AN: Thanks for the reviews! hmm and this fic is still happening, apparently! Please do review again if you can spare the time :)
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Improper
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The trouble with spontaneity was that it didn't pay much regard for consequence.
Cal shifted on the balls of his feet. He was light-headed, and everything seemed like a surreal dream.
This was a terrible consequence, and thus probably a huge mistake.
"Having second thoughts already?"
"No."
A lie of course, but Cal couldn't bear Jack being right again.
He pursed his lips and stared ahead, at the immense stretch of blue-green ocean.
Usually words would just flow from him, with a steady and reliable smoothness. Elegant conversation that had sealed his charming position amongst the other socialites, and had certainly helped guarantee Rose's hand. Now he was rendered temporarily mute.
His tongue had turned to clay and his throat was too dry.
"Won't someone be looking for you? That erm...that servant guy?"
"Valet," Cal said. "He's my valet."
Facts were manageable. He could answer to those sorts of things well enough, if only because there was no disputing them.
"Valet," Jack repeated the word experimentally. "So. Won't he be looking for you right now?"
"If he's doing his job correctly he won't be."
"Ah. Very discrete service, is he?"
Cal prickled, and finally turned his glare away from the sea.
He looked at Jack properly.
It was difficult, though. He'd not been able to look at him since walking out onto the damn decking.
"You think I do this sort of thing all the time, Dawson?"
Jack shrugged.
He was shading his eyes against the bright mid-morning sun, watching Cal with a cautious flash in his eyes. It wasn't suspicious or anything like that, though. More like he was trying to figure something out.
Cal didn't like it. It reminded him that Jack wasn't stupid at all.
"I don't know," Jack said. "Maybe? I don't really know you."
Cal grimaced. "You certainly don't."
He turned back to look at the sea.
It was strange, he didn't usually pay it much mind at all. Just a necessary expanse of water that they had to move through in order to get to the next destination.
Now, with the sun touching it's mirror-calm and sparkling surface, dots of gulls occasionally bobbing along, it was almost pretty.
"Rose will be wondering where you are," Jack said.
Cal gripped the rail, and wanted to laugh.
"You have a cruel sense of humour, Dawson."
"I'm not joking. She probably is."
Then Cal did laugh.
"If she is wondering, she certainly won't be looking for me, Dawson. So we needn't worry about that."
"I'm not worried," Jack said. "I told you to call me 'Jack', remember."
He leaned slightly over the rail, peering down into the sea with the carelessness of a child. It made Cal feel sick.
As if anyone could be so blasé, so reckless, about anything.
"I shouldn't be here," it was a dim realisation, made far too late. "I don't know why I am."
"Do you want to be here?"
"Obviously," Cal said immediately. "So obviously I've lost my damned mind."
"Because you're doing something you want to do?"
Cal snorted, and wondered how the steerage boy managed to make everything so simple and apparent.
And yet it was inarguable.
Lost my damned mind.
Cal frowned. He wouldn't let Jack win that one, either.
"You're very presumptuous, aren't you, Dawson?"
"Just observing."
Jack's eyes didn't leave his own, and though he was stubborn, Cal found himself averting his gaze back to the sea. It was easier.
He focused more attentively on the jagged shape of the distant waves; how they foamed up into rhythmic patterns that he could begin to predict, the longer he looked at them.
"I understand if you hate me, Cal," Jack said plainly. "And I'm sorry for any trouble I've caused."
The waves rose up, crashing against the hull of the ship, and Cal pretended they were more interesting.
"I don't hate you."
"No?" Jack sounded pleased and surprised.
Cal smiled, despite himself.
"Who were you waiting for, Dawson?"
"What?"
"Rose would have come to you this morning, if she had known you were waiting at the stairway. She's probably waiting for you even now, as we speak."
"Don't be-"
"Do you still have arrangements to meet her?"
Within a short but telling silence, Cal realised how ridiculous it all was; meeting the object of his fiancées affections, and attempting to goad him for an answer which he wasn't supposed to want or hear about. The ultimate betrayal of his fiancée.
But much worse than that; an entirely numb feeling to the very idea of it. As though it didn't even matter.
Jack made a sound like a sigh.
"I think Rose is waiting for something more than this."
"Nonsense. She's already in love with you."
"She's not just a lovesick teenager, Cal."
"No?" Cal tilted his head, rolling his eyes in frustration at the patchy sky. "Then what would you call it? An infatuation, perhaps? A little flight of fancy? Something she'll forget about when we eventually get off of this damned ship-"
"Cal..."
Fingers found Cal's shoulder. He flinched back automatically.
"Don't, Dawson."
"Sorry," Jack said.
Cal shook his head, attempting to be dismissive, though all his limbs seemed like they were on edge.
"It doesn't matter. Lovesick teenager or not, this is myself and Rose's predicament. And not your business, Dawson."
"But that's not the point, is it?"
"No?" Cal squeezed the rail harder. Gritted his teeth. "What is the point?"
"That neither of you are happy."
"That's your opinion."
"That's just what I see."
Cal pulled a face, and twisted away from the rail. But Jack's face was there, and it was too honest and too difficult to argue with, or even turn away from.
He managed to hold Jack's stare at least, this time.
"Well. Whatever you might 'see' is of no consequence to you in the end, Dawson."
"Then why are you here right now, Cal?"
The question was posed like a challenge, no matter how offhandedly and innocent Jack played it.
And Cal realised, in private despair, that he couldn't answer to it at all. He pushed a hand through his hair, searching for a default answer that would not come to him.
"You didn't tell me," he said instead, softly and through a halting breath. "Who you were waiting for on the stairway."
Jack took a step forward, and then reached out, very tentatively.
Fingers curled on Cal's shoulder, giving it the tiniest squeeze. And this time Cal did not flinch away.
Lost my damned mind.
"Come with me."
88
Having second thoughts already?
Second thoughts or not, it was all a little late now.
The steerage dining hall was nothing if not functional for a 'party', and even if it had the distinct odour of sweat and cheap beer, it wasn't actually anything unpleasant.
The room was buzzing with laughter and stomping and music, and Cal wanted to smile.
His standards hadn't dropped, he realised. He'd simply discarded the notion of them altogether. Temporarily.
It made everything so much lighter, or softer around the edges. Though that may have been the alcohol. He wasn't sure, and he'd already had too much to count.
And Jack was laughing at him, for some reason.
"Here," Jack said, and leaned forward, his hands moving and fingers finding Cal's collar in the smallest instant.
He undid those first couple of buttons with an ease Cal might have wondered more about, if only his mind had been more present.
Instead he just stared questionably at Jack.
"That's better," Jack said, as if it might be a decent explanation. He leaned back in his chair, mouth curving up and eyes roguish, looking Cal up and down for a few long and intended seconds. "Much better."
Cal felt at his undone collar, where the skin was uncommonly exposed, and where Jack was still staring at him. An unconscious swallow in his throat, and a brief heat crawled up his cheeks.
"You're indecent, Dawson," he managed to say.
"I am?" Jack looked pleased about it.
"Yes. Filthy, even."
Jack laughed, his eyes glittering.
He stood up, making a grand gesture to where a little girl was waiting for him.
Cal watched them dance together, until their shapes had merged into the crowd and they were lost, and voices were becoming echoes and colours were becoming blurs. It wasn't distressing at all, and Cal listened to the idle chatter around him with an intent that was absurd in itself, since he couldn't understand a word most of them were saying anyway.
"Want to dance?"
Cal felt the hand on his shoulder. He glanced up at Jack, and hoped he looked irritated.
"Suppose this is where you had your debauched time with my fiancée last night?"
Jack's grin abated. "It was fun. She had fun. She danced."
"I'm sure she did."
"So, do you want to?"
"I..." Cal blinked in confusion.
For a moment he could have taken Jack seriously; his palm was open, feigning the lead of a dance, and he likely would have done if Cal had decided to call his bluff...
"Don't be absurd," Cal said instead. Internally chastised himself for considering it.
Jack laughed, his hand not leaving Cal's shoulder.
Cal hesitated.
"I wouldn't mind directions to a nearby restroom, though."
"Certainly, sir."
Jack grabbed Cal's arm, pulling him through the cliques of people with such an enthusiastic purpose that it made Cal feel giddy.
He staggered forward, almost falling into Jack, and Jack whirled round in the same beat. His expression turned into immediate concern.
"Are you alright? Oh jeez...this was a bad idea, wasn't it?"
Despite the way Jack's face seemed to blur and spin, Cal laughed at him.
"...I think I'm rather drunk, Dawson."
"I see."
"How embarrassing."
Jack shook his head as though it were nothing, and led them the rest of the way through a door, into a small steerage W.C.
It was entirely empty and much cooler, and the walls were modest and muted. The thud of people outside had diminished into silence, and Cal felt like his senses might slowly be returning to him.
He rubbed his head and leaned back against the wall. He closed his eyes, enjoying the simple sensation of peacefulness for a minute.
"Sorry about this," Jack said. "I thought I'd try and show you a good time."
He did sound sorry, and Cal could imagine his face very easily. He smiled a bit.
"What a ridiculous situation this is, Dawson. It's barely past noon and I am an incredible mess."
"You don't look so bad to me."
Cal opened his eyes.
Jack was much closer than he'd expected. Close enough that he could see the small flecks of darker blue in his eyes, and then the tug of his mouth, as it began to blur. The tilt of his head...
"Dawson-"
And Jack's mouth pressed, light but deliberate, onto his own. How soft it was.
Cal forgot himself within the tiny moment; and an utterance that was supposed to have been a protest, was soon melting into a soft hum of pleasure. Something that he didn't even know he possessed...
Then he remembered everything else.
"...no," he tilted his head away, back against the wall, and glared at the red-wrought floor. "Not that."
Jack quickly stepped back, hands falling to his sides.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean..." he stopped again. "I'm very sorry."
He was an actual gentleman about it, just to rub salt in the wound.
Cal rubbed his head, the thrums of a headache that was not alcohol-induced finding him at last. How typical.
He laughed bitterly.
"What is it?" Jack asked.
"Everything," Cal realised, more to himself. "I'm afraid this has been a terrible mistake."
"I'm sorry you feel that way."
"Please," Cal tried to sneer. "Don't be."
He turned away in a rush, and fumbled with his collar, trying and failing to fasten it back up again. His fingers trembled and did not want to cooperate. He felt like a useless child.
"...damn it all..."
He was stilled, so suddenly, by Jack's hand on his own.
Cal tried to offer a defiant glare, but it was pointless. Jack's hold didn't waver, and his fingers grazed Cal's with a resolve that was matched only by his eyes.
"Here, Cal. Let me do it."
Cal nodded curtly, unable to do anything else.
Jack's hands were so precise and careful, and Cal could barely breathe through such insignificant seconds.
"It's a shame, though. Looks better undone."
"Improper," Cal corrected weakly.
"Improper suits you," Jack decided. He finished up the collar with a resigned sort of smile. "There. All finished."
"...thank you."
Cal blinked; the room was still spinning and now he felt quite sick as well.
He knew he wasn't fit company for Rose nor Ruth nor anybody else in the upper decks.
He was inebriated and also entering the clutches of an unforgiving migraine, and Jack was already looking at him with an incredible amount of concern.
"Are you sure you're okay?"
"Not especially," Cal admitted.
"I'd offer you my bed to lie down in for a while, but that's probably improper too."
"...extremely..."
"But I don't think that's the problem right now."
Jack sounded muffled, and his face was too close, as was the rest of him. There was a dusty but not unpleasant scent about him.
Then Cal realised he was sinking against Jack, and that he was going to pass out.
It was distantly humiliating, but Cal was too sick to worry about it.
"...improper..." he murmured anyway, before the lights went out.
As if that would have made a difference.
88
He woke up to the underside of a bunk bed and the soft hum of engine. Remnants of a dream scattered about his mind; something to do with the steerage boy, and propositions of a dance, and soft lips.
"Are you feeling much better?"
Oh, but it wasn't a dream.
Cal sat up at once, combating the dull ache in his head. It was annoying, but not unbearable anymore.
"I'm very well," he murmured. "And humiliated."
"You're also an impressive lightweight."
"Not the drink," Cal rubbed his head again. "Well. Mostly not."
Jack's face turned sombre.
"Are you usually very ill?"
"Just migraines. Damned inconveniences."
Jack nodded slowly, and offered him a glass of water.
"I gotta say. I'm a little more relieved that this isn't entirely my fault."
He budged a bit closer, and moved the glass toward Cal's lips.
Cal hesitated, staring through the water at Jack's rippling face.
"Usually I would retreat to a dark place. I'm not sure the steerage setting helps in the same way."
Jack tilted the glass up. "But you had a little fun, right?"
Cal drank and drank, until the glass was empty and water was trickling down his chin. He wiped his mouth, in a small effort to retain some dignity, before settling Jack a careful look.
"It was different, Dawson."
"Shall I that as a compliment?"
"Take it however you like."
Jack pondered it for mere seconds.
"A compliment, then," he said, and then stretched his arms out, like he'd been sitting for too long and his joints were stiff.
Cal wondered, vaguely, how late it was. There was a small port hole window in the bunk, and an orange-glow was streaming through it onto the starchy bed sheets.
Not so terribly late, then.
Cal shifted, feet touching the floor with a strange tentativeness. Jack moved quickly back, as if he had become far too aware of the proximity between them.
They sat there and stared ahead, at the other empty bunk bed. It was quiet, but Cal was more resigned than awkward to it.
"I guess you-"
"Is that-"
They both stopped talking.
"You first," said Jack.
"Is that your sketchbook?" Cal pointed at sheets of paper, poking through a bound pad that lay on the floor.
"Oh, yeah," Jack scooped it up, gathering the loose papers together rather hastily. He closed the pad. "You know. My doodlings."
"Rose rather likes your doodlings, doesn't she?"
"Perhaps she's being kind."
"That'd be my tactic. If I cared about kindness, that is."
Jack smiled at him. "You must like some art."
"It doesn't appeal to me in the way it appeals to Rose," Cal kept his eyes on the sketchbook. " Or yourself, clearly."
"Nonsense. Anyone can like art. You don't need to think about it, you just like what you like."
Cal smirked. "Easy as that, is it?"
"Sure. You just haven't seen a piece you really like yet."
"I suppose I haven't."
"Once you see something you like, something that really inspires you, you just know it," Jack said, his voice so full of insistence.
Cal stared at him. He looked so impassioned as he spoke. Cal thought it was inspiring by itself.
Oh.
"You talk so soft," Cal muttered. "Do I really have any cause to wonder why Rose fell for you?"
Jack scoffed, and still seemed to get closer.
"She hasn't fallen for me, Cal."
"But you were waiting for her. Don't lie to me, Jack."
Jack's mouth moved into a thin line.
"Does it bother you?"
"No," Cal realised. He didn't have to think about it. "Not now."
Jack's smile quivered. "Good."
His hand slipped around Cal's back.
Cal barely reacted; he dared not move, in case he gave anymore of himself away. Even recalling a fleeting kiss was too much, and his heart was pounding too loudly in his ears to think very clearly.
"You're shaking," Jack said.
His endless concern was touching.
"I'm fine," Cal told him.
He wasn't, because he knew that he wouldn't have denied Jack anything at all in that moment.
"Okay."
A mouth finding his own was evidence enough of that.
The sketchbook dropped on the floor, and Cal dropped back onto the bed in the same motion.
Jack hung above him, hungry and lustful and determined all at once, the orange glow of midday sun haloing his outline like a hazy dream.
His hand tapered along shirt, fingers unsteady in their excitement.
"What are you doing?" Cal asked faintly.
"Looks better," Jack said, through a heated breath. "...undone."
And then kissed him again, much more deeply.
Cal opened his mouth with a muffled moan, compliance reaching him so effortlessly and naturally that he didn't even have the mind to protest it anymore. It was fairly pointless, and his chest ached in the best sort of way.
They broke apart in a panting flush, and seconds hung frozen, like baited breath, around them. Waiting for the inevitable consequence of what they'd done.
But Cal couldn't do anything at all, except stare at Jack.
Absently notice the way the corners of his mouth twitched, whenever he looked like he was going to grin.
And then he did.
"...I'm guessing this is pretty improper too, huh?"
Cal tilted his head to the side; a dazed sort of bliss reaching him, as a mouth pressed to his jawline.
"...very improper..."
And he found that he didn't much care that it was, no matter what the consequence.
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an:
I like to think slow-burn is The Best. But I'm just so aware that the time frame is so small. You see my problem. So I injected alcohol to make kissing happen. Ho hum. Cheap tactic, I know.
Maybe be a part 3. This was supposed to be one part only but now i'm kinda invested. Oh noes. Also poor Rose. Maybe she needs to get involved in this ott drama to sort the boys out...?