Title: That Ship Has Sailed
Summary: "'You really love this ship,' Nolan thinks. 'And you must've really loved that little girl, the real Amanda. But she'll never let herself love you back. I can't see why.'"
Pairing: Nolan/Jack—has anyone come up with a good ship name for them yet? ;)
Music: Break—Three Days Grace, You Gave Me A Promise—Fireflight, Falling Inside The Black—Skillet
Disclaimer: Don't own Revenge! :)
A/N: Written by request of a friend of mine, Haagen-Das, a fellow Revenge fan ;)
Nolan closes his eyes against the salty spray of ocean water and smiles to himself as the Amanda glides over the waves. He has to congratulate himself (again) when he remembers who exactly is the owner of this beautiful boat, and whose brilliant idea it was to take her out for a spin today. It's right around noon, and the summer sun is definitely being generous today; the warm sunlight coating Nolan's face could not feel any better. Some part of him wishes he could reach down and let his fingers skim through the waves that the Amanda rides so smoothly, and he laughs to himself when he thinks of what Jack might do if Nolan just jumped off the deck of the boat into the tempting waves. Yell, probably. Or maybe even—
Hold up.
Nolan's head snaps around to face Jack, who's standing at the wheel of the Amanda and is gesturing one-handed to one of the many parts of the ship that Nolan has no knowledge about, using the other hand to steer the ship. His lips are moving, and Nolan suddenly realizes that he hasn't heard a word Jack's said since…well…
"Nolan, are you listening to me?"
Jack's brown eyes suddenly narrow in slight suspicion, and Nolan's heart thumps guiltily. He grins sheepishly at the younger man, hoping that even if he's in trouble he'll at least look sorry.
"Sure am," he replies, nodding and hoping it isn't too late to lie. "Completely. In fact, I think I've heard enough to steer Amanda on my own now—"
Nolan moves a little closer to the wheel of the ship, but Jack puts out a hand to stop him, keeping his other hand firmly on the sun-warmed wood.
"What's the last thing I said?"
Clearly Jack isn't letting him graduate yet.
Nolan huffs indignantly, but his lips quirk up into a smile. "You said, 'Nolan, are you listening to me?'"
Jack closes his eyes in exasperation, but he smiles and Nolan can't keep the grin off his own face.
"Fine," Jack relents. "But do you remember what I said before that?"
"Nope," Nolan admits, grinning at Jack. "Should I?"
"Yes," Jack snaps, his smile disappearing. "Nolan, we've been out here for almost an hour, and I've left Dec in charge of the bar when he wanted to see Charlotte so I could take you out here on your request. If you don't think my time's valuable enough, then—"
"Whoa, hold up, Skipper." Jack glares, and Nolan backtracks a little. "Sorry—I didn't mean to waste your time. I'm listening now. Really."
Nolan turns his body towards Jack, arms out in submission, and Jack relaxes. "All right. Fine," he says. "Here, why don't you help me steer. Should keep you more interested, and I can easily take over if you start to run us into something."
"What's there to run into in the middle of the ocean?" Nolan teases, standing up and stepping eagerly to Jack's side. Jack rolls his eyes, looking only slightly exasperated now, and Nolan decides that this is an improvement. He eagerly places his hands on the polished wood of the wheel, half-wanting to nudge Jack out of the way so he can do the steering himself and half-grateful for the younger man's solid presence beside him and the way he still keeps one hand on the wheel, ready to take over if need be (Let's face it, Nolan thinks, I have no idea what the hell I'm doing).
"Try turning her," Jack suggests, but the words are barely out of his mouth when Nolan's rough steering sends the boat tilting sideways. Jack yelps in surprise and lunges for the wheel; Nolan whips his hands off the wood like a child caught sticking his fingers in the cake and catches Jack's shoulder instead for support as his feet slide a little on the deck.
"Christ," Jack gasps, his knuckles turning white on the wheel as he regains control of the boat. "You really weren't listening, were you?"
"You have to ask?" Nolan says, grimacing. "Sorry."
Jack lets out a breath. "Okay. Why don't we try that again—carefully, this time?"
Nolan nods.
"Nolan, you can let go of me now."
"Whoops," Nolan says, removing his fingernails from Jack's shoulder. "Sorry, buddy."
"Don't worry about it. Now, take the wheel," Jack instructs, shifting over a little to let Nolan stand next to him. "Keep your grip light, but firm. Don't drag her through the turn, let her carry you."
"You should write a book," Nolan says, grinning sideways at Jack, who takes no notice of the words but all the notice in the world of everything else. Nolan can't help watching Jack, the way his brown eyes are narrowed in concentration as he gazes at the open water ahead, and the feel of his rough fingers correcting Nolan's grip on the wheel, and the way Jack stands so close behind him, practically sandwiching Nolan between his body and the wheel of the Amanda as though he figures if he can't be in charge of the ship he'll be as close as he can get.
You really love this ship, Nolan thinks, letting Jack move his hands. And you must've really loved that little girl, the real Amanda. But she'll never let herself love you back.
I can't see why.
Nolan chooses to ignore the fact that it's rude to stare and gazes at Jack's face, at his skin, slightly weathered and tan from spending time outside in the sun; at his hair, which has been a plaything of the wind for the past hour, making it resemble the waves that the Amanda rides; at the sparse beard around his mouth that Nolan can't help but wonder would be scratchy or soft if Jack were to—Oh god, am I really going to go there?—kiss him.
But best of all, Nolan decides, is that the sea breeze and the solid ship under their feet seem to make Jack become a different person. The man doling out bottles of beer and mixing customers' requested drinks—the man confined by duty to his deceased father and little brother—seems to have been left behind on solid land. The Jack Porter standing with Nolan now has a confidence to his well-practiced movements, a light of freedom in his dark eyes, and a hint of a smile on his lips.
It is this Jack Porter that Nolan realizes he is attracted to, and suddenly it doesn't matter to him if Jack still carries a torch for the little girl he met years ago, nor if that very girl (not so little anymore, and not nearly so innocent) finds out that Nolan's heart is beating a little faster at Jack's hands over his and kicks his ass for it.
The only question here, Nolan thinks over the throbbing of his heartbeat in his ears, is what exactly I decide to do about it.
Jack turns to him then, and Nolan immediately turns his head to face forward.
"Ready to try it?" he asks, adjusting Nolan's fingers again on the wheel before taking his own hands away. "Remember, gentle but firm."
"Gotcha," Nolan replies, gripping the wheel tightly. An idea strikes him, and he hesitates for a second, wondering if he dares to make himself look like such an idiot twice, but he decides it's worth it if he succeeds.
"Ready? Okay, here we—Nolan!" Jack shouts as Nolan throws the wheel hard to the right. The Amanda tilts dangerously, and Nolan lets go of the wheel just as Jack leaps for it, hoping maybe that Jack will try to catch hold of him if he falls, but all that happens is that Jack crashes into Nolan from behind and pins him against the hard wood of the wheel. Jack tries unceremoniously to shove Nolan out of the way, but Nolan, feeling himself begin to fall, instinctively grabs whatever's closest, that being Jack's arm, and falls to the deck with Jack on top of him.
Nolan's first thought is that if he'd been the one to design the deck of the Amanda, he would definitely have made it softer. Pillows would be nice, but anything other than wood and fiberglass would do really.
His second thought is that Jack seems to have fallen directly on top of him, and while the younger man isn't particularly heavy, their faces are uncomfortably close.
Jack goes red and makes to get up, but Nolan gives in to impulse: Closing his eyes to avoid seeing what will surely be shock and anger in those dark brown eyes, he quickly takes Jack's face between his hands and kisses him.
Jack's whole body tenses in alarm, but Nolan doesn't let go, and after a moment Jack relaxes and allows Nolan to kiss him. After taking his hands off Jack's face and ending the kiss, Nolan dares to open his eyes. He knows he should be feeling some kind of remorse, but all he can think is, Soft. Definitely soft, not scratchy.
"Sorry," he manages at last, looking directly up into Jack's eyes. "I had to do that."
"You—why?" Jack says, looking stunned.
"Why do you think?" Nolan whispers, not exactly sure why he is, only that it seems like the right thing to do.
"I just didn't think you…"
"Swung that way?"
"No…well, yeah, but…" Jack swallows. "I just didn't think you liked me like that, is all."
"Well, somebody's wrong then," Nolan replies, attempting a smile.
"Looks like it."
An awkward silence threatens to manifest, but Nolan cuts across it: "I'm sorry to put you on the spot like this."
"No, it's fine. Don't worry." Jack swallows again and looks down at Nolan. "And you know…it wasn't so bad earlier…when you were…"
"Steering the ship?" Nolan inquires, raising an eyebrow jokingly.
"No," Jack says, giving a short laugh. "That was pretty bad. I meant…"
Nolan's eyes widen in surprise and then close as Jack leans down towards him. This time it's Jack's kiss, and Nolan tries to answer all of the other man's unspoken questions while making no demands of his own. He can't resist lifting a hand and gently running his fingers through Jack's hair, thinking in the back of his mind (underneath the businesslike voice confirming that yes, he is kissing Jack Porter at this very moment, and yes, isn't it wonderful?) that this would be a much nicer moment if Jack's weight pressing Nolan down wasn't making the deck of the ship dig painfully into his back.
It's only a few moments, but it feels like it's been at least an hour before the two pairs of eyes, one dark brown and one bright blue, open and connect.
Jack's smiling a little, looking almost as happy as he does when he's steering the Amanda, and Nolan can feel a little thrill going through him when he remembers that he's the one making Jack look this happy. He smiles back, making an effort to ignore his aching shoulder blades, as Jack speaks.
"You know," he says, the slight smile still on his lips, "you might be hopeless at sailing, Nolan, but if I may say so, you're one hell of a good kisser."