yassss i finished this, im so happy AAAAAAAAAAAAAA
Jack Jones thought he'd finally get some rest from work that night when he stepped into his run-down apartment.
He thought wrong.
The first thing he sees when he opens the door is the open window by the fire escape. His heart grows cold for a split-second, before he remembers that there's really only one person in the entire world who could open his fire escape window to sneak in.
"Spade? Are you here?" Jack calls out as he turns on the apartment lights.
No answer. He shrugs off his jacket as he walks, eyes looking for a familiar length of braided purple hair.
When he reaches the living room, that's when he sees it. Or rather, sees him.
Curled up on the couch and fast asleep, is none other than Spade himself in all of his piercings and tattoo glory.
Jack huffs in annoyance at first, mumbling something that sounds like 'you could've at least closed the window first', before he notices that Spade has blanketed himself with one of Jack's coats for work, fingers wrapped around the fabric tightly.
He blinks.
A warm feeling nestles itself deep within his chest. He can feel himself turning red already.
Jack sits cross-legged on the floor, resting his chin in his hand. To think that Spade would use his coat to keep himself warm… It's just too much. It's not often he gets to see Spade asleep like this after all, curled up and serene. It's cute—a nice change from the usual smirk or scowl or frown or menacing grin.
Jack reaches out his hand, fingers tracing the other's cheek gently, not wanting to wake him up. His thumb caresses the piercings above Spade's eyebrows and the man stirs, tilting his head into Jack's hand.
For a moment, Jack stills. The close call made his heartbeat rise, and it makes him realize he should really put his stuff away and change into his home clothes. He should let Spade have his sleep. Before he stands up, he leans in close to leave a soft kiss on Spade's forehead.
And that's when he feels the cold metal against his neck.
"You know, in some countries, that's considered sexual harassment, detective."
Jack chuckles nervously. The cold metal is still against his throat. "Sorry I woke you up…?"
Spade keeps the knife away, pushing himself off the couch and into a sitting position, the serene look he had on while asleep replaced by a frown. "I thought you don't usually come home on weeknights."
"I don't." Jack says, relieved he's no longer under the threat of being chopped into pieces. He sits beside the disgruntled Spade and wraps an arm around his shoulder. Honestly, the other man now looks like a mad cat instead of a punk. It's too cute. "But I just solved my case today, so I'm pretty sure I deserve a break and a sleep in an actual bed."
"Hm."
"Speaking of sleeping in actual beds, what's this all about?" Jack points at his coat that's now in Spade's lap. He gestures to the entire sofa too. "Do you always do this? Sneak into my apartment when I'm gone and sleep with my clothes?"
A brilliant blush spreads onto Spade's face, and he finally looks wide awake. "N-No! O-Of course I don't! It's just a onetime thing that's all!" He tries to push away Jack's hand that's around him and stand, but the detective simply pulls him to sit on his lap. A sound of protest escapes Spade's lips.
"I've still got my knife, y'know!"
"And I can arrest you if you use it on me." Jack grins mischievously. His arms are now around the other's torso, and he nuzzles his nose into Spade's long braid, inhaling the scent. Under that tough exterior, this guy sure loves his lavender shampoo.
Jack doesn't hear anything in reply from Spade.
He gets an elbow to the gut instead.
"GUH!" the man coughs out, clutching onto his stomach as Spade easily gets up. The long haired man crosses his arms as he glares down at Jack.
Jack kind of regrets teasing him, but also kind of doesn't.
"You sure don't hold back, huh…" he says with a chuckle. When he looks up, he sees that Spade's averted his gaze, lips in what appears to be a small pout…
His hear t clenches tight again.
"Alright, come here." Jack says with his arms wide open. "Something happened, huh?"
Spade turns a brilliant red and he doesn't make a move. Minutes go by as neither of them give in; Jack still with his arms spread apart, and Spade still frozen in place.
It's not too long before Spade does cave in and straddles Jack on the couch, arms wrapped around the detective in a tight embrace. He nuzzles his face into Jack's neck and relaxes, almost melting against the detective.
Jack hugs him back just as tight, relishing the warmth between them.
His hand pats Spade's back slowly. He says, "Do you want to talk about it…?"
Spade hugs him tighter.
Jack waits.
The minute hand on the clock ticks on, the time slipping in between their fingers. Jack doesn't say a word still, and neither does Spade. The long-haired man always takes his time when it comes to things like this. Jack doesn't mind.
It took the detective forever, a lot of flowers, an uncountable amount of coffee, and various types of novels to get the other to open up to him, let alone manage to get him to reciprocate his feelings. He can wait forevermore for whatever it is that's bothering Spade now. And whatever that problem is, he's going to try and fix it for sure.
He's called a miracle maker for a reason.
Jack hears Spade sigh and he braces himself. "Sorry, Jack… It's just. It's dumb." Spade says, still snuggled up against the detective.
"It's not dumb if you're upset about it."
"…"
"Well…?"
"…"
"…"
"…Fine."
Jack smiles softly at his small victory. Spade adjusts himself to sit properly, so he can face Jack without trouble.
Spade bites his lip, eyes averted. Jack expects him to say something; ready to take whatever it is that could rattle the always tough and cunning Spade. Not much in this world has the ability to do that, and Jack knows it by experience.
But then Spade… kisses his lips gently.
Jack blinks. That takes him by surprise. When it comes to kisses, it was always Jack who initiates it. From the start of their relationship, rarely has it been Spade.
His hands freeze in place, unsure exactly where to put them. He returns the kiss—slowly, carefully, afraid of scaring Spade away from this development.
After a while of the closed-mouth kiss, Spade pulls away and slides his arms around Jack's neck and hugs him tight.
A barely audible whisper, like the words struggle to come out of his mouth, reaches Jack's ears. "My parents…" Jack stiffens. "They're looking for me…" Spade finishes, and Jack can feel how deflated Spade is.
A silent moment later, Jack takes in a breath and asks, "After all this time?" he runs a hand up and down Spade's back, comforting the man. He can only imagine what Spade feels like at the moment, especially being someone coming from what one would call a picture perfect family.
Jack remembers the day Spade first opened up about being disowned. The expression Spade held in his face back then… it wasn't something that Jack would want Spade to wear ever again. So he tries hard to not let history repeat itself.
But if it happens once more tonight, then he has no choice but to just hold Spade like this until it goes away.
"Yeah…" Spade sounds like he's about to break. "I don't know what to do."
Jack gives him a tight squeeze, his arms going around Spade's entire frame. "You don't have to see them if you don't want to, you know?"
"I know… it's just…"
"A bit of a shock?"
A nod.
Jack pulls away and runs his hands down Spade's shoulders, his left hand brushing a bright purple rose and thorns tattoo that entwines the other's arm. Spade looks into his eyes and Jack can see how uncertain and confused he is about the entire ordeal.
"Whatever you decide to do, I've got your back, okay?" Jack says. He tucks a stray strand of hair behind Spade's ear and places a gentle kiss on his forehead. "I'm here for you."
Spade's face melts into one of relief and admiration, which makes Jack's heart do a triple flip. Spade kisses him again on the mouth and Jack can feel the other's smile against his lips. He smiles just as well into the kiss, holding Spade in his arms like a jewel.
Spade doesn't say anything, but the detective understands what he's trying to convey.
I love you, Jack.