Chapter 5
Problems, Perhaps Unrelated
Jack was in bad shape. He'd driven home the morning after waking up in Doug's bed and had gotten as far as the living room before collapsing into a heap on the floor and sobbing. The worst part was, he didn't even know why he felt like this. He should've been happy with the ways things had worked out with Doug; Doug wasn't angry, they were still friends. But something felt really wrong with the situation, and it upset him more than he could understand.
He knew that he couldn't face Doug, so he'd stopped going to the weekly card games. He'd hardly spoken two words to Doug since the incident, a situation which was made easier by the fact that Doug wasn't going out of his way to talk to Jack, either.
So he was really quite startled when, about a week and a half later, Doug called.
"Jack?" The voice on the phone was quavering and unsure; Jack barely recognized it.
"Doug? Doug, is that you?"
"I'm sorry," said Doug, his voice rough with emotion and difficult to understand. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be calling you. I know. But... But I... I broke up with Tom and I... I can't, Jack, I can't. No one else knows. You're the only one. There's no one- I can't- I know I have no right to call you, after how I've acted, but-"
"It's okay," said Jack, cutting him off. "I understand. Sit tight. I'll be right over."
He reached Doug's building in record time and practically flew out of the car. He pressed the button for Doug's apartment and the buzzer sounded immediately, letting him in.
Doug met Jack at the door when he arrived. He was already drunk.
Jack threw his jacket over a bench in the entryway and led Doug into the living room, sitting down with him on the couch where their previous fateful encounter had begun. Doug was visibly upset; it looked as though he'd been crying, though right now it seemed more like he was hyperventilating than anything else.
Jack placed his hands on Doug's shoulders. "Doug, breathe," he said soothingly. "It's okay. It's okay. Just calm down. Take deep breaths."
Doug did as he was told, inhaling with deep, shuddering gasp. There was a beer bottle in his hand, and Jack noticed nearly a dozen others on the coffee table. He shook his head before turning his attention back to Doug.
"You wanna talk about it?" he asked.
Doug nodded, his head lowered. He leaned forward a few inches until the top of his head rested lightly against Jack's chest. Telling himself sternly that it was for comfort purposes only - ONLY, Jack lifted his hands to cradle either side of Doug's head.
"He met someone else," said Doug, his speech soft and slightly slurred. "'R, well, not met, I guess. Re-met. 'R something. I dunno. Some childhood friend or something like that. Makes sense, I guess. I mean, he's closer to Tom's age, an' everything." Doug paused and sighed. "I think I lost to a Dawson."
Jack winced. "Ouch. Well, there's no winning against a Dawson. I'm so sorry, Doug."
Doug nodded again and said nothing for a moment, then suddenly burst out, "But what about me, huh? Why not me? Am I just so easy to just- just- throw away! I'm sure I'm jus' as good as- as- what's-his-name."
Jack smiled slightly and ran one of his hands through Doug's hair. "I'm sure you are," he said.
Doug leaned forward more, turning his body a bit to the side, until he was practically curled up against Jack's chest. It was only natural for Jack to sling an arm around his waist. Doug was nodding a bit more vehemently now. "'S not fair," he said matter-of-factly. "'S just not fair."
"Doug," said Jack, absently stroking Doug's hair with one hand, "you are a wonderful person. Anyone would be lucky to have you, okay? Don't trouble yourself too much about some whiny little kid. You'll find someone else. Don't worry."
He looked down at Doug to find that the sheriff was staring at him. Unaccountably, Jack felt his face grow warm.
A second later, Doug reached up and drew Jack's head down for a kiss.
For one guilty second, Jack allowed it, savoring the sensation. Even drunk, Doug was a remarkably adept kisser. But then, regretfully, Jack pulled away.
"No Doug," he said firmly. "This isn't going to happen again. You're my friend, and you're drunk. You think you want this now, but you don't really. If I let you do this, you'll regret it tomorrow. It's late anyway, you should really be getting to bed." Gently, he disentangled himself from Doug's embrace.
"But..." said Doug pitifully, "Please? I don't- I don't wanna be alone."
Jack sighed. "Look, how about I sleep on your couch tonight, huh? That way I'll be here if you need me."
Doug nodded and Jack led him wordlessly into the bedroom, where he helped Doug change and get into bed. "There," said Jack softly once Doug was snugly under the blankets. He kissed him softly on the forehead. "Goodnight," he said, and flipped off the light.
Grabbing a blanket from the hall closet, he went to sleep on the couch.