By Smitty
Sand opened his eyes to the light of the sun casting through his blinds. He rolled over in alarm and saw his clock indicating that it was past nine-thirty.
Nine-thirty and he was still in bed.
Nine-thirty and--he glanced to his right and drew in a slow breath--Jack was still asleep on the other side of the bed. The reality of the situation hit him, stripped of the hazy fog of sleep.
The sheets were stuck to his stomach. The cup Jack had brought his water in still sat on the night table. The mattress was warm beneath him. His body ached slightly from the atypical--for him--exertions of the night before.
He reached up and ran his hand shakily over his face, feeling the shadow of morning whiskers against his palm. Memories flooded back from the night before and Sand tried desperately to keep them at bay until he was ready to handle them. But, like his precognitive dreams, he couldn't shut the vivid memories out and he found himself sitting up in bed to prevent himself from hyperventilating.
"Mm, hey." Jack rolled out of his sleeping sprawl and sat up next to him. He leaned forward and kissed Sand on the mouth before Sand could make a decision one way or another.
Jack tasted like stale beer and cigarette smoke and sticky morning breath. It wasn't that he tasted bad, exactly, but Sand wasn't ready to have another mouth on his yet; wasn't ready to deal with a morning after.
Jack pulled back suddenly, frowning a little at Sand and sighed shortly. "Ok." He got out of bed and stood there for a moment, naked, then ran his hand through his hair.
Sand felt like he'd done something wrong, but for the life of him, he didn't know what. Wait. He should have kissed Jack back. Maybe he should have kissed Jack first. Maybe this wasn't a one-night stand. Maybe Jack thought--oh, who ever knew what Jack thought?
"I've never done this before," he said aloud.
Jack stopped looking around the room and looked straight at him, then dropped his hand to his side. "I know." He sighed and walked over to the window. He rested his forearm on the window frame and leaned his forehead against it. "I should have said something before."
"You weren't the only one--" Sand cut off, not sure how to finish. He'd kissed Jack back. Encouraged him. Told him not to stop. Dragged him upstairs.
"Look, I don't--I can't--I'm not free. I can't be--this can't be--"
"I know," Sand interrupted, to stop Jack's painful ramble. He didn't want to hear it any more than Jack wanted to say it. "It's cool," he said, unconsciously copying Jack's speech patterns. "It was mutual."
"Was it ever." Jack cracked a faint grin and Sand felt better to have lightened the atmosphere even though he felt a blush rising to his cheeks as he remembered arching and crying out under Jack's mouth and hands. "And don't think I'm against doing it again sometime. But. There are things. Commitments. Stuff."
"Yeah, I understand," Sand found himself saying, although he wasn't sure he did understand. He understood that this meant no commitments, no "dates", and no I-love-yous, but he knew that he couldn't do commitments, dates, or I-love-yous either, and especially not the I-love-yous. "You've got Opal and...stuff."
"Yeah, I'm not around here much and--"
"I'm busy here, not much time for--"
"Yeah, exactly." The room was quiet for a moment, Jack standing naked by the window and Sand sitting up in bed with the sheets over his lap and his elbows resting on his knees. Then, Jack lifted his head and grinned. "But hey, if we're both around, what's to stop us from blowing off a little steam?"
Sand faltered and felt the smile on his face, already faint, become stiff. His mind raced with conflicting intentions and internal advice. Wesley would probably tell him that sex wasn't worth it without love and that trying to pretend otherwise was hollow. Doc's voice made him ache with longing. No matter what happened behind closed doors, Jack wasn't his lover, not in the heartfelt sense of the word, but maybe it would be good enough to stave off the loneliness. He wondered if that would take him somewhere he didn't want to go; if he'd be able to keep up the pretense of casualness that Jack seemed to wear all the time. And then there was a voice that sounded suspiciously like Dinah's which reminded him how hot Jack was and how good it had felt to touch and be touched and that no matter what, it wasn't a bad thing to want that.
Thank you Superego, Ego, and Id, he grumped, realizing that he still hadn't answered Jack and was no closer to a response than when all those voices had started talking.
"Sand?"
"Yes. Yeah. Good." Sand nodded, not really sure what was coming out of his mouth. He blinked a couple of times, wondering if he knew what he was doing, and then met Jack's eyes. "Exactly. Sounds good."
Jack studied him for a moment, which was a little disconcerting what with Jack being naked and all, and then shrugged and grinned. "Ok then," he said, satisfied with Sand's answer. "Fuckbuddies it is." He glanced at the clock and took a couple of steps toward the bed. "I hate to go now," he said apologetically, "but it's getting late and I told the babysitter I'd be home by noon--that's when her shift starts, so..."
"Yeah, I understand," Sand said, thinking frantically. *Babysitter? Jack needs a...oh. Right.* He'd heard Jack had a baby, a boy he thought, and the mother was the new Mist. It was one of those superhero gossip tidbits that played like Telephone--the way it really happened was usually far from what the current story was, so Sand had pretty well discounted it at the time. And he'd never thought to ask Jack about it. He'd never even asked the kid's name.
Jack might as well be a perfect stranger.
Sand blinked and looked up at Jack, who had stepped into the pile of clothes he'd shucked late the night before and was zipping up his jeans.
I can't do this, he wanted to say as Jack pulled his t-shirt over his head.
I don't even know you, he wanted to say as Jack hopped around, putting on his shoes.
I'm scared, he wanted to say as Jack shrugged on his trademark leather jacket.
"Hey," Jack said, bouncing onto the bed next to Sand. "Last night was--what?"
"Huh?" Sand replied, not sure what Jack was asking.
"You looked like you were about to say something."
I can't do this.
I don't even know you.
I'm scared.
"What's his name?" Sand blurted out, hoping belatedly that the grapevine had at least gotten the gender of Jack's child correct. "The baby. I never heard."
Jack's face split into a grin, a genuine grin, one that lit up his entire face. "Teddy. Nash, that's his mother, she named him Kyle Theo after both his grandfathers. She called him Kyle, but there's just too much history there for me so I call him Teddy, for my dad, y'know? You want to see a picture?"
"Sure," Sand replied, feeling a genuine smile answer Jack's own.
Jack shifted enough to pull his wallet out of his back pocket and leaned closer to Sand as he flipped it open.
"I don't have too many pictures," he confessed, pulling out an accordion. "He's only been living with me for about a month."
The accordion was new, Sand could tell, the creases still stiff and the corners unbent. The surface of each envelope was smooth and matte, unmarred by fingerprints and dirt.
"This is him in the hospital," Jack explained, pointing to the first picture. "I found this in the stuff Nash left with her dad. See, he's got blue eyes, just like me."
"Jack, all newborn babies have blue eyes," Sand said, leaning closer to see if the hours-old Teddy showed any resemblance to Jack besides the unruly shock of black hair and the aforementioned blue eyes.
"They do?" Jack sounded quiet.
"Yeah." Sand looked up. "Why?" There was something wrong with what he just said, but he wasn't sure what.
"Nothing." Jack shook his head. "Just..." He shook his head. "When Nash told me about him. She wrote me a letter. And she said he had blue eyes. I guess that was how she was trying to prove to me that...y'know, he was mine."
"He still has blue eyes," Sand pointed out, pointing to a more recent picture of Jack holding his son. Teddy was wearing Jack's goggles on his head. "If they were going to be different, they would have changed by now."
"Really?" Jack asked, sounding relieved. "You think?"
"I don't know when they change," Sand had to admit, "but definitely by a year. I'm sure. He's a year or so, isn't he?"
"I think about fourteen or fifteen months," Jack said. "I haven't found his birth certificate but I know when he was y'know, conceived, and I remember when I got the letter from Nash." He trailed a finger over the picture of himself and Teddy. "I cried," he confessed in a whisper. "When I got the letter. Nash said she was going to teach him to hate me."
"I'm sorry," Sand said hollowly, unsure what would be an appropriate response.
"It's ok," Jack said, blinking in such a way that made Sand think he might be holding back tears. "Nash, well, she's dead and I'm raising Teddy now."
Sand reached out and closed his hand around Jack's far shoulder. He squeezed, familiar with this form of comfort.
Jack turned, his near shoulder brushing against Sand's forearm. He stared into Sand's eyes, then cuffed him around the neck and pulled him into a hard kiss.
When Jack's mouth touched his, Sand shut out the reservations of his inner voices and responded, opening his mouth under Jack's assault. He felt his cock hardening again under the sheet and fell back, dazed, when Jack pulled away.
"Fuck," Jack sighed. "I wish I could stay." He kissed Sand again, quickly. "Look, last night, it was really great being with you." He gave Sand's neck a squeeze, then stood up, folding his pictures back together. "Give me a call when the wacky comes knocking, ok?" He shoved his wallet back into his jeans pocket and glanced down at Sand. "Or if you need anything, ok?"
"Sure thing." Sand was vaguely certain that he should get up, but well, he was naked and it seemed sort of awkward. "You want me to walk you out?"
"Naw, no, it's ok. Stay here and grab some more sleep. I can get out ok."
"It's no problem," Sand started, but Jack was already at the door.
"Thanks," he said, hand on the doorknob. "For everything. I mean it." He gave Sand a wink and then he was gone.
Sand sighed and fell back on his pillow.
Thanks a lot, he told the Dinah-voice in his head, not with a little sarcasm. He lifted the covers and directed a glare at the erection there. He considered heading to the bathroom to take care of it when there was a knock on his door. He frowned and pulled the blankets over his lap, hiding all evidence of arousal. Maybe Jack had forgotten something, he thought, or maybe his sitter had called and told him to stay longer.
"Come in," he called.
The door opened and Dinah stuck her head in.
"Decent?" she asked.
"Would it make any difference if I wasn't?" he asked, suppressing a sigh. Not Jack after all.
Dinah grinned. "Not to me," she confirmed, coming in and closing the door behind her. "You ok?"
"Sure," Sand answered, still lying on his back with his knees bent. "Are you?"
"I saw Jack downstairs," she said, walking over to the bed and sitting down next to him.
Sand quirked an eyebrow at her. Jack hadn't been gone long enough to get downstairs, let alone talk to Dinah.
"He didn't say anything," she continued, ignoring his skeptical look. "But I had a feeling." She reached over and smoothed a stray cowlick down into the rest of Sand's curls. "Jack's a good guy," she continued. "But he can be sort of thoughtless sometimes and I wanted to make sure he didn't say or do anything that requires my beating him up."
"You're not my big sister," Sand told her with a smile meant to soften his words. "You don't have to go running around after me."
"I know." Dinah shrugged. "And I know I'm way overstepping my bounds."
"But when has that ever stopped you?" Sand asked, turning his head to look at her.
"Exactly." Dinah smiled. "Ok. Whatever happened, and I don't need to know, you look better this morning. Less like the world fell on top of you."
"I looked that bad?" Sand asked curiously.
"You were in more dire need of a blow job than any white man in history," Dinah quoted.
Sand chuckled and turned his gaze back to the ceiling. No wonder his Id was manifesting as Dinah's voice.
"Get out, Dinah," he said good-naturedly. "I need to get up and my generation was taught not to walk around naked in front of women."
"And thank goodness the rest of them remember that," Dinah stated positively, standing up. "I'm outta here." She crossed to the door and started to open it.
"Dinah?" Sand turned his head to look at her from his prone position once more.
"Yeah?" She closed the door again and waited with her hand on the knob.
"Thanks."
"You're welcome." She smiled and winked, much as Jack had, as she left.
Sand sighed contentedly and gazed at the ceiling in contemplation of the upcoming day.
He still had his reservations about the wisdom of his fling with Jack. Team dynamics, casual relationships, babies--it all jumbled together in the back of his head reminding him why he should classify the previous night's events as poor judgment.
And maybe tomorrow, he'd care.