. And there is no uprooting a plant entirely without causing damage to the soil from which it grows. With the surgical removal of the hanahaki flowers, so too is are the feelings of love removed. That is to say, the victim will never again love the person for whom they originally held the one-sided affections for. In many cases, it has even been reported that the victim has lost the ability to love entirely.

As ashamed as Jack is to admit it — “A Morrison never quits,” is the family motto his mother had raised he and his brothers on — he had considered having the surgery in his youth when he first contracted the disease, even after being told the consequences. Truth be told, back then he never expected his love would be returned, given who the object of his affection was, and the idea of never loving them romantically ever again — or feeling romantic love for anyone at all afterward — was not something that weighed all that heavily in his mind.

Of course, now is a different story. Were it not for the fact that the circumstances of his life now are so drastically different from back then, he would likely take the surgical cure into consideration once more.

Twenty years have passed since his love was returned, and Jack is now happily married to the person who he had harbored affections for so many years ago, none other than Gabriel Reyes, a man who he loved so dearly that he would rather die still loving him, choking on flowers and roots and all, than to ever give up that feeling for anything. Even now, in the midst of all the chaos that comes with their roles as the Overwatch and Blackwatch Commanders during the Omnic Crisis, and all the conflict and animosity between them whenever their roles and duties clash with one another, Jack can list a million and one things — including his own life — that he would rather sacrifice than his love for Gabriel.

Still, the reemergence of the petals are a cause for concern, and Jack frowns at the purple fleck in his palm. Hanahaki is only ever present in cases of a one-sided love, and given that he and Gabriel are both happily married there should be no reason that he should be coughing up petals. Jack harbors no romantic feelings for anyone else, and as far as he is aware, Gabriel is the same way.

Granted, the both of them are in rocky terms with one another, in a fight over something that Jach honestly can no longer even recall what had even sparked it to begin with, but that did not mean they did not still love each other. No relationship is without its conflicts, and what with their roles in the organization essentially being a rather crude system of checks and balances, it is only natural that the stress of recent events around the globe and managing Overwatch’s involvement thereof would have only increased tensions between the two of them.

It is not as if they have started hating each other, or that they have fallen out of love. The love is still there for sure, Jack knows it from the way Gabriel still interacts with him during their downtime, however rare those occasions may be.

Then again, of course, those occasions have become fewer and further in between as of late, what with Jack’s time devoted to dealing with cleaning up the public relations nightmare that resulted from Overwatch’s unauthorized deployment to London during the omnic uprising. Gabriel himself has his own messes to deal with, and as much as Jack would like to know as a concerned spouse what is occupying so much of Gabriel’s time as of late, his status as the Strike Commander all but dictates on many occasions that it is better that he not know at all.

“If the U.N. finds out that you not only knew about some of these Blackwatch operations, but even went so far as to authorize them, Jackie, you can bet your pretty little ass is going to get removed from the chair of the Strike Commander. For the sake of keeping Overwatch what it is and making sure we’re able to do the most we can, it’s better this way,” Gabriel had told him.

Jack had no reason to doubt him then — to believe Gabriel was doing anything that was not considered to be absolutely necessary — just like how he has no reason to doubt Gabriel now, both in his role as the Blackwatch Commander and in his role as a husband.

But even Jack knows that simply believing in something does not necessarily make it true. He believes that Gabriel still loves him, and Gabriel has yet to disprove that, but he misses hearing those three simple words coming from Gabriel’s mouth. He misses the sweet nothings the both of them used to whisper to each other under their breaths when only the other was close enough to hear them. He misses the communication most of all.

The love is there, but without affirmation of it every now and again, sprinkled in occasionally between the unpleasant interactions they are bound by duty to have so often, sometimes it is hard to feel it and know it at the same time.

Jack takes another glance at the purple petal before he throws it into the trash, feeling slightly childish for thinking this way. They are both adults with very busy lives, they have no time to indulge themselves in sweet romantic nothings, not with global peace at stake.

Ultimately, Jack chalks the single petal as a fluke and pays it no mind. He writes it off as a spontaneous onset of something psychosomatic caused by the rough patch the two of them are having. It is not a big deal; he will soon get over it and the petals will surely go away on their own.

The tickle in his throat comes back again as he is in the middle of of a meeting with some politicians visiting the Headquarters from the Argentinian Embassy in Bern. He excuses himself from the room briefly when he spots three petals in his after he covers his mouth to cough, and flushes them down the toilet to dispose of them. After washing his face and rinsing his mouth to make sure no stray purple petals are stuck to his teeth, he returns to the meeting and conducts himself as if nothing had ever happened. Jack continues to convince himself that the flowers will go away on their own.

The tension between himself and Gabriel never gets any better despite Jack’s best efforts to convince himself otherwise, and eventually the animosity that has grown between them over the past several weeks becomes far too much for Ana to tolerate. What begins as a casual reminder about how certain Overwatch assets need prior authorization from the Strike Commander before they can be used somehow ends up a heated discussion about overstepping authority when one is no longer left with a choice. Jack is about to reply to Gabriel when Ana steps into the room to intervene.

“Gabriel,” Ana interrupts, “Angela needs you in the medbay. It’s about Jesse’s arm.” Her tone leaves no doubt as to the urgency of the matter, and before Gabriel makes a move to leave the room, he locks gazes with Jack, letting him know under no uncertain terms that their discussion about the subject is not yet done. He receives a nod from Jack in acknowledgment along with a quiet, “Later, then,” in reply, and opens his mouth to speak when Jack looks away.

Ana levels him with a gaze of her own and Gabriel’s mouth promptly snaps shut, pursing in a clear indication of irritation before he turns to head off to the med bay.

“So can I ask what this is all about?” Ana breaks the lingering silence that has settled over the room after Gabriel’s departure. “What is going on with you two? Every time I see you two talking lately, it ends up like this. What is  this , Jack?”

‘It’s nothing,” Jack answers, waiting a beat or two before responding, wary that a reply coming out far too quickly would have less of a chance to be believed. “We’re just going through some stuff right now. Strike-Commander-and-Blackwatch-Commander-related stuff. Nothing you need to worry about.”

Ana frowns at that, no doubt frustrated with the fact that she knows that Jack is not telling her the entire truth, and unable to call him out on it because he is also technically not lying. “Is that really all it is? Jack, I am your second-in-command, but I am also your friend, as am I Gabriel’s friend. If there is something that is bothering the both of you, I ask that you let me know if there is anything I can do to help.”

“I mean it, Ana, there’s noth-” he almost manages to convince Ana — or so he believes — that there really is nothing going on between the two of them that cannot be handled privately, before the tickle in his throat and chest forces him to cut himself off.

He covers his mouth to catch the petals before they leave his mouth, but even with the speed and reflexes granted to him by the SEP, Jack is no match for Ana’s enhanced cybernetic eye. She rushes over to his side immediately at the first glimpse of the color purple, sympathy and concern written all over her face in a way that makes Jack almost want to scold her for.

“Oh, Jack, why do you always do this? Why do you always take things up all by yourself?” she chides, rubbing at Jack's back in an effort to help calm down his convulsions.

“It’s noth-nothing,” Jack somehow manages to say through his coughs, doing his best to sound as insistent and convincing as he can.

But of course, Ana will have none of it. She, too has seen hanahaki first-hand, and knows all the treatments for it. Whether or not she can understand exactly why it is happening to Jack now is beyond Jack’s guess, but he trusts Ana not to make any wild or incorrect assumptions about himself and Gabriel - especially given how long the three of them have known each other.

“ This   is not nothing, Jack!   This is serious and you two need to have a discussion about what is causing this right now. Now, before you get any worse!” she insists, tugging at Jack by the arm and pushing him forward in an effort to make him move.

“Ana, I said I’m fine! This is nothing. I’m okay. Gabe and I are going to talk later. He’s busy,” Jack replies, shaking his head, and of course, refusing to budge despite Ana’s best efforts.

“ This  is not fine! You are coughing up flowers! Look how many there are!” she nearly shouts, tugging his hand away from his mouth to reveal the palmful of purple petals to emphasize her point. “You need to go to the medbay. Go speak with Gabriel, please.”

“No, Ana, not right now. This is only a few petals and it isn’t that bad. Gabe has a mission coming up and this is the last thing he needs right now, especially with what’s already going on with Jesse.”

“Jack-”

“I said we’ll talk when he gets back. Isn’t that good enough? I’m not going to die before the mission is over, I promise!”

“No, Jack, you need to talk to him  now ,” Ana says, her tone cold, firm, and harsh in the way Jack has only ever heard on the battlefield commanding the troops from a sniper perch.

“Ana, Gabe has enough to deal with right now - especially with the recon mission in Barcelona coming up. I am not going to burden or piss him off any more than I already have. Right now, the mission is all that matters, and he needs to stay focused on it. And it's my job to make sure he can do that to the best of his ability and without any interference,” Jack replies, not daring to look at her directly. He can just tell what kind of expression is on her face right now, and there is no way he would be able to stomach her anger and pity.

Another cough tries to erupt from Jack's chest, and thankfully, he is able to keep it down. He disguises it as a quick clearing of his throat, raising his fist to his mouth in show just before he turns his head to spit the petal out between his slightly uncurled fingers.

“Jack,” Ana begins again, her voice just as unwavering as before. “You-”

“ Enough , Ana,” Jack snaps, cutting her off before she can say anymore. He throws the fistful of petals away into the trashcan, and finally meets her gaze with his own. “It's going to wait until next week, and that's final. I'm not discussing this any further. Go get Fareeha from the medbay; I'm sure she's snuck in to check on Jesse again.”

The moment of silence that follows is almost agonizing, and Jack half-expects Ana to slap him for being so stubborn. There is only so much bullshit anyone can take; and after putting up with his and Gabriel's antics for so long, Jack can only consider it a miracle that Ana has stuck around for so long already. Jack is in the middle of turning back around when hears the creaking of leather — as a hand is no doubt balled into a tight fist — and he instinctively braces himself, body tensing and his jaw tightening in anticipation.

What he gets from Ana is not at all what he expects. It is not a raised hand, though it undoubtedly still hurts just as bad, if not worse. Ana instead meets him with eyes full of angry tears, spitting out angry words at him in Arabic  — almost too fast for Jack to follow — as she turns on her heel, and storms away, cursing all the while. Jack does manage to catch a few key phrases before she disappears from his sight completely, and he knows from his studies and from how often Ana has used them phrase in the past that none of them are particularly pleasant.

Jack does not blame her for her anger. If anything, cursing him to hell and calling him a son of a donkey is infinitely nicer than any of the other words or phrases he feels he deserves.

His gaze turns back to the flower petals in the trash, and he says a quiet prayer that everything will turn out fine: that Jesse will recover with no complications, that the Barcelona mission will go without a hitch, that he and Gabriel will sort things out afterwards, that the flowers will go away, and Ana will no longer have to fuss or worry about the both of them.

Of course, life always seems to find a way to make sure that things never work like how you want them to. Jack should have known better than to have hoped otherwise.

The damage to Jesse’s arm is determined to be far too extensive to be able to heal even with Angela Ziegler’s biotic healing technology, and though he is outfitted with a cybernetic replacement, Gabriel's orders — Jesse was all too ready to ignore the doctor's own — have him stay behind in the medbay.

Gabriel does a good job of putting up a strong front of acting like Jesse's incident is more an inconvenience than an actual subject of concern, but after being with him for so many years, Jack would have to be blind to not see the worry that creases Gabriel's brow, the guilt that sets in his shoulders, and the frustration that tugs down at the corners of his lips. Jack watches from afar as Gabriel and the rest of the small Blackwatch Strike Team boards the transport ship, feeling slightly anxious even though he has already seen Gabriel's plans and has approved the changes. Wary of losing another one of their agents, Blackwatch operates more cautiously in Barcelona and the mission gets extended another few days.

A few days turns into another two weeks when it is discovered that the bombings and sudden resurgence of Omnic forces are connected to a God Program, and Gabriel and Jack both come to the consensus that it needs to be eliminated as quickly as possible.

With Overwatch already spread so thin, Jack goes with Ana's squad when an uprising in Łódź involving a hostage situation requires their attention immediately. They recover the hostages, but Jack spends the next several days barely able to hold himself together as he mourns the loss of not only his second-in-command, but one of his best friends.

Despite his grief, he does his best to maintain his composure in public, remaining strong and stoic as he holds a press conference about Overwatch’s efforts and how optimistic the outlook is that the Crisis will end in the near future. No one could ever know that in private, Jack Morrison is falling apart at the seams, struggling with almost every breath to choke back the sobs that threaten to erupt when he thinks about the loss of Ana, or the worrisome amounts of flower petals that are no doubt blooming at an alarming rate in his lungs.

When Gabriel finally returns, Jack can only welcome him back as the Strike Commander, the title that has him bound to fulfilling his duties before personal matters can even be thought about, much less addressed. Hell, after Gabriel gives his report about what took place in Barcelona, Jack barely has time to recount the rescue in Łódź and break the news about Ana before the UN calls him away for another meeting and press conference concerning Overwatch. Jack attempts to console Gabriel as best he can in what little time he has, but when he gets brushed off, he can do nothing more than swallow down the petals that tickle at his throat and ignore the pain in his chest as he make way for the tarmac.

As the jet lifts off the runway, Jack tries to ignore the haunting voice inside his head — it speaks in Ana’s voice and not his own, which he chalks up to guilt — calling him heartless for abandoning his spouse in a time of emotional need, but to no avail. All he can think about as he reviews his notes for the meeting is how desperately he wants the plane to turn right around so he can go back to their room, embrace his husband, and empty their chests of all the pent up feelings and frustrations that they had been holding back for so long. The separation between them feels even further emotionally than it does physically, and it pains Jack even more than the physical presence inside his lungs.

More reports come in from Watchpoints and agents all over the globe, and by the time Jack returns to Headquarters, the flower petals are the last thing that are on Jack's mind. Despite the almost exponential growth in frequency in which he is coughing them up, there are far more pertinent matters that need to be resolved. More and more things happen across the board, one after another. There are far too many things to deal with that come up, and nearly each and every one of them have priority over Jack's tiny little problem. Jack has every intention of keeping his promise to Ana — who he constantly has to remind himself is no longer here and not to dwell in that fact — but the window of opportunity to sit and talk with Gabriel not as Overwatch and Blackwatch Commanders, but as husband and husband, shrinks by the day.

If it is not one thing, it is something else; and before long, a chain of events is set off that slams the window shut.

A few weeks after Jack’s return to Zurich, Jesse McCree disappears from the Overwatch Headquarters, leaving behind little more than a farewell note thanking Gabriel Reyes and the rest of the original Strike Team for their support all these years. Shortly after, Genji Shimada announces his need for a leave of absence for personal reasons. At the loss of two of his best agents, Gabriel withdraws even further into himself, burying himself in his own work and avoiding Jack as much as possible.

They still sleep in the same bed when they can, that much Jack is thankful for, and there is solace to be found and slight relief from the pain in his chest when the warmth of Gabriel’s body can be felt laying beside him beneath the sheets.

That is, until the U.N. forces Reinhardt to retire, and Jack’s condition worsens. As thankful as he is that Torbjorn is still around to keep Gabriel and himself from being the only ones left of the original Strike Team — and what would otherwise be a painful reminder of what happened to all the other participants of the SEP by the time they graduated — he is not nearly as skilled as Reinhardt when it comes to emotional counseling, and after being told to just “stop complaining and go talk to Gabriel” for the fifth time — though this time accompanied with a slamming of a door — Jack resigns himself to his fate, feeling lonelier than he can ever recall being in his life.

The pain and heaviness in his chest grows even further, and eventually his ability to stifle his coughs ceases to even exist. He wakes up in the middle of the night, coughing up those same purple petals as usual. He slaps a hand to his mouth and bolts out of bed to the bathroom, hoping to whatever power is there that Gabriel is still sound asleep. The annoyed groan he hears alongside the rustling of sheets and the mutter of, “For god’s sake…” before the door closes behind him tells him all he needs to know, and Jack tries to stay as quiet as possible as he coughs up another shower of petals into the toilet bowl.

The flowers chafe and tickle and hurt all at once as they come up, and Jack nearly retches a few times as his body struggles to clear the petals out as best it can. He is left panting and gasping for breath after minutes of coughing and choking, tears running down his face and blurring with the sweat on his skin. When it seems the fit has finally passed and Jack collapses to lay down on the floor, he hears a knock on the door.

“Jackie? You okay?” Gabriel asks from the other side. Jack can only hope that it is concern that he hears in Gabriel’s voice and not irritation, and feels his chest aching again at the fact that it has been so long since the two of them connected with one another that he can no longer tell without looking at Gabriel’s face.

“I’m… I’m fine,” Jack rasps back. He panics at the realization that he had forgotten to lock the door behind him, and rushes to flush the second he hears the doorknob even begin to turn. “It’s nothing.”

There is a pause before he gets a response, pregnant enough to make Jack wince inwardly, and reconsider lying to Gabriel. Just as he begins to muster up the courage to tell Gabriel no, that he is not okay at all, he can hear Gabriel taking a step back from the door.

“You sure?” comes the response.

“Yeah, I’m sure. Just go back to sleep. I’ll be fine.”

Jack can already feel the flowers starting to grow back when the soft padding of bare feet can be heard moving away from the door, and he fights back the tears that threaten to form. He can hear Ana cursing at him from inside his head, outraged that the two of them still have not talked with one another despite so much time having passed since her funeral. If only she were here, Jack thinks miserably.

That night is the last night they sleep in the same room together for more than a few hours at a time, as the middle-of-the-night coughing fits become almost routine. Unwilling to deprive Gabriel of valuable sleep - or heaven forbid, risking him figuring out what is wrong - Jack begins spending his nights on the couch in his office, more often than not lying awake in misery instead of asleep like he wishes he were.

Jack has already started to cough up blood along with parts of entire flowers — whole chunks of petals and bloom coming up all at once —  by the time the whispers about Talon infiltrating Overwatch are heard along the grapevine. The rumors are unfounded, from what Jack can tell — Overwatch has been more than thorough when it comes to background checks on all of its agents and staff — but Gabriel is unconvinced. He insists on looking into it, even going so far as to blame the failed mission that cost McCree his arm on sabotage, and implying other random occurrences such as database errors to be the work of a Talon agent.

In the past, Jack would be following Gabriel's intuition without any hesitation and giving him all the resources he needs to flush the supposed mole out. However, the U.N. has had him by the throat since London and Barcelona, threatening to strip Jack of his authority if not disbanding Overwatch entirely if the Crisis is not ended before their set deadline. Jack knows that the demands are ludicrous and next to impossible, but he dares not risk it. Overwatch’s numbers have been dwindling steadily, and there is no way they would have enough time nor resources to spare on this mole hunt.

“Then for fuck’s sake, I'll do it on my own!” Gabriel shouts, livid when Jack denies his request for the third time. “It's Talon, Jack! You know, the terrorist organization that's been responsible causing more or less everything wrong in the world except for maybe the Omnics since before everything even started! You're just going to let them fuck us up like this? After everything we've done?”

“I know, Gabe, but I can't give you permission to just-”

“To just what, Jack?”

“To just abandon your duty as Blackwatch Commander to go do as you please!”

“ Do as I please  ?” Gabriel seethes in enraged disbelief. “Are you fucking joking right now, Jack!? I'm not doing this because I   want   to! I'm doing this because I   need to! If Talon gets what it wants because they were able infiltrate and sabotage Overwatch, guess what? There isn't going to be a fucking Overwatch anymore in near future!”

“You think I don't know that?! You think I don't get that's what's going to happen?! I'm not an idiot, Gabe! I know damn well that Talon will fuck Overwatch over if we leave them be! That's why I'm trying to end this fucking crisis as fast as I can!” Jack slams his hand against the table, too exhausted mentally, physically, and emotionally to stay calm like he should, screaming himself hoarse. “The sooner we put a stop to the omnics, the sooner we can-!”

The sudden flaring of pain in his chest interrupts him before he can finish the thought. His lungs convulse and constrict in his chest, forcing him to cough so violently that he doubles over onto his knees, one arm desperately clasped over his own mouth to catch all of the blood and petals while the other reaches out to hold onto his desk in a desperate attempt to keep himself upright.

To his slight shock and humiliation, a hand wraps around his arm while another steadies his back, and Jack can feel his eyes welling up with tears at the realization that Gabriel is holding him throughout the attack.

“Jack, what's happening!? What's wrong!?”

He’s sobbing now, struggling to breathe as the blood and petals clog at his windpipe, and Gabriel is growing more and more agitated and frantic the longer the coughing fit goes on. He rubs at Jack’s back, thumping him occasionally to try and loosen what sounds like extreme congestion in the lungs, but after minutes of Jack’s condition persisting — if not worsening — he begins tugging at Jack’s hand, trying to pull it away from his mouth so that whatever it is caught in his system can get forced out. Jack resists as much as he can, but left weak and tired from so many sleepless nights, Gabriel wins out in the end. At long last, with a forceful yank that nearly pulls Jack’s entire body forward, Gabriel rips Jack’s hand away from his mouth. Sure enough, without anything to help hold it all in, the bits of gore and flowers caught in Jack’s mouth and throat are puked onto the carpet, staining the grey fabric with a grotesque amount of red and purple.

“Oh my god, Jack… Was this-?! Why did you-?!” Gabriel splutters as his eyes widen in horror and disbelief at the mess on the floor. Jack can’t bear to even meet his eyes, unable to face whatever else that might be found there - anger, disappointment, betrayal, or god forbid,  relief  - lest he end up falling apart entirely. He merely shakes his head, burying his face in his hands as sobs wrack his body.

“Why didn’t you say anything sooner?!” Gabriel demands, desperation and anger clear as a bell in his voice. He sounds close to tears himself, and Jack can only be grateful that he can’t see his expression when Gabriel gathers him into his arms. He buries his face into Gabriel’s shoulder, crying all the while despite Gabriel’s hand rubbing circles on his back and rocking both of their bodies in an effort to calm the both of them down.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” Jack sobs against the rough fabric of Gabriel’s hoodie, realizing what a mess he is making of Gabriel’s uniform and feeling even worse for it. It’s a stupid thing to think about, in retrospect, what with the comparative weight of everything else that went wrong stacking against such a small thing like a piece of lint against an avalanche, but Jack is already overwhelmed enough as it is, and everything else is just too much to process.

Distantly, he can hear Gabriel shushing him, understanding and patient in a way that Jack finds almost too much to bear. He doesn’t deserve Gabriel’s love and kindness, not after so many weeks- months- even  years , perhaps, of disappointment and unhappiness. Each repetition of “It’s okay. You’re okay,” twists in his chest like a knife, and Jack cries even harder, tears adding to the already existing mess blood and petals staining Gabriel’s clothes.

Later, when Jack looks back on that day, he can only be thankful that the both of them were so caught up in each other in that moment that neither of them died with thoughts of anything else occupying their mind. At least, he hopes that is how it was for Gabriel in his last moments.

Jack wishes he could say something about how the both of them died in the explosion like the heroes on pedestals people always seem to want soldiers like he and Gabriel to turn out to be. That he and Gabriel had flushed out the Talon mole in their midst, and captured them without alerting anyone else. That they managed to interrogate the mole into giving them the exact locations of where they had planted the bombs. That they were attempting to disarm the bomb before the detonation occurred as the mole had left them no time time for evacuation.

Jack wishes he could say that he and Gabriel did all those those things, but he can’t. Not without lying through his goddamn teeth about a man that meant the world to him and deserved much better than he could offer, and hating himself even more than he already does.

1.

Jacket-and-tie restaurants didn't much suit Jesse, and truth be told, they didn't suit Jack much either.

“Something wrong?” Jesse asked, clearly concerned.

Wordlessly, Jack got up from his seat. He took Jesse by the hand, tugged him out of the chair, and lead him out of the restaurant. Jesse followed without so much as a protest.

The second they were clear of the restaurant doors, Jesse turned to Jack and asked, "You're not cancelling our date, are you?”

Jack shook his head and laughed, moving to reassure Jesse with a kiss. “Nah, just wanted to go somewhere that wasn't so... stiff,” he replied.

“But…”

“And as long as you're here, I'm happy.”

At that, Jesse's face lit up, and he kissed Jack in response. “Aw, sugar,” he cooed as he pulled away, “I'm the same way.”

“You up for pancakes instead, then?”

“Absolutely,” Jesse replied, leaning in for another kiss.

2.

Jesse woke up with his throat feeling like he'd gargled gravel, run over by a train, and his head had been split open with how painful his headache was. For a moment, the unfamiliar motel bed made him wonder what had happened the night prior, but the bandages wrapped around his torso and pan of bullet shards on the nightstand told him all he needed to know.

“Finally awake, are you?” an eerily familiar voice asked.

Jesse nearly felt his heart stop in his chest. He'd recognize that voice anywhere; he'd missed it terribly, grieving and mourning for days when he'd first read the news about the Zurich explosion.

“ Jack ?!” he gasped, unable to believe his own eyes. Without thinking, Jesse rushed out of the bed and pulled the other man into a bone-crushing embrace. Jack didn't didn't so much as flinch, and hugged him back.

“I missed you too.”

3.

“Is something wrong, McCree?” Jack asked, not so much as even glancing up from his holo-display as he took a sip of coffee. Jesse didn’t think he had been that obvious with his occasional staring, and winced as if he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Those blue eyes met with his, and Jesse felt compelled to answer.

“It’s nothing!” he replied, almost too quickly to be believed. He cleared his throat, and tried to collect himself. “I mean- Well, it’s just that… that’s my coffee you’re drinking, sir.” He gestured to the cactus print on the side of the mug.

“I'm sorry,” he says.

Forgiveness, much like respect, is earned, not given.

Joseph knows far too well that he has much to say, much to do, and much to prove, to earn both of those things back from both Mary and Robert.

He's hurt them. He's hurt them both in ways for which he knows he has no right to ask for forgiveness.

But still, he tries.

He asks anyways. He talks with them —  the both of them —  for hours upon hours, and despite all the tears, the well-deserved shouting and screaming, and the crying that happens so often that they've run out of tissues, they miraculously accept his apologies.

But they won't forgive him.

Not yet.

He hasn't earned the right to be forgiven yet, and Joseph accepts it. He wholeheartedly agrees.

He can only be grateful that the kids are with their grandparents for the week, far away and unable to see the mess their parents and their “Uncle” Robert has become, eyes and faces all reddened and damp from drying tears and freshly reopened heartache.

“I'll do whatever it takes to earn your forgiveness,” he says, gaze firm on the both of them, absolutely resolute in his decision. He needs to make amends, not for the petty reason of alleviating his own conscience of guilt, but to ease the suffering that he's inflicted on the both of them.

He's not so foolish as to think he can just erase all the anguish he's caused the three of them in the span of one afternoon and a single apology. He knows the wounds his actions have left on their hearts will never go away, but if he can at least get them to start healing, to start stitching up the injuries, then he'll do whatever it takes. He owes them that much.

They look at him first, then at each other, the anxiety and apprehension in their eyes making it crystal clear that they still doubt him, that they still doubt his intentions. And he doesn't blame them for that.

“Give us some time,” Mary says, hands clenched and clasped together atop the dinner table. Her eyes don't meet his, looking off to the side as if unable to even look at him without getting upset again.

“We've got some stuff to talk about,” Robert adds, expression tight and body tensed in a way Joseph recognizes. He's withdrawing into himself, the lengthy discussion where they all spilled their hearts into the open clearing taking a toll on him.

They're wary; they're afraid he'll just break their hearts again.

He doesn't blame them for being cautious.

“Got it,” he says, nodding. “I'll be at the church, then. Take as long as you need.”

Their discussion lasts well into the evening, and by the time the church doors close, Joseph still hasn't received any word from either of them. He contemplates just staying inside the church for the rest of the night, and after coming to the conclusion that there is no other place for him to go — nowhere else where questions wouldn't be asked or trust wouldn't be broken again — Joseph begins to wander towards the minister’s office, his own office, figuring that the couch would offer a somewhat comfortable place to rest his head for the night.

He never thought he would ever see the church as a place he would describe as ‘cold’ given all the happy, friendly faces of the parishioners that always seem to greet him whenever they see him in the building, but beneath the fluorescent lights, the empty hallways and linoleum floors makes Joseph feel as empty inside as the church is now. His footsteps echo the building, the solid heels of his loafers clapping against the polished floors, and he can't help but compare the sound to those of his own footsteps against the hardwood floors of his own house. Even on the rare occasions he was in the house by himself and everything was clean and spotless, Joseph can't recall feeling anything but ‘warm’ there.

He flips off the lights with a sigh, and takes a few steps up the stairs when his phone buzzes in his pocket.

From Mary: Where r u?

His thumb flies across the screen to answer her.

To Mary: Still at the church

He wants to ask if their discussion has ended yet, if it's all right for him to return home, but he knows better. He left the house specifically so Mary and Robert wouldn't feel pressured by his presence, after all. Nevertheless, the anxiety in his chest doesn't go anywhere, coiling and writhing in his chest as he watches the three dots on the screen fade in and out.

From Mary: Come home.

To Mary: Have u 2 eaten yet?

From Mary: Not yet. Get pizza.

He begins typing his reply when another message from Mary immediately dings on his phone.

From Mary: Hawaiian plz

To Mary: 1 pepperoni and 1 Hawaiian. Got it.

From Mary: Smalls says 2 Hawaiian or you're a coward.

He gets home less than an hour later with two pizzas in tow, both Hawaiian, technically, one with the usual ham and pineapple, while the other is something less traditional.

“Hawaiian Barbecue?” Robert remarks, grimacing slightly when he tastes barbecue sauce instead of tomato, and his teeth tear through a cheesy pocket of chicken, bacon, pineapple, and onion.

“Coward,” Mary snorts, grabbing a slice from the other box.

“Still a Hawaiian pizza, technically,” Joseph replies. A small smile makes its way onto his face, and he shrugs before he grabs a slice of pizza from the same box Robert did, noting the way Robert is already biting into his crust.

It's a little foolish of him feel this way, but the fact that the both of them are still willing to joke with him like this brings a small warmth to Joseph's chest — a different warmth than he's used to feeling, a nostalgic kind of warmth. For a moment, things feel right between them again, like how it was before the kids came into the picture and after Robert had just moved to Maple Bay and into their little cul-de-sac. He and Mary had taken it upon themselves to befriend the newcomer, and they all got along swimmingly. He dare not get his hopes up too much, though. There is still so much work to be done before things are even close to being fixed between the three of them, and he knows better than to count his proverbial chickens before they hatch.

They eat in relative silence after that, Mary tucking away two slices before getting up and disappearing into the kitchen. The men put away three slices each before Joseph taps himself out when Robert reaches for his fourth.

The silence lingers, and Joseph can feel Robert's gaze on him every now and then though he never meets those piercing brown eyes with his own. The urge to try and lighten the mood, to stir up some form of conversation, begins to crawl up his chest like a frog in his throat, but he quickly quashes it back down, remembering how much Robert dislikes small talk.

Instead, he drums his fingers on the table, and his idle gaze settles on Mary's empty chair, still pulled out as if waiting alongside himself and Robert for Mary's return. Joseph’s mind begins to wander. Where has Mary gone? What did she and Robert discuss beyond Joseph’s inexcusable behavior and actions? Did they come to a conclusion as to what he needed to do to earn their forgiveness?

A storm of anxiety rumbles in his chest and he expects for the worst.

“Breathe, for crying out loud,” he hears Robert grumble, “You're turning bluer than your damn sweater.”

Joseph does as he's told. He inhales deeply through his nose and exhales just as forcefully the same way. The knot in diaphragm slowly unwinds, and by the time Mary gets back with two glasses of wine — “Hey, what about me?” — and a bottle of water for Robert, he's calmed down a little. He does raise an eyebrow when Robert untwists the cap and takes a sip, though, slightly in awe at the sight. He's almost positive they still have a bottle of whiskey somewhere in the house, and half-expected some strong words to be said about its absence at the table.

“I'm cutting myself off. Going sober like I shoulda done ages ago,” Robert says, answering Joseph’s unspoken question.

“He's been clean for about a week now,” Mary chimes in, raising her now half-full glass at Robert while leaning over to hand the other one to him. “I'm so proud of him.”

“Gold star,” Robert chuckles, raising his water bottle.

Joseph raises his glass in recognition as well, but hesitates to bring it to his lips. Wasn't drinking in front of someone trying recover a little… inconsiderate?

“It's fine,” he says, waving it off. “Mary's been drinking in front of me all week.”

He's about to open his mouth in protest,unsure as to what to do, when he realizes Robert's eyes haven't left his face and Mary's gaze is boring into him too. Hesitantly, he reaches for the glass, picking it up with an unsteady hand. He swirls the wine once, twice, three times before he takes a sip.

The floral notes tickle his nose quite pleasantly, and the drink goes down smooth. The taste of the wine is familiar, but definitely not something he or Mary drinks regularly, and he can't quite put his finger on the year or vintage until his eyes drift to the label on the bottle and the realization hits him like a pile of bricks.

There, on customized label adhered to the green glass, reads:

Joseph and Mary Christiansen

June 16th, 2006

sandwiching their favorite engagement photo.

One of the bottles of wine left over from their wedding, of course. How could he have forgotten? A small smile makes its way onto his lips at the sight of the barely visible 1 in the date text, the recollection of a happy, giggling, tipsy Mary still in her wedding dress scratching at the number on all the extra bottles of wine they were sending  home — “Look, sugarbear, our wedding date’s scary now!” —  just as vivid as the rest of his wedding day flashing through his mind.

His eyes settle on the photograph and the smile quickly fades. He and Mary looked so young and happy then… Guilt pangs in his chest, and he continues to state at the label almost nostalgically.

“Don't make that face,” Mary says suddenly, shaking him from his thoughts, “I didn't break open a bottle of something that reminds me of one of the happiest days of my life just to guilt trip you.”

The tone of her voice is serious and slightly distant, yet contains no trace of the resentment and weariness it usually does. Joseph's heart eases a little and he takes another sip. For some reason, it tastes slightly sweeter than before, and before he knows it, he finishes the glass at the same time Mary does. The empty glasses are placed back onto the table, and Mary makes no move to refill either.

Her eyes look at Robert, who looks back somewhat expectantly, his empty hand giving her a careless wave as if encouraging her to say what's on her mind. An unusual gesture, to say the least, as Mary isn't the kind of woman who would let anyone stop her from speaking her mind to begin with, let alone defer to someone else for permission.

Mary sits up straighter, and Joseph does the same, giving her his full attention as she begins to speak.

“Sma- Robert and I talked while you were gone — duh — and we discussed a lot of things a great deal,” she says, “While we still haven't forgiven you — and to be perfectly honest, we aren't even sure if we ever will — for what you did to us, we did decide on what the first step should be for you to earn our forgiveness.”

“Given how much shit we've all been through, Mary and I came to the conclusion that wouldn't be fair — for you, her, me, any of us —  to make you choose what you're gonna do right away. Whether or not you stay and work things out with Mary or go fuck off and do your own thing isn't gonna be an easy decision to make — and definitely not one I'm gonna get involved in, ‘cause that's between you two — so for now, we're gonna focus on fixing whats going on with the three of us first. On our relationship with each other,” Robert adds.

Though he's not exactly sure what that means, Joseph nods his head to reassure them that they have his attention, and he's still following along. He's not about to interrupt them, especially about something so important, when he figures any and all questions he'll come up with will be answered soon enough anyway.

“Long story short, what Smalls is trying to say is that the three of us need to work on figuring out what we want, what we need, and how the other two are gonna fit into that,” Mary summarizes. “We still have a week before the kids get back, and I want things figured out between us as fast and as best we can before then.”

“How… How exactly are we going to do that?” Joseph asks.

Robert shakes his head, holding up a hand next to his ear and wagging a finger. “Not ‘we’,” he says. He points his finger at Joseph directly. “‘You’. Mary and I both know what we want from each other and from you. Everything from this point on hinges on you figuring out what you want from us and how you figure would be the best way to go about it. Until we know you can be honest with yourself, we'll always be doubting whether or not you can be honest with us, and that's no bueno.”

“Robby and I figured we should all just go about our usual daily business for now since, like he said, we don't want to rush things. But because, like we said, there's a time limit, and you're the one we're waiting on, so…” Mary continues where Robert leaves off. “We'll give you until Friday night —  that's three full days and nights from now — to figure it out, and then we'll talk some more, and go from there.”

“Sounds fair,” Joseph replies, “I just… I just hope I'll have things figured out by then.”

“There's no ‘hope you will’, Joseph,” Robert says, frowning, “That kinda thinking and attitude is what got us here in the first place. Figure your shit out, or we're going to decide for you. Which, believe me, is not something Mary and I wanna do.”

Robert gets up from the table, picking up the box with what's left of the regular Hawaiian pizza and gesturing to the both of them as he pushes in his chair. “Anyway, I'm gonna head out. I got stuff to do. See ya later.”

“Take care,” Joseph says, politely waving him off though he still can't look at him directly for more than a few seconds at a time.

“Take it sleazy, Smalls,” Mary bids him a farewell, waving briefly before moving to clear the table. Joseph stands up to help, but Mary shakes her head, the expression on her face somewhere between anxiety and sadness. “You should go too. It's getting late.”

For a brief moment, Joseph's brain can't quite comprehend what she's saying. This is his home; where else is he supposed to go? That is, until he remembers the situation and comes to the realization and understanding that staying under the same roof and sleeping in the same bed as his wife wouldn't really help the ‘figuring things out on your own’ part.

“Okay,” he replies, pushing in his chair. His body moves out of habit and before he knows it, he finds himself standing next to Mary, almost ready to lean over and kiss her on the cheek like he usually does before heading off to work at the church in the mornings. Mary clearly looks uncomfortable, but nevertheless leans towards him and wraps her arms around him in a brief, yet awkward hug.

“Good night, Mary,” Joseph says, returning the embrace before pulling away.

“Good night, Joseph,” she replies, before turning to nudge her own chair back in with her foot, unwilling to put down the glasses and wine to empty her hands. “Take the rest of the pizza with you, otherwise it's going into the trash.”

Joseph does as she says, taking the last of the pizza with him as he leaves the house.

As he makes his way down the sidewalk, he takes one last look at the cul-de-sac for the night, anxiety, relief, sadness, guilt, and several other emotions he can't quite name at the moment churning in his chest in one huge mess that occupies his chest like a heavy stone. He catches glimpses of Mary and of Robert, each peeking out of their respective bedroom windows, and the storm of emotion in his chest calms down just the tiniest bit.

He turns away and lets out a long sigh.

He has three days to sort himself out.

It's hot in Indiana.

The summers in Los Angeles were hot, temperatures spiking to over 100°F on the worst of days — “Almost 38°C, Reinhardt.” “Unbelievable!” — but temperature-wise, it's surprisingly similar to Bloomington in terms of averages.

But the humidity, my god, the humidity… Gabriel could feel his breathing go a little shallower some days when the smog in LA was particularly bad, but the humidity of Bloomington — “We're not really in Bloomington, Gabe, it's just easier to say I'm from Bloomington for simplicity’s sake…” — made Gabriel feel like was outright suffocating on some of the worser days. And let’s not get started on the days when it rained...

“It's not so bad,” Jack laughed, patting Gabriel's head as if in an attempt to comfort him. Gabriel could only groan and turn over where he lay on the spacious deck of the Morrison family home, swatting Jack's hand away, as the sweat on Gabriel's scalp only made the touch all the more irritating.

“Speak for yourself,” Gabriel grumbled, tugging at the sweat-soaked collar of his shirt to fan himself.

“You can go back inside if you want,” Jack offered, “I know this isn’t the kind of heat you’re normally used to. Plus, I could probably finish digging the hole by myself.”

“Like hell I'm gonna bum around and be a freeloading guest, Jack. Your mom wanted this tree planted, and I promised I'd help her do it,” Gabriel grumbled back, letting go of his shirt and splaying his arm out once more. Sweat beaded on his face. It wasn't so much that the work made him tired, but the weather made him feel ridiculously sluggish.

“Well, you can't exactly do that laying sprawled out like a starfish on the porch, can you?” Jack teased, pulling off his cap and wiping his forehead with the back of his arm before putting it back on. Gabriel cracked open an eye to look at him and immediately regretted it.

Even in sweat-soaked farmer boy clothes, covered in dirt and grime  — “They're just overalls, Gabe, they're normal. And comfy!” — Gabriel couldn't  believe how much of a golden boy Jack looked. His blond hair was even more a mess than usual — thanks to the unflattering baseball cap — and dirt was smeared in patches on his cheeks, blending in with the almost ridiculous amount of freckles that showed up almost overnight on his sunburned complexion. The desire to pull Jack in and kiss those barely chapped lips until they were as red as those cheeks flared in Gabriel's chest for the briefest of moments before Gabriel waved it and Jack away.

“Yeah, yeah, give me a minute,” Gabriel groaned as he rolled over again and dragged himself up to his feet. He took a few steps towards the stairs before stopping in his tracks. Jack shot him an odd look, and Gabriel shook that off too. “On second thought, lemme take a piss first. I'll be back.”

Jack laughed and waved Gabriel off before picking up his shovel, and going back to the hole the two of them had been digging. Gabriel felt a little guilty, given how close they were to being finished, but his bladder really did need to be emptied, and he had every intention of helping Jack again once he was finished.

He pulled off his boots once he got inside, remembering how insistent Dana Morrison was about keeping her hardwood floors clean of dirt — not that Gabriel could blame her, the Reyes household had a similar policy in regards to shoes worn inside — and making sure to keep his shoes on the rubber mat by the door. It had only been a few days since he and Jack had arrived, and Gabriel had only ever been in the house once before, back in winter of last year, but everything was so familiar that it almost nostalgic to be in the Morrison House again.

It was a pretty big house, but even so, Gabriel knew the layout like the back of his hand, and wasted no time making his way to the nearest bathroom. His feet and bladder guided him like an autopilot, and without needing to actively focus on anything, Gabriel's mind began to wander. He couldn't help but reflect on his visit so far as he walked through the house, photos of Jack and his family lining nearly each and every wall, and thoughts he thought he had pushed aside during the flight into and drive from Indianapolis, slowly began to percolate back into the forefront of his mind.

When Jack had brought him here last winter, he claimed that he was bringing home Gabriel as a boyfriend to meet the rest of the Morrison family. It was news to Gabriel, of course, as Jack had sprung that little detail on him literally moments before Gabriel even walked through the front door for the first time, and Gabriel could only go along with it, doing what any best friend would do to help a buddy get his family off his back for being single still. And of course, let's not mention the fact that Jack had kissed Gabriel — rather intensely, mind you — just moments before dropping that boyfriend bomb on him.

And yet, despite all this, nothing between the both of them had changed after they boarded their flight home and passed out in the same bed the moment they got back to base. Jack went about his life as usual, as did Gabriel, acting as if the two weeks spent acting like a real couple with their hands in each other's back pockets nearly 24/7 for two weeks hadn't ever happened. As if they were still in the Best Friends territory. As if neither of them actually had any desire to escalate their relationship to a romantic one.

But Gabriel did. And he knew Jack did too.

The only issue was that neither of them wanted to admit that to each other.

Gabriel frowned, and cursed Jack for his cowardice.

But not before cursing his own, of course.

There had been so many chances for him to bring up the subject — this small vacation-slash-family-visit alone had enough that Gabriel couldn't even count them all — and each and every time, Gabriel had let them slip from his hands. Rather than making his idle, occasional daydreams —  of holding Jack in a long embrace, pulling Jack into a heartfelt kiss, or hell, just telling Jack how he really felt —  into a reality, Gabriel just let them stay what they were, thoughts and daydreams.

He flushed the toilet and washed his hands, still deep in thought as he splashed water on his face to wash away some of the gross feeling caking his skin. His eyes caught his own reflection as he wiped the water from his forehead. A scowl made its way onto his face as he got a good look at himself.

“Gabriel Reyes, what the hell are you doing…” he mumbled to himself, “Just fucking tell him already.”

He ran a hand down his face and sighed to himself, letting the water drip back into the sink. “What if it's not what he wants?”

He frowned at his own reflection. “What if it is? You won't find out unless you tell him.”

Gabriel bent down to splash at his face a few more times, only righting himself after he took a deep breath to calm himself.

“...I’m gonna tell him,” he said to himself, resolution all but burning in his eyes as he finished wiping the water from his face and left the bathroom.

He put his shoes on and felt his determination all but plummet when he walked outside and saw Jack sitting down on the front steps, hunched over so Gabriel could see the smattering of freckles that dotted the top of his spine and trailed lower into his shirt. An overwhelming feeling of wanting to press his mouth against that overheated skin left his heart fluttering a bit, pushing his previously bolstered confidence out the mental window.

“... Maybe later,” he thought to himself, picking up his shovel and going back to work, doing everything he could to distract himself from idle thoughts.

‘Later’ didn't come that day, nor the next, nor the day after that.

No, Gabriel spent the next four days constantly delaying himself for the most ridiculous and meaningless reasons, preferring to wallow in anxiety and self doubt until the perfect opportunity presented itself to him the night before their small vacation was scheduled to be over, like a spotlight aimed a silver platter with neon lights decorating the pedestal and spelling out the words TELL HIM in obnoxious, glowing magenta and teal letters.

The sun was setting on their second to last night in Indiana, and from the porch swing at the back of the house, Jack and Gabriel watched the sun slowly sink behind the horizon. Gabriel took a swig of his beer, blinking and making a noise of surprise when a flash of light on his knuckle caught his eye. He quickly swallowed the sip of booze, wiping his mouth with his free hand as he watched the flash of light return, blinking in and out slowly as it floated lazily around him.

Just as he reached out to try and grab it as gently as possible, his eyes caught a glimpse of another glow. Then another. And another.

“Whoa,” he breathed in awe, doing little more than watching the blinking, glowing balls of light flit about the porch and the back yard beyond it.

A quiet laugh rumbled from the other side of the swing, and Gabriel was about to turn and tell the laugh’s owner off when he saw how genuine the smile was on his face.

“You've honestly never seen a firefly?” Jack asked, holding up a hand as if cupping one of the fluttering, glowing bugs .

“Not in person, no,” Gabriel answered shrugging his shoulders at the same time. He reached out his hand in a similar manner, smiling to himself when a firefly landed in his palm briefly. “We don't have them in L.A., and most of the places I've been stationed in are the same way.”

“Oh?” Jack remarked curiously. Gabriel could feel Jack's eyes on him, and fought the urge to squirm beneath his gaze. Instead, he risked a glance at Jack himself, raising an eyebrow as Jack got off the swing and tucked his cell-phone into his pocket.

“Going somewhere?”

“Yeah,” Jack answered, smiling as a small gleam sparkled in his eyes not unlike the glow of the fireflies around them. “Come with me. I wanna show you something.”

Jack walked off before Gabriel even had a chance to answer, and what else could Gabriel do?

He peeked into the house from outside the bay window, motioning to one of Jack's brothers — was it Chris, Sam, or Braedon? Telling the triplets apart was always a puzzle he could never solve — that he and Jack were heading out, and quickly jogged off to follow Jack after the brother gave him a thumbs up from his seat on the sofa in acknowledgement.

Jack waited for Gabriel long enough for him to catch up, and they soon fell into stride with each other with Jack leading the way. They walked for quite a while in their usual, comfortable silence, walking dirt paths and through the woods nearby, until Jack finally stopped in his tracks near what Gabriel could see was a small creek.

“Watching fireflies from the porch is nice and comfy and all, but nothing beats this spot,” Jack said, taking a seat on one a rather sizeable flat rock. “Lot less light pollution and more importantly, no one around to ruin it.”

Gabriel's heart skipped a little at that, and he did his best not to read too much into it, lest his thoughts backfire on him. Instead, he let out a small noise of acknowledgement and replied, “Your brothers aren't that bad, Jack.”

Jack let out a small laugh, shaking his head, and patted the space beside him in lieu of a response. Gabriel could only go along with it, carefully sitting himself right beside Jack, with their shoulders barely inches away from each other, he situated himself. Gabriel tried not to focus too much on it, on the intimate proximity between the two of them, but the way Jack kept leaning into him, glancing at him as if sizing him up every now and them, made that nearly impossible to do.

Gabriel distracted himself as best he could, averting his own gaze to the sky to take in the last traces of the red, golden glow before it dipped behind the horizon. The slow appearance of the starry night sky did nothing to slow down the thoughts racing through his mind at a mile a minute, and Gabriel found himself focusing more and more on Jack's presence beside him rather than the spectacular view around him.

It was gorgeous — the kind of landscape you'd find only in movies and paintings — what with almost every star in the night sky visible above their heads and the gentle glow of countless fireflies blinking around them. And yet…

And yet…

Gabriel couldn't help the way his gaze gravitated towards Jack every so often, taking in the happy and relaxed contentment on his face, and finding himself wanting to see that on the pillow beside him every morning when he woke up. A warmth flared in his chest, and at that moment, Gabriel could tell his heart had made the decision of when he should speak for him.

He didn't even realize he was staring until Jack let out a laugh and nudged his shoulder with his own.

“Something on my face, buddy?”

Gabriel shook his head and took a deep breath, mustering as much courage as he could.

“Jack, can I talk to you about something?” he asked.

“Of course. What is it? Something wrong?” Jack sat up a little straighter, clearly on edge and concerned for what Gabriel might have to say.

“No, nothing's wrong,” he replied, shaking his head. He took a moment to gather his thoughts, trying not to let the worried expression on Jack's face fluster him into haphazardly expressing his feelings. “I just… Remember when we came here for Christmas last year?”

Jack nodded.

“And how you told me the truth about the ‘bringing my boyfriend to meet my family’ thing after I'd already suffered through two hours of dinner and dessert with your parents and your brothers?”

Jack hesitated for a moment before he nodded again. “Yeah…”

“And how you kissed me so many times in front of them before that? Once even before we got inside the house earlier that night?”

Jack visibly winced at that, his expression clouding over slightly. “Yeah,” he replied, the guilt in that one word so strong Gabriel could feel his own gut twist in sympathy.

“Well, I've been thinking since then —  a lot since then — about last Christmas… about us,” Gabriel said, pausing briefly and glancing over to make sure Jack was still looking at him. He wanted to make absolutely sure Jack was seeing him and listening to his words, so that he'd know just how serious Gabriel was when he said his next words. “...about how much I actually wished that were real. That it wasn't just pretend. That this...” He reached over to take Jack by the hand, running his thumb over the scarred knuckles, and waiting for Jack to pull away. When he didn't, Gabriel pulled the hand to his lips, and kissed it on the on the knuckle, before turning it over to press another kiss into the open palm. He interlaced his fingers with Jack's own right after, gripping it firmly before he finished. “That this relationship between us was something more than just friends… That you knew how much you mean to me and how much I… how much I love you, Jack.”

A heavy sigh escaped from Gabriel's lips, relief at his own confession washing over him like some sort of cleansing. Everything was up to Jack now; the ball was in his court. It didn't matter how Jack was going to answer; Gabriel did what he had been agonizing over for so long. He told Jack how he felt, and that was all that mattered. If Jack didn't return his feelings, then…

Actually, scratch that.

Jack's response did matter, immensely so, and Gabriel loosened his grip on Jack's hand in fear of Jack feeling just how much he was shaking in anticipation of an answer.

A deafening silence fell over the two of them, sounds of the running water from the creek ringing in Gabriel's ears like white noise. Minutes felt like an eternity, and Gabriel found himself almost wishing for Jack's outright rejection of him with each passing second, if only so the agonizing torture would come to some sort of merciful end.

His ears perked up when he heard Jack take a deep breath beside him.

Unconsciously, Gabriel did the same, bracing himself for what might come.

“...Do you seriously mean that?” Jack asked, the hesitation and wariness heard in his voice so thick Gabriel could almost feel himself choking on it.

His heart throbbed in his chest, and he nodded in reply. “Yeah, I do. I love you, Jack Morrison,” Gabriel breathed. He dared to make eye contact with Jack, gaze falling to the side when a firefly hovering between them seemed to glow in warning. He swallowed the lump in his throat, trying to control the racing of his heart at the realization that Jack looked as scared as he felt in that brief moment their eyes met.

Another eternity of silence fell between them, and Gabriel could feel his heart both stopping and racing at the same time, palms sweating like a nervous schoolboy.

He nearly yelped when he felt Jack's hand tense around his, holding it so tightly that Gabriel could swear he heard some of his knuckles popping.

“Ow, Jack! What the-” he began to shout, voice cutting out completely when he was forcibly tugged by the arm.

He fell silent when he felt warm lips press against his, body frozen and unwilling to move lest his actions be misinterpreted and the moment between them shattered. The warmth was familiar in all the best ways, and Gabriel felt his pulse skyrocketing and his heart soaring.

But still…

But still…

He didn’t dare get his hopes up until he got a solid answer.

After a few moments, Jack began to pull away, and though Gabriel wanted to keep the moment going, wanted to keep kissing Jack and even hold him tight, Gabriel did the same. He sat back on the rock where he was before, making note of the fact that Jack still hadn’t let go of his hand even after the both of them righted themselves.

Gabriel looked at Jack expectantly, breath held in his throat in anticipation.

Jack smiled warmly, and simply replied, “I love you too, Gabriel Reyes.”

In that moment, Gabriel felt all the tension rush from his body in one giant wave, and he let out a huge sigh, body visibly deflating in that same moment.

“Oh, thank fucking god,” he said, clutching his chest with his free hand. He couldn’t help the rush of emotion overwhelming him, and nearly hysterical from relief, he began laughing.

Jack let him be for a few moments, unusually patient as he merely sat and watched as Gabriel laughed all his anxieties away, hand resolutely holding Gabriel’s own all the while.

When the laughter finally dwindled down, and Gabriel felt himself drifting back to solid ground emotionally, it was his turn to pull Jack towards him, open hand holding Jack by the cheek as he leaned in to return Jack’s favor. Their lips pressed together once more, eager and earnest as they met over and over again for heartfelt kiss after kiss.