#timojack

Jack huffs as he steps out of his office building, his hands shoved deep inside the pockets of his coat. His breath comes out as a cloud of fog, the December air biting at his quickly reddening cheeks. With his beanie pulled low over his ears and his chin pushed into his scarf, he sighs, checks the sidewalk and then starts walking in the direction of the subway. He grimaces at the sound the muddy snow makes underneath his feet, the slush grey and unappealing, a complete change from what he's used to back home in Michigan.

It's busy, the evening crowd of office workers heading home, tourists exploring the city, and homeless people asking for money making Jack's walk home an ordeal he could do without. Frowning, he looks past a man holding a cardboard sign and then sidesteps a group of people stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, clenching his teeth so hard he fears he's going to break a molar so he doesn't bark at them to get the fuck out of the way. The sound of cars honking, of people chatting and of sirens wailing in the distance are the soundtrack of his less than mediocre evening.

He didn't plan on ever working in New York, his apartment in Newport, New Jersey picked specifically so he could be close to his office there when he moved to the east coast. It hadn't taken very long until one of his supervisors asked him to relocate to their New York office, buttering him up and offering him a few very nice extras to take the job. The entire thing had made him suspicious, but the higher pay and the added bonuses had eventually convinced him to agree to a temporary relocation with the option to go back to working in New Jersey after six months. The longer he spent at the New York location, the more convinced he became to never agree to anything his supervisor suggested ever again.

Jack's not a genius in his field by any means, but he does know a thing or two, and the way the New York office is running their finances had made Jack seek out the nearest bar after his first day was over. It had been a nightmare ever since. Trying to teach the employees the ins and outs of sales analytics while performing CPR on the lifeless corpse of this location's accounting has taken more out of him than he ever thought possible. He's just glad that he made sure to be properly compensated before agreeing.

His doom spiral is interrupted by a commotion a little ahead, loud voices reaching him as he looks up to take in the scene. A man is slow to get up from the floor where he's evidently slipped and fallen into a pile of grey sludge, the people around him loudly arguing with each other about whatever caused the man to slip in the first place. None of them are actually offering to help the man up, too busy yelling and throwing insults at each other. Jack follows the movement of the man with his eyes, making sure he's alright — more to assuage his own conscience than anything else if he's being honest — before shaking his head and altering his course.

Keeping one eye on the street where cars are crawling along as traffic has slowed almost to a stop, and one on the group of people, he carefully walks over a pile of sludge on the sidewalk, grimacing when he has to step into a shallow puddle of melted snow. He's so busy trying not to get his white sneakers wet or dirty, he doesn't realise the argument has become physical until there's an elbow jamming into his back as one of the people is pushed back. Jack stumbles, his breath caught in his throat as he barely catches himself in time to not go careening into the street. His foot lands in sludge after all and he grimaces, internally resigning himself to cleaning his shoes when he gets home despite how late it's going to be.

He straightens, and for a second he breathes in relief that he's in no more danger of falling into the street. But when he straightens, his foot slips in the muddy wetness, his body twisting to try and prevent the inevitable. With his hands stuck in his pockets after pushing them all the way in, he's helpless to watch the sidewalk rush at him fast, his eyes squeezing shut at the last second as he waits for the impact.

Except, the impact never comes.

One second he's falling and the next there are strong arms wrapped around his waist, stopping him just in time. He blinks his eyes opening, his heart stopping for a moment when he sees how close he got to eating dirt on the sidewalk before starting to race in his chest. Yanking his hands out of his pockets, his lets himself get pulled up, the arms around him not letting go until he's standing firmly on both of his feet. Only when he takes a calming breath and moves to turn around does the hold on him ease.

He's got a thank you on the tip of his tongue, his mouth already forming the words, when he turns around and makes eye contact with the stranger who just saved him a trip to the ER. Instead of gratitude, what comes out of his mouth is something a little less sophisticated.

"Holy shit," he mutters, taking in the face of the man in front of him.

The first thing he notices are thick eyebrows above light eyes — blue or grey, Jack can't quite make out —, a strong nose, and a full beard surrounding pink lips quirked into an amused smile. It's the sight of this smile that makes Jack remember he's not supposed to stare at people like this, let alone those who prevented him from getting his skull crushed by the pavement.

He opens his mouth to apologise, then closes it again when the man in front of him speaks up.

"Are you okay?" He speaks with an accent, though it's vague enough that Jack can't place it. "That could have gotten ugly."

Jack blinks, his cheeks hot in embarrassment, before swallowing. "Uhm, yeah, no, I'm good. Thanks to you." He winces a little when his voice cracks. "So, uhh, thank you. For, you know, saving me from landing face first on the ground."

The man nods, then shrugs. "You're welcome. Wouldn't want such a pretty face to get all scratched up."

It takes a moment for the words to process, but when they do, Jack sputters, his cheeks blazing. "What are you- I don't- You-"

"Sorry, too much?" the man asks, scratching at the back of his neck.

"No!" Jack exclaims, not wanting the man to feel bad, before quickly adding, "You're- It's fine. I was just surprised."

Dropping his hand back to his side, the man smiles in relief. "I'm glad. I would have felt bad if I made you uncomfortable."

Jack quickly shakes his head. "Not uncomfortable at all, don't worry."

He looks around them, remembering what caused him to slip in the first place, and he's surprised to see that the knot of people has dissolved, only the man who fell and another man standing off to the side, glancing at them every once in a while while whispering to each other. Jack guesses they're the helpful stranger's friends, waiting for him to wrap up his conversation so that they can leave.

Clearing his throat, Jack looks back at the man in front of him, his hands finding their way back into his pockets. "Uhm, well, thanks again for saving me. I better get going. It's quite a trip back to New Jersey."

He moves to turn around, but a hand on his shoulder stops him. When he glances at it, the man looks sheepish before quickly pulling away.

"Sorry. I just-" The man rubs a hand over his chin, looking unsure for the first time. "I meant it, when I said you're pretty. And I guess I was just wondering if, I don't know, just- Can I give you my number?"

When Jack just stares at him, the man starts shuffling his feet awkwardly, clearly struggling to come out of this interaction with his dignity intact. As surprised as Jack is that this man, from just this short interaction, has decided he wants to get to know Jack, it's also incredibly validating. Since moving, Jack hasn't had any luck in the dating department, most of his acquaintanceship fizzling out after a date or two when he doesn't pull out after knowing someone for a sum total of less than a full work day. If this man ends up the same as everyone else, Jack at least has experience with that now.

"You don't have to of course. I totally understand that this is a little weird. And you're probably not even into men." The man is rambling now, all confidence gone in the face of Jack's silence.

Deciding to put the stranger out of his misery, Jack pulls out his phone, unlocks it and wordlessly holds it out, watching in amusement as the man's mouth shuts with an audible click of his teeth, his eyes flicking from Jack's face to the phone. Jack wonders if he made the right decision after all, about to change his mind and pocket his phone again, when the man snatches the phone out of his hand with a relieved smile.

"I'm Timo by the way," he says while putting in his contact details.

"Jack."

Timo glances up at him then. "It's nice to meet you, Jack." The way he says it makes Jack wonder if he really does only have one thing in mind. Looking at Timo, the broadness of his shoulders, the way he's almost a head taller than him, the way his hands dwarf the phone in his hands, Jack thinks that he wouldn't be too upset if the only thing he gets out of this is some mind-blowing sex.

"There you go," Timo interrupts his thoughts, handing over his phone. "Text me whenever. I'm looking forward to seeing you again."

Giving Jack his number must have refilled his confidence because Timo winks at him before turning around and walking back his friends, a swing in his steps. Jack's eyes are drawn to the swell of his ass, and he swallows.