Et in Oculis Dei Quod
"... for a king it's not possible... you cannot be what God made you - not if you mean to take my place."
"You know, sometimes I wonder if God isn't ignoring me."
"Why's that?"
"Why do you think?"
Going to Joseph is like going to confession - and that is ironic on a few too many levels. It's a true statement, though, even if it is the first time Jack's let it past his lips: only a couple of momentous 'signs' and that seems to be it for the Prince and The Lord, whilst his father maintains near-constant communication; and that's nothing to say of Samuels (his position notwithstanding). Perhaps it is a punishment. He is, after all, the worst kind of sinner, irredeemable to ninety-nine percent of the population, maybe more - it's a very small one percent who not only know what he is but still look at him as if he's human.
One of them sighs against his neck, fingertips stroking absently along the side of his ribs as he murmurs, "I'm sure He's not ignoring you. I mean, you're pretty hard to ignore."
"Am I now?"
"Yes, and I'm speaking from experience."
Jack refrains from rolling his eyes (never make a condescending gesture if it can't be seen - that's just wasteful). "Well in that case, I guess I am being punished," he mutters, as dark as the night.
The warmth shifts beside him, and Joseph fixes him with that half-worried, half-disapproving little frown that makes something inside Jack twist in an unappealing manner. "What for? This? U-us?"
His condescending gesture of choice this time is a brief rise and fall of the eyebrow. "It's a long list, actually, but yes, this is probably near the top."
Joseph's responding sigh is weary and long-suffering (which isn't right - he's not even thirty). "Jack, how many times -"
"Too many," he growls, sitting up and forcing him to move back. "We are not having this conversation again."
"There's nothing wrong -"
"Isn't there?" His anger's flaring up. "A Prince who'll never become king because he's too busy spilling his seed inside assholes to ever produce an heir and isn't even human to boot. No, I think you're right, Joseph - nothing wrong here at all."
It's unfortunate (as always) that Joseph bears the brunt of his anger. Jack knows - largely vicariously - that when angry, a creature such as himself is terrifying to behold, and his is a sharp fury, as lethal as his fangs, equal parts bite and bark if you're one of the unlucky ones. The only people who don't quake in the face of it are the King and Joseph, the former because he has God on his side and his own brand of anger, and the latter because… Well, there's the mystery. It's easier to say why he became what he is, regardless of how often Joseph (only Joseph, not any other soul) tries to convince him otherwise. Jack knows without looking that he wants to do so now.
"You're not being punished, Jack."
"I get off to the mental image of the hottest boy in my class aged fifteen, and not a week later I'm craving blood strongly enough to nearly kill my sister. Tell me that isn't the final word God ever deigned to exchange with me."
A warm arm slips over his shoulder, the firm press of a chin adorning the other. "God forgives," Joseph murmurs. "And I know that because He lets us have this."
The new angle of reasoning is powerful: it renders Jack speechless, smooths over his self-loathing and leaves a tender mourning in its wake. He doesn't turn to look, just lifts his hand up to Joseph's neck, where two small, symmetrical scars reside at the base of his throat, low enough to be hidden by shirts. A love-bite (pun fully and viciously intended). "Did you know that almost everyone I touch is surprised by how cold I am? Even my parents? My uncle?"
"I was at first." Which burns more: the honesty or the hand that moves to cover his?
Jack shudders, exhales, forces out the words. "What if this is His way of punishing us both?" What if he's dragged Joseph onto his private, one-way journey to Hell?
There's a smile in Joseph's response, against all sensibility; "I told you, God is forgiving. He wouldn't use this as a punishment."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Because that's what faith is."
Ah, yes, faith - seen before in his father and sister, heard previously in Reverend Samuels' baritone sermons, but never quite felt in person. Jack doesn't expect to feel it either (his kind shouldn't - can't, according to many). If he has to have faith in anything… Joseph, he supposes. Especially when he stays good and pure and caring, despite the fact that all Jack gives him is a life of secrecy and hiding and blood-tainted sex and - and he's becoming far too maudlin for his liking. That's a sign if ever there was one.
"I have to go."
"Do you?"
"Yes." He slides out from the warmth (he doesn't miss it - why should he when there's still blood in his belly?) and picks up his clothes.
"You'll come again?"
"I think so."
"At night?" Condescending gesture number three: tip your head back, roll it in the direction of whoever you're being condescending to, and put on an expression that, if it were a word, says "Really?" drowning in sarcasm. "I'm just making sure! Wouldn't want to keep you waiting by spending more time at the theatre. I hear it doesn't do to test royalty's patience."
"Whatever gave you that idea?" The banter gives him enough strength to form a smirk, then he's shrugging on his jacket and stepping back into the 'real' world, where he is not Jack the monster who taints Joseph's soul, but Prince Jack Benjamin, the King's only son and soldier to him, his nation, and God - and if God truly thinks it acceptable to ignore him, to dismiss him into obscurity, then Jack resolves to do something He can't possibly not acknowledge.
(One year later, as his uncle scurries away from Silas' impending wrath, Jack recognises God's final sign.)
AN: What was I thinking? I don't know. I just read a few vampire!Bucky fics and somehow projected onto Jack Benjamin... Title should, if Google Translate can be remotely trusted, mean: 'In the Eyes of God'.
Jack/Joseph forever :P