You & Me & a Dog Named Flea Chapter 8 [Mist and Smoke
Disclaimer : Annie Prouxl owns the timeless characters in BBM. I'm writing from love and making no profit.
Summary : Altinate Universe Fiction of Ennis and Jack (from Brokeback Mountain) set in San Francisco ; Jack Twist had a chance encounter with a veterinarian one day, didn't know the shy vet, and his black and white terrier, would have a permanent place in his heart.
My Deepest Thanks always to Judy, my ultimate beta!
Feedback : means the world to me:)

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Chapter 8 "Mist and Smoke"

"Sorry, I don't have a pizza. Will chicken soup do?"

That phrase echoed in Jack's head over and over again and, like a puppet being controlled by an unseen string, Jack nodded dumbly, his eyes following Ennis to his tiny kitchen corner, watching him put the bag on the table and snatch open the curtain, letting more rays of light into the dim apartment through the full-length window.

Ennis in the sunlight looked so surreal, like the mist that would disappear soon.

That made him think of what Grant used to say about mist and smoke, the similarity and the difference. How both of them could be seen as exactly the same thing from far away, but felt different when you were surrounded by them. Mist was cool and comforting, but smoke squeezed tears from your eyes.

Jack suddenly wondered what Ennis was to him, mist or smoke. Should he back out before he got hurt?

Flea had found his favorite spot at the end of his bed and lay there, chewing one corner of the quilt peacefully, after greeting Jack with enthusiasm and leaving long scratches on his arm. Jack played with the dog's soft hair and looked up to meet Ennis's brown eyes. Ennis took in Jack's messy bed-hair that pointed up at odd angles, his red nose and hooded pale blue eyes and he frowned, "You look like shit."

Laughing, Jack combed his hair with his fingers, "Well, what do you expect? I'm a sick man."

"May I?" Ennis gestured to the kitchenware, which Jack didn't have much of, and Jack nodded again, didn't know what else to do. When Ennis just showed up in his room, how the heck was he supposed to think about anything else?

Ennis, in his kitchen, warming a bowl of soup for him…God damn, who would think this would be possible. Jack kept his eyes on Ennis, not really Ennis, but Ennis's back. He didn't realize how much time had passed until the welcoming smell of chicken soup touched his nose. Jack totally forgot he was sick. His mind traveled back to the last time he had eaten homemade soup. It was on last Thanksgiving maybe, that Mrs. Page, his kind neighbor, brought him some tomato soup that she claimed was her original recipe.

Homemade? Jack wasn't sure if Ennis's soup was homemade or it was the canned soup. But he didn't mind, the most important thing was…Ennis was here. But he had to admit that the smell roused his appetite. He'd hardly eaten anything since last night 'cause it hurt to swallow every time he tried to eat. Now his stomach rumbled, ready for some action.

Jack admired Ennis some more, loving what he saw; broad shoulders and back, narrow hips, long legs. His solid, lean frame glowed in the sunlight, the sight almost made him blind. Jack inhaled shakily and froze, then exhaled in a series of chest-bending coughs. Shit, the headache came back now, as well as the muscle pain and the sore throat. Oh God, Jack lay back on the bed, he hated getting sick like this.

"You seen a doctor?" Ennis asked, clearing some papers off the small round table and putting the bowl there. Jack squinted one eye open, taking in the steam from the soup filling the cold, dim room, making it more like home.

"Nah…" He tried to sit up, "I'll be alright."

"Can you…?"

"Yeah, thanks." Jack slowly got up and walked to the table. Flea stopped his chewing and jumped down from the bed, following Jack like a shadow. "Wow, it looks good."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Jack nodded, stirred the soup with the spoon. Ennis's soup was colorful with the yellow of potatoes, the green of beans and the orange of carrots and it smelled like heaven. "What's this? Minestrone?"

"Kinda, with chicken."

"I don't see any chicken."

"It's in there…" Ennis shrugged, "…somewhere."

Jack chuckled, tasted the first spoonful and moaned quietly in appreciation. This soup tasted even better than he had imagined. "This is really good. Where's it from?"

"That small diner near the clinic. They got the best soup. I wish I had their recipe." Ennis dragged the other chair from near the window to sit across from Jack.

"You cook?"

"Since I was thirteen. But nothing fancy."

"No, shit." Jack stared at him with a disbelieving expression. Ennis just leant back on the chair, smiled a little.

"Learnt that from my sister. She and K.E. worked late every night. Had to take turns cooking.

"K.E.? Your brother?"

"Um…"

"I can't cook shit. Open cans, yes, but cook?" Jack shook his head, "Guess I'd set the kitchen on fire."

Ennis relaxed more into the chair as he took the opportunity when Jack was concentrating on the soup to look around the room, his feet playing a little game of hide and seek with Flea.

Jack's apartment was small, the living room with a creamy comfortable-looking sofa with brown throw pillows greeted him when he first stepped into the room, along with the television that was maybe twice as big as his own. Divided roughly by a waist-height bookcase, Jack's bedroom area shared the space of the living area at the far end on the left side. The tiny kitchen counter and a white round table and two chairs owned the space on the right side which, from where they were sitting now, had a view of the green park from the full-length window at the far end of the kitchen.

"You got a nice place."

"Thanks. I love that I can see the park from here," Jack said, his voice still worryingly thick with illness, then wiped his mouth. He had finished with the soup and drank water from the bottle.

"God, my head hurts and I've taken about a dozen painkillers."

Ennis gasped, "That's not good. I think you should see a doctor."

"Maybe if I'm not getting better tomorrow, I will. Shit." Jack groaned as he walked back to his bed, alarm in his face as he saw for the first time since Ennis got here how untidy his apartment was, the small mountain of discarded tissue didn't count. "Sorry about the mess."

"It's ok."

Jack took in the state of Ennis as he welcomed Flea who jumped up on his lap. Ennis was leaning on the bookshelf, arms crossed, and he looked fine despite the weariness from working all night. "Are you saying you don't feel sick at all?"

"I had a headache and a runny nose but it was gone after a couple of painkillers and six hours of sleep."

"Guess that's the key then. I really couldn't sleep after…" Jack trailed off and cleared his throat instead when he realized that what he was about to say would open a can of worms. They went quiet and Ennis shifted his weight back and forth from one leg to the other, looking nervous. Despite the tension that had started to build around Jack and Ennis, Flea lay down in the middle of Jack's lap, resting his head on Jack's thigh, and sighed contently. Ennis chuckled,

"Now he's back to normal."

"What happened? He's sick, too?" Jack's brows knotted. "Does the virus go between humans and dogs, by the way?"

"Nope, he's fine. And no, the cold and influenza virus in human can't be transmitted to a dog. But he was weird yesterday. He barked at Alma and looked like he was gonna bite her."

Jack's brows knotted even more, if that was possible. Ennis and Alma? Together? Yesterday?

"You…and Alma…dating or something?" Jack asked in a small voice, couldn't help it. Ennis looked at his searching stare, "She baked me some cookies."

Jack laughed bitterly, throwing his hands in the air, "What are you suggesting? That it would make a difference if I baked you some damn cookies?" Ennis's eyes got wider at that and Jack had to put his head in his hands, whispering low, "Why are you here, Ennis?"

"I…You're sick."

"I'm not a dog, Ennis. You know you can't fix me."

Ennis was mock-stunned at that. The only sound in the room was Flea's whining. He must have sensed something wrong so he tried to scoot even closer to Jack, the only way he knew to comfort people. Sighing, Jack rubbed Flea's ears, pretended to fiddle with the quilt at the side of the bed, trying to look like he was going to take a rest. But then he stopped and locked eyes with Ennis.

"You know I spent almost two years in and out of therapy sessions? It wasn't easy to accept that I'm…like this. Two years, Ennis. It was a rocky road but I've traveled it and I'm not going back again. I'm not going to lie again." Jack took a deep breath. "I like you, Ennis. And if you're showing up here just to prove that me being gay is ok with you, then you have to know that at the same time you're giving me hope."

Ennis opened his mouth to speak but stopped. He didn't know what to say to that. They had both been acting like there was nothing going on between them since the minute he'd arrived here, talking about stuff and all. But it was hard not to notice now that Jack had told him how he really felt, Jack had asked if things would be different if he baked him some cookies. Would Ennis accept how he felt?

Ennis clutched tightly at the edge of the bookshelf. The same feeling he had felt when he got off the Ferris wheel on Friday night came back, his body was light as a feather. He had to hold on to something or else he thought he would float up and bump his head on the ceiling.

Ennis swallowed again and Jack coughed, leaning on the headboard with the quilt over his chest, looking fiercely at Ennis. But Ennis just shook his head, and paid attention to his black shoes as if they were something very interesting.

Jack shifted and let Flea crawl down from his lap to continue his chewing on the quilt. He planted his feet on the floor, Ennis was standing just an arm-length from him and Jack had to stop himself from reaching out and touching him.

Ennis responded to his movement by looking up, "I just don't understand…I…" He stammered, "I'm boring as hell. My ex divorced me in the first year of our marriage. I have no hobbies. I don't like parties…I… I look in the mirror and all I see is just this man in black and white. I don't get it…why would someone like…you…well…"

"Why not?" Jack was on his feet and in one long stride, he was standing in front of Ennis who tensed up visibly, what he wanted to say disappearing instantly at that minute.

Ennis's breath was quickening as they just stood there facing each other, not speaking. It seemed like hours. Jack's face was so close that he thought he saw his own reflection flickering on the surface of the crystal blue eyes, like that on the water.

"Not true," Jack tenderly caressed the sensitive skin under Ennis's eyelashes with his thumb, so soft as if he was afraid to break him. "I see gold…in here."

Ennis felt like he was standing on the edge of a cliff, and with the impact of something even as light as a gust of wind, he knew he would fall. His heart raced madly when Jack palmed his cheek, breath hissing as the warmth from that touch seeping into his skin, the warmth from a man's hand which somehow was sending butterflies in his stomach flying like dust whirling in the storm.

"Jack…" Ennis whispered as Jack touched along the freckles splattered on his cheekbone, mapping a trail of fire. Stumbling a step closer, Jack raised his free hand to clench on Ennis's shirt collar, clenched then unclenched as the hand palming Ennis's face moved, fingers crept up to tangle into the blond curls.

Their foreheads touched, warm ragged breaths mingled. Ennis seized Jack's wrist, his other hand clenching tightly on his sleeve, clinging to the last straw, clinging on the edge of the cliff, clinging on to Jack.

Their noses touched, trembling hard.

"Jesus, Ennis…" Jack's voice was broken, he was drowning in the wild river of desire but still trying to hang on to the rock. "You got to stop me."

"I…"

"This is what I've wanted, since the first time we met. I can't…I…"

Their lips brushed and they both gasped. Jack moaned painfully and impossibly, grinding his writhing body into Ennis, melting, burning. "Push me away…just…God…"

Ennis couldn't move a muscle, Jack's hot pants and violent, painful moans were boiling the blood in his veins and melting his senses. He was going to fall down and damnit he just froze there when his mind was shouting for him to push Jack away. But he couldn't.

With a desperate grunt, Jack crushed their lips together, swallowing whatever Ennis wanted to say into his mouth, hands clasping tightly on the back of Ennis's head, locking him right there. He sucked in Ennis's lower lip, poured all his feeling, the devastation, the hunger to touch, to feel, and to love this man into that kiss. Whining low, Jack nudged Ennis's lips, asking for entrance for his tongue, asking if there was even a small place for him in Ennis's heart, if Ennis could love him just a little bit?

Ennis grabbed the back of Jack's collar tightly like an anchor for this wild sailing. The world was shrinking down to just Jack's hot mouth on his, the way he smashed their lips and noses together until there was no room to breathe. Just when he thought he was going to faint from the lack of air, Jack pulled out but only to kiss him again from a different angle. Ennis moaned and gasped for air as Jack's aggressive tongue pushed in. And that was like a kick in his gut.

Gathering strength in his limp, uncontrollably shaking body, Ennis yanked Jack off by his collar. Their lips parted and Jack's weak legs gave way almost instantly. Cursing, Ennis enveloped the boneless Jack, panic gripping him when he felt Jack's hot body burning in his arms. "Shit, you're burning up!"

"Now that you mention it, I think I need a doctor…"

"Jesus." Ennis half-dragged Jack to his bed, dumped the quilt on him and snatched his cell. God, what do I do now? Ennis looked through his cell roughly, he only had the numbers of a few vets and a shrink. But he needed a doctor. He groped for the yellow pages instead and called the first name he found. The lady said her clinic was closed on Sunday, besides she was living out in Orange Country. Ennis called the next number but the boy said it was a Laundromat.

He heard Jack groan and saw him bury his face in the pillow so he threw the yellow pages away and called Information. The woman gave him the number of On Call, a 24-hour emergency service with doctors who made house calls. The doctor just grunted at Jack's address and said she would be there in ten minutes.

Ennis wasn't really sure if Jack needed that thick quilt. He was burning up with fever, maybe he was better off without it.

"Jack," Ennis grabbed Jack's arm, trying to wrench away the quilt in which he was wrapped up like some kind of mummy. Jack complied and let Ennis peel the thick fabric off him, his liquid, heavy-lidded eyes on Ennis.

"Ennis," Jack whispered, "do I scare you?"

"Don't talk right now. You're very sick."

"Do I?"

Sighing, Ennis finally managed to peel the quilt off Jack's upper body. "No."

"Did I screw up? Did we screw up?"

"Just rest, ok? You're burning up. The doctor will be here in ten minutes."

"You know what, you can't stop me. I will talk 'til the end of the world, even God can't stop me. Hell, I'm delirious. Yes, I'm fucking delirious. So I can say everything I damn well want to. You hate me? That I'm gay?" Jack asked and coughed, his whole body shaking. "You dating Alma? Shit, you're dating her, right? Tell me you…" He coughed again, harder.

"Jesus, now you're scaring me. Stop talking, you'll spill your guts out coughing."

"Just fucking tell me."

Shaking his head, Ennis bent closer, "No, we're fine. No, I don't hate you. No, I'm not dating Alma. And no, you're not delirious. Now stop talking. You have some towels?"

Jack pointed to the bathroom and Ennis found a washcloth in a cabinet, put some ice and water into a bowl and the next thing he knew he was wiping Jack's face under the close observation of Flea, who scooted closer to rest his head on Ennis's thigh. "This should help."

Ennis had never taken care of a sick person before, sick dogs, yeah, but not human beings and his ex-wife was never sick. His brows knotted involuntarily in concentration as he moved the towel down on Jack's neck, felt Jack's breath hot on his hand. Jack's small sigh escaped his parted lips. "Ennis?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you…" He paused, then shook his head. "Nothing…"

Though he wasn't familiar with taking care of sick people, Ennis remembered what being sick felt like. He'd had severe tonsillitis once during his college days when he was living alone in the dorm. It was freaking torture. He'd missed Carol's pampering the way he never had before and he remembered crying like a baby simply because he had dropped a pill into the sink.

"I'm here," he whispered, palming the wet cloth on Jack's cheek, the only thing that separated their skins. "And Flea is here, too. Wait for the doctor, ok?"

Jack nodded slowly, his body sagged deeper into the bed.

The doctor kept her word and buzzed on Jack's buzzer ten minutes later. She was a plump woman with thick glasses in her 40s, maybe. As soon as Ennis opened the door, she walked straight to the bed with her big medicine bag.

"How long has he been sick?" she asked as she took Jack's temperature. Ennis opened his mouth to speak but she held up her hand to stop him. "His temperature is very high. 101.5."

Ennis cradled Flea and looked over her head to Jack on the bed, wincing when the doctor looked into Jack's open mouth, sticking something that looked like a piece of wood into it. "It's strep throat…" she said. "…plus a cold. He will need some antibiotics. The fever will be broken within 24 hours and he should be able to run up the hill in a few days."

She turned to dig into her medicine bag as Jack craned his neck to the side, groaning and looking pretty weak.

"He needs to drink lots of water." She looked at Ennis over her shoulder. "And this cool washcloth would help bring down the fever. And you need to change your T-shirt, young man. It's soaked."

Jack nodded and sat up. He was about to take off his damp-with-sweat T-shirt when he sneezed. Cursing, Jack snatched a tissue to wipe his nose. The doctor waited until he was done with that. But before she had the chance to say anything more, Ennis sneezed so hard Flea startled from his peaceful nap in his arms, barking like someone had intruded into his space.

Shit, he covered his nose with his sleeve, wide eyes met with the doctor's narrowed stare and Jack's surprised – and amused - blue eyes. Jack's face turned red when the doctor scrutinized him. She turned back to look at Ennis and he felt his own face burning under that I-know-what's-happening-here stare. The doctor gave him her small smile and patted at the nightstand where the bowl with cool water sat.

"Well," she looked between Jack and Ennis again and put some medicine on the nightstand, too, then turned to Ennis fully. "You can do this for him later then. Make sure he takes every pill according to the prescription. And take care of the fever with this cool towel."

"Ah…" Ennis opened his mouth and again was stopped by the doctor holding out her hand. "It's ok. I think it's cute you taking care of each other. I'll see him again in a week if you want me to, but I think he will be ok by then."

Ennis just nodded as he listened to the doctor, didn't dare to look at Jack, who seemed to lie back down on the bed. She packed her stuff and leant closer to him, smiling, "Oh, and make sure he is kept warm but change his clothes for him if they get soaked with sweat, too. Nothing you can't handle, I believe."

Great. Ennis quickly handled the payment and sent her out the door when the buzzer rang again. It was the pizza guy. He waltzed into the room, declared the type of the pizza he was handing over to Ennis as his naughty eyes sneaked a look around Jack's small room. He must have seen Jack lying on the bed, or if he hadn't seen him then he would have heard small whines coming from that direction anyway. To Ennis, it was a kind of whine that came out of discomfort. But who the hell knew what the pizza guy thought.

"Thank you, sir," he said cheerfully when Ennis handed him the money. "Enjoy your pizza. I'll lock the door on my way out!"

Just great. Ennis chewed the inside of his cheek as the door banged shut. He walked back to Jack's bed where he was asleep, boneless as a jellyfish.

"Jack," he sat on the bed, shaking his shoulder. Flea jumped up, barking, too. "Come on. Don't fall asleep on me yet. You need to change that shirt, it's soaked."

"Umm…"

"Come on, Jack." Jack tried to open his eyes, took off his shirt and changed into the old white t-shirt Ennis had found in the closet. Ennis worked with difficulty, hindered by Jack's weight, limp arms and Flea's over-the-top curiosity. But he managed to change Jack into the dry shirt, made him take the medicine and buried him in the warmth of the quilt again.

Jack fell back to sleep as soon as Ennis let him be. But it sure wasn't the best sleep 'cause he was still burning up with a 101.5 degree fever. Flea also settled down quietly now at the end of the bed and for the first time Ennis had a chance to exhale with relief.

He looked at Jack's sleeping form and got up to add ice to the water. The clock struck ten and they would need lunch soon. He put the towel on Jack's forehead and just sat there at the edge of the bed for a moment before averting his attention to something else in the room.

Ennis saw a brochure with a picture of a snow-covered resort and a man in thick red winter clothes wearing silver goggles flying with scissors legs, his skis and poles pointing into the air in four different directions. He read the cover; welcome to Alpine Meadows, Lake Tahoe, CA. Um…Was Jack planning some ski trip?

Ennis put the brochure down and saw some more letters and postcards around the same place. One postcard was lying face down, presenting a woman's neat handwriting to him right there. It said, "Jack, honey, would you come home for Christmas? Love, mother." Ah, he was not the only one who'd been nagged to go home for Christmas.

He scanned Jack's room again. It was a typical place for a bachelor, nothing too fancy and unmistakably messy. Ennis smiled and kicked one of the magazines that was lying face down on the floor. There were no pictures of Jack with his family or friends and from the looks of the other stuff, like a bicycle resting near the door or a toothbrush he saw on the sink in the bathroom, it was pretty obvious Jack was living here alone.

Ennis looked down at the bed again, Jack was sleeping with Flea curled beside him, his breath even but a little rough. He had some difficulty breathing from the cold. His full lips parted slightly.

…Did he just think about full lips?

The room went quiet and the reality came back to Ennis like a rewind tape of an old movie. He was now seeing things in black and white.

Jack kissed him.

Jack kissed him and he let it happen.

They kissed.

He didn't really kiss back, but didn't push Jack away either. He could still feel Jack's tongue inside his mouth and that sent a shudder through his body. What happened to him? Was he gay?

Gay?

But I ain't into men. Ennis looked back at Jack's sleeping form, his hand aching to feel the softness of Jack's black hair. He fisted his hand, nails digging into his palm. It didn't hurt enough so he gave in to the urge. He wasn't into men but Jack's thick hair looked so soft he wanted to feel it through his fingers. Jack who liked him.

Reaching out, Ennis let the tips of his fingers create a journey along the curve of Jack's forehead, brushed a strand of hair away and gently combed Jack's hair up. It was as soft as he thought it would be. Ennis moved his fingers down Jack's thick eyebrow to his ear, drawing an invisible line down to his jaw. He wasn't into men but Jack's stubbled jaw tickled his finger tips, tempting him to feel more of it.

Jack sighed, turned his head in Ennis's direction, long lashes fluttering, and he was still again, resting deeply in dreamland, exposing his smooth, sweat-glistening neck. Ennis's fingers followed the outline of the bone under Jack's skin down, down onto his collarbone. Then, without really thinking about anything, Ennis felt his upper body being bent down as some unnamed force pulled him in. He didn't need a guru like Newton to tell him about gravitation theory 'cause as naturally as a ripe apple falling from the tree, Ennis moved closer to Jack and brushed the lightest kiss on his neck. He wasn't into men but Jack's skin under his lips felt fine. Jack who saw 'gold' in him.

Ennis looked at Jack closely again, rubbing the knuckle of his finger on Jack's parted lips, the simplest gesture that wasn't near earth-shattering. But Ennis knew he had crossed the line.

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Jack remembered he was woken up to eat something that tasted like pickle then he was told to drink lots of water and to swallow some pills. He heard himself groaning and coughing before he fell back to sleep again. It felt like eternity that he drifted in and out, seeing stuff under his eyelids but not being sure if it was real or if he was just dreaming. He saw Ennis. He remembered cuddling Flea before the dog wrenched himself out of his arms to play with the quilt. Then he saw his mama, cooking something at the stove and turning to smile at him, her eyes sad. She wanted him to go home for Christmas, but he didn't want to. He wanted to see her, eat her cherry cake, but the image of his old man, who forever sat at the table like some kind of wax man in some dark, quiet-as-a-graveyard museum, drove the thought away.

Christmas was supposed to be a happy time. Why being miserable in the middle of nowhere? Besides, he had other plans, a ski trip with Brent.

Brent. Shit.

The thought stirred him and Jack restlessly turned on his back, breathed in the smell of pizza and popped his eyes open. Ah, his nose was still working alright after all. The room was in a blur and he had difficulty making things out. There was a man sitting on the chair near his bed and he was eating a piece of pizza.

Jack rubbed his eyes, his head still hurt but the fever had gone down. He smiled lazily, "Ennis?"

"Don't get up too fast, Jacky. How're you doing?"

No, it wasn't Ennis, Ennis never called him Jacky. Jack looked up at the hand that was pressed on his forehead and back at the owner of that hand. Grant was leaning in, his face serious. "Better. Now come eat something."

Jack simply nodded, "I need to pee."

"Go on. Watch your step."

He let Grant help him to stand up and he took the opportunity to look around. There was no sign of Ennis and Flea. Had he been dreaming? Had it been Grant here all along? A quick glance Grant's way and Jack encountered one of Grant's knowing smiles. "He left 20 minutes ago. Said he had to run, he's got the night shift in a few hours."

So he wasn't dreaming. Jack let out a small smile as he eased himself into the bathroom, relief washed over him like rain.

So Ennis really was here.

Jack ended up washing his face and neck and rinsing his hands, too, and felt a lot more human as he stepped out to Grant, who had poured some more soup into the bowl for him. Seeing it was four in the afternoon, he guessed this would be his dinner. It was corn soup, his favorite instant soup from Campbell which Grant might find in the cabinet.

"Got you some cornbread, too. Here."

"Thanks, I feel like a pig with everybody coming to feed me." Jack took a bite. It was good despite the pain in his throat that was still there when swallowing. "Um. It's good."

"How are you gonna go to work tomorrow?" Grant asked, taking a bite of the pizza in his hand. Jack looked down wondering if this was the pizza he had ordered.

"Guess I will be fine come tomorrow."

"Good then. So when did Dr. Del Mar here?"

Jack ate the soup and shrugged, "Around nine, I guess. God, I thought I'd been dreaming about him being here when I saw you."

"You guys talked?"

Jack shook his head. "I was busy being sick, Grant." Grant chuckled at that. "But yeah, we talked some."

He watched Jack eating in silence for a while, had to wonder what had happened here between the two men. Well, maybe nothing had happened much, like Jack said, he was sick.

"So you just…" Grant looked up, trying to find the right words to say. "…rolled around like a sick dog when Dr. Doolittle was here? Damn, you know I had to drag Pepe to the clinic to help stir Ennis up and you tell me you guys didn't even talk things out?"

Jack smiled sheepishly, blowing the steam from the hot soup. Then he stopped short when he remembered something else that had happened.

"Shit," Jack's eyes were wide like a deer in the spotlight, the spoon dropped from his hand. "Holy shit."

"What?"

Wide eyes turned to Grant, "I kissed him."

"You kissed him!?!"

"Fuck."

"Damn, Jack," Grant slumped on the chair, shaking his head in disbelief. "Just…damn. I don't know what to say."

"That my life is fucked up?"

Grant sighed, "Life sucks all over, boy. The deal is what you're gonna do with it."

Jack rubbed his face, "I don't know what the hell I'm doing anymore."

Grant observed the clueless Jack Twist, wanted to help but knew it was better to leave it to him. "Jack, I'd say listen to what your heart says. But you must remember every action has consequences."

"I hate consequences," Jack murmured into his palm, feeling all the headache and nausea back in him again.

"Nothing comes for free, boy."

Jack knew that perfectly well. When he decided to join the Velvet Club, his friends from college turned their backs on him. When he told his parents about being gay, his old man didn't speak to him ever again and dumped his stupid, selfish-accusation on his mom, leaving her miserable. And if he wanted to really be true to himself once again this time and went after Ennis, who knew what else he would lose, let alone the strong possibility of a broken heart.

He'd lost Brent, the man who had been nothing but good to him, for one thing.

And Alma would hate his guts, too. And God knew what the damage to Grant and Brent's friendship would be if things turned ugly.

Damn, the cons were outweighing the pros as bright as day.

But Jack had learnt long ago that waiting wouldn't bring the sky closer. And Ennis Del Mar meant so much to him that he was going to reach out no matter how hopeless it might seem.

You never knew if the haze around the corner was mist or smoke, unless you stepped in and felt it.

TBC