an: merci beaucoup for the reviews thus far!
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Impossible
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It wasn't supposed to happen like that.
He'd never been kissed like that before. It was almost too much.
Heart pounding at his ribcage, but still somehow wanting to escape through his mouth. Electricity that possessed his entire body, putting it on the edge of an anticipation he didn't even know that he needed.
It was all those clichéd ideas of passion and more.
Those that probably belonged in some trashy literature, or imaginations that were far too fantastical and ridiculous by half. The sort he should have been scornful about.
But Jack's mouth was so heated and urgent.
And Cal moaned.
"...Dawson..."
His fingers coiled and clung to quilt cover, as if that might anchor his mind again, but of course it didn't. There were teeth and tongue trailing his neckline, and Jack was completely devouring him.
Another moan. He couldn't help it.
Then, through the dim fuzz of his mind, he heard echoing footsteps. Voices coming from a place that could have been another world.
It wasn't supposed to happen like that.
"...stop..."
He pressed a hand to Jack's chest, pushing him away and lurching upright all at once. His stomach twisted, heart in mouth, and they both waited for the door to open.
It never did, and the voices and footsteps passed after what seemed an age.
Jack looked at Cal, a smile ghosting his pink mouth.
"That was close," he started to laugh, a hand moving to reach Cal's.
"I have to go," Cal said, wiping his mouth.
He stood up, perhaps too quickly, and a spell of dizziness reached him. His head was burning, but not in the usual way of a migraine.
"Cal, wait...are you alright?"
"Fine, Dawson."
He started toward the door, but Jack was too persistent, and his fingers scrunched into Cal's shirt, keeping him in place for just a moment.
"Please. Can't we just talk a minute?"
Cal sneered, automatically.
When he looked at Jack he could have imagined and said a thousand derogatory things. He had a well worn arsenal of them, cocked and loaded, ready and waiting on the tip of his poisonous tongue. Words were easy weapons, and Jack was nobody.
But his head was still burning and a heat was prickling all over his body. The devastating aftershock of whatever had happened between them.
And Jack's hand was still there.
It wasn't supposed to happen like that.
Cal gripped the door handle.
"No reason for me to talk to filth," he heard himself say.
A terrible silence dragged between them, and Cal became stuck in an absurd moment of regret.
"I'm not filth," Jack said, finally. "Or you wouldn't have let me do that."
Cal watched his knuckles whiten on the door handle for some painful seconds, before he opened it.
"Goodbye, Dawson."
Jack's voice echoed down the corridor after him, but Cal couldn't stand to look back.
8
His head was buzzing before he reached B deck.
There were faces that appeared familiar only in small instances; like idle small talk at the dinner table last night, or maybe polite smiles and greetings in passing at the reception room or on the deck.
Now they were all looking at him as though he'd emerged from a pit; raised brows and murmured sounds that would have been a damnation at any other time in his life.
For now though he just needed to escape. Only for a little while.
"...Mr. Hockley?"
Cal turned around, disorientated by the sight of a high-status couple he probably should have recognised.
"...you alright? You look rather a fright, old man."
Cal smiled and nodded weakly in the gentleman's direction, and hoped it was enough.
He navigated the rest of the way through the corridors in a rush; combing a hand through tangled hair, attempting to fasten buttons and straighten a collar that only reminded him of another's precise and deliberate fingers. It made his own tremble some more.
"Damn it-" he cursed, and collided with a far more familiar face.
"Sir," Lovejoy said, and offered him a gracious nod.
The valet briefly looked Cal up and down, and seemed to play oblivious to his dishevelled appearance.
"Mrs. DeWitt Bukater has been asking after you for the better part of the afternoon."
Cal could have laughed.
Of course it would be Ruth.
"I was feeling out of sorts," Cal said. He hesitated. "And what of Rose?"
"She's in the company of Mrs. Dewitt too."
"Very well."
He slumped back against the wall, slowly massaging his temple.
It wasn't a relief or anything close to that, but he thought he might collapse if the tension continued to gnaw at his bones.
"Sir...?"
"Tell them I've been out of sorts, that's all. It can't be helped, Lovejoy."
Lovejoy cleared his throat, but it was like something more than an affirmation.
"If that's what Mr. Hockley wants."
Cal blinked up at him.
The valet was always so impossibly professional, as it should be, but the hard edge had diminished from his eyes now, and the thin line of his mouth moved just a bit. Concern looked strange on his face.
Cal felt himself smiling, however weakly.
"Everything is quite fine, Lovejoy."
Lovejoy nodded. "And...the Dawson boy?"
"Dealt with," Cal turned away. "Tell the Dewitt's that I won't be joining them for dinner this evening either. Regrettably. I'm still feeling...out of sorts."
It wasn't a lie.
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Perhaps it was the drink.
A bad influence on the senses, that was all. Something that made bewildering actions seem reasonable in the heat of the moment.
Cal dropped down onto the bed, trying to console himself with the thought.
He blinked slowly, and though the room tilted with the suggestion of drunkenness, he could still taste Jack on his lips, and his heart beat a little faster as he recalled everything else.
He closed his eyes, unsteady fingers tracking the remembered trail of Jack's mouth.
The hungry and forced press upon jaw, and then throat and neckline. The dusty scent of skin and sweat that had entirely overwhelmed him, fresh on his own clothes, even now.
Cal bowed his head into the scent, inhaling and exhaling with a harshness that made his chest shudder.
A warm wetness slid down his cheeks.
8
He didn't usually dream, or if he did he often forgot, or didn't care to remember.
This time he remembered.
Something about waves swirling patterns in the sea, and a boat adrift that had too many people on it. It was nighttime, and they might have been people he knew, but they were too far away to be able to know for sure.
A pounding in his head woke him up, until he realised it was actually someone knocking at the door.
"...are you there? Cal?"
Cal sat up, chest tightening with the sound of Jack's voice.
"Dawson?" he said anyway.
"Hey. You're okay?"
Cal stared blankly at the door.
"Yes."
"Can I...can I come in?"
"Of course not."
There was a pause, in which Cal held his breath, conflicted by the idea of Jack being cooperative and just walking away. Out of sight and out of life altogether. It would have been easier that way too, perhaps.
But Jack wasn't like that.
"I can't," he said. "I mean...I need to talk to you first. Then I'll leave."
Cal stood up, wiping an arm roughly over his eyes. He stepped closer to the door.
"I demand you leave now, Dawson. Or else I'll have you arrested."
He took another breath, waiting for Jack to relent.
The quiet extended, and his heart began to sink, quite involuntarily.
Then Jack spoke again;
"You'll have to arrest me, then."
Cal groaned, and looked uselessly up at the ceiling. Caught in a bizarre sort of turmoil that was both terrifying and exciting.
His heart was beating in his ears again, and Jack would not leave. Of course he wouldn't.
In a surge of decisiveness, Cal angrily unlocked the door.
Jack was leaning against the nearest wall, hands in pockets and seemingly careless to the rest of the world. He straightened when he looked at Cal, mouth curving up a bit.
"Hey."
"What do you want?" Cal snapped.
He pulled Jack the rest of the way into the room, closing and locking the door behind them.
Jack staggered in, eyes momentarily lighting up on his surroundings. Then he turned back round to Cal, smile becoming softer, or perhaps concerned.
"Are you feeling much better?"
Cal glared at him. "How the hell did you find my suite?"
Jack shrugged. "Is it very relevant?"
"Of course it is. I'll have them arrested too."
Jack walked across to the other side of the room, as if Cal hadn't said anything. He knelt down to a row of unmounted paintings, and made a soft whistling sound.
"Monet."
Cal clenched his jaw, and tapped his foot, staring at Jack's crouched and insolent back.
"Somehow I severely doubt you're here to admire my fiancées awful paintings."
Jack looked over his shoulder, offering a grin that might have been apologetic.
"They're just impressive, you know."
Cal turned away. "I don't personally understand the attraction."
He made a hurried beeline for the nearby cabinet, and took a tumbler from it, pouring himself a drink that burned down his throat before he'd barely looked at it.
And then another. Rinse and repeat.
"I'm guessing you haven't actually been prescribed that medication for your migraines?"
Cal knocked back another, and rolled his eyes at the ceiling.
"Haha. Be quick, Dawson. Just tell me what you want."
"What I want?" Jack stood up. He looked confused.
"Yes. Whatever you want," Cal impatiently drummed the tumbler to his nails, letting alcohol dance and splash around the edges. "I have money. Plenty of it, as you're aware. Just name your price."
"I don't want your money."
Cal flinched at the words, and observed Jack's shocked face with what he hoped was a sneer.
"But it's my word against yours, Jack. And which one of us are they going to believe, really? I'm offering you the better option here."
Realisation crossed Jack's face all at once. He looked horrified.
"Cal, I wouldn't...I'm not here for anything like that."
Cal shook his head. His eyes trawled the room, a reckless sort of desperation finding him.
"Let's not needlessly draw this out, for God's sake."
"But I don't want anything..."
Cal walked quickly into the safe room, trying to ignore the protesting pry of Jack's voice.
A mindless automation switched on within him as he opened the safe door, and began rifling through wads of cash. His hands were shaking, but only slightly. Jack wouldn't notice.
"Here, Dawson. There's plenty here, in case you need to ease that wretched saintly conscience of yours..."
"Cal-"
"Just take the damn money-"
"Cal!"
A hand grabbed his wrist, holding it steady. Then there was breath, heated and close to his neck. Cal froze, recalling the sensation vividly.
It wasn't supposed to happen like that.
He glared at the wads of money, clutched too tight in his hand.
The futility of it all suddenly became so clear to him.
He laughed, and it was edged with nerves.
"Cal?" Jack said, cautiously.
Cal blinked, trying to recompose himself.
"I gave her a diamond."
"...what?"
"I gave Rose a diamond, " Cal glanced to the side, noticing intricate patterns on wallpaper. "She hated it. She didn't say so, of course. But I know she did."
He lifted his head, fractionally aware of the hand still curled over his own.
There was a small wall mirror in front of them both, and Jack was watching him in it, very intently.
"Rose doesn't want things like that, Cal."
"She doesn't want me," Cal corrected.
He released the money, letting it spill onto the counter.
Jack's hand didn't move, though.
"Does that matter anymore?" he asked.
His face was so close that Cal could have counted the tiny lines of his lips, and how much he still wanted them, as they moved into the kindest shape of an earnest smile.
Cal swallowed the thought, and quickly pulled the diamond out of the safe.
He held it up to the mirror, where it's reflection hung heavy and looked unremarkable.
"It's nice," said Jack, like it was an obligation.
"So take it."
Jack's eyes widened in the mirror.
"What? No-"
"Money isn't an issue. I have the insurance. And we can both keep our dignity," Cal hesitated, around another sneer. "Or more what is left of mine."
"No."
The firmness in Jack's voice was more surprising than anything else; even more than the way he so bodily turned Cal around, jolting him with hands that were hard and tense on his shoulders.
"Cal. I don't want your money. I never came here for anything like that. Hell...I hardly even know why I came here," he paused, in a moment of revelation. "...I guess I just wanted to make sure you're alright."
Cal blinked, feigning a disinterest that made his throat feel dry.
"Then I'm alright," he said flatly. "I'm fine."
"I don't believe you."
"Hah. You are a fool, Dawson."
Jack didn't seem to care about insults. His fingers dug harder into Cal's shoulders, and he jolted him again, just a bit.
"You're drunk. And you're not thinking clearly."
Cal laughed.
"But clearly enough to see that you're still unable to take advantage of me," his smile slipped, with an embittered realisation."Though I suppose that's what common decency is, isn't it?"
"Cal-"
"Tell me, Dawson," Cal interrupted sharply. "How am I ever supposed to hate you?"
He bowed his head, laugh dissolving into a broken sigh.
"Because it appears to be...quite impossible, actually."
The harsh grip on his shoulders eased away then, before he realised that Jack's arms were moving all around him instead, in a careful but wanting embrace.
Cal sunk into it. Apparently he couldn't rescue his own reputation anymore, either.
"Isn't it easier just to like me, then?" Jack murmured, close to his ear. "Like before."
Cal closed his eyes, through a sharp intake of breath.
"It was...it was just a lapse in character, Dawson. That's all."
But he lifted his arms anyway, in a slow and tentative gesture, and returned the embrace.
The pulse of alcohol was still dizzying, but he was present enough to know that he didn't want to let go, as pathetic as it was.
"You don't have to make excuses," Jack said, as if he'd read his thoughts."It's okay."
Then he gently clasped the back of Cal's head, pulling him in.
Cal's senses must have torn apart with the kiss.
He only vaguely registered his back sliding against the wall, and hands tugging at shirt and tie, as if physically trying to pull him apart. His heart might have been fluttering in his throat.
He moaned, and Jack's mouth curved into a smile against his own. A hand caught his jaw in a soothing motion, as the kiss broke apart;
"Please tell me. If you want to stop," Jack said.
His eyes were bright and his face was flushed with desire.
The remains of whatever passed for Cal's rationale flickered in his mind, for just a hazy moment; an entitled socialite mingling amongst other socialites, visions of a disapproving father, and all the judgement that came with it. And Rose.
And Rose.
But Rose did not care, and perhaps Jack did not care either, but at least he was here.
Cal's chest quaked, and he dipped his head into the hollow of Jack's shoulder, mouth barely daring to graze the skin there.
"Please...do whatever you want with me, Dawson."
Jack pressed a kiss to his head. "It's 'Jack', remember."
Cal laughed faintly, as the wall became prominent against his back again, and teeth scraped a collarbone that wasn't supposed to have been exposed.
He looked toward the dark oak ceiling, attempting to gather just a little of his senses together.
Instead his vision fluttered, as Jack's hand found the tenderest part of him.
He gasped, fingers biting involuntarily at shirt, and dropped the diamond on the floor.
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"I asked Rose."
"What?" Cal straightened up on the bed.
He was already self-conscious; bed covers twisted all around them, clothes strewn about the place with what was once a passionate abandon, now just seemed like a terrible mess.
"I asked Rose which room you were staying in," Jack explained. "I said I wanted to come straighten things out with you. She was happy to tell me."
"Rose did as you asked her?" Cal began pulling his breeches on, budging away from the bed some more. "Small miracles, I suppose."
"Well. When you ask someone nicely it does help."
"I always have."
"Not this morning, so I heard."
Cal's hands faltered within the effort of buttoning up his shirt. There were a couple missing, and he wondered absently how Jack had managed to do that.
"You want to defend Rose now? That's rich, Dawson. We've both essentially betrayed her," he paused, and considered the thought with a nauseous smile.
It was still sinking in, really.
He sighed. "Is my life over, now?"
"Doesn't have to be that dramatic," Jack said, and his mouth touched Cal's neck. "At least Rose would be free of a marriage she doesn't want."
Cal tilted his head, to look at Jack properly. "You're so charming, Dawson."
"But isn't it true?"
"I suppose," Cal finished up the buttons on his shirt, attempting to ignore the hands that were already moving around his chest, trying to undo him again. "And what of you? I believe you've already broken her heart."
Jack didn't say anything; it was the sort of hesitancy that made Cal's stomach twist.
He smiled weakly at the floor.
"Unless you plan to do that to me, of course."
He stood up before Jack could answer, straightening out his shirt and breeches, and smoothing a hand through his hair. He practised a vague smile at an imaginary person, before going back into the safe room.
The diamond was still on the floor where he'd left it, gleaming prettily. Cal picked it up, and when he turned back around Jack was standing right in front of him, dressed, and with a serious expression.
"Nothing happened with Rose, Cal. I told you that."
Cal smiled sarcastically. "So then. Am I supposed to wait and see which of us you'd prefer?"
"Don't talk so stupid."
"I'm being reasonable," Cal baulked at his own words. "Though only God knows why..."
He trailed off, as Jack's hands cupped his face.
Oh yes, that was why.
He would have let it all happen again, if not for the sharp knock on the door.
"...Hockley?" it was Ruth's voice.
Cal and Jack looked between each other in a brief panic. Cal cleared his throat.
"Just a moment," then he steeled himself.
He pressed the diamond into Jack's hand, before he could react.
Jack stared at him as if he'd actually lost his mind. It was certainly up for debate.
"I already told you. I'm not going to tell anyone about this."
Cal hurried out the room, waving away the words like an irritant. He scanned the bedroom for his shoes.
"Nice as the sentiments are, Dawson, I can't exactly count on them."
"You mean you can't trust me."
Cal flinched. "It isn't so simple as that."
"It is,"
Jack's fingers found his own, as he dropped the diamond back into his hand. Cal looked at it, feeling hopeless.
"I have so much more to lose."
"Mr Hockley?" said Ruth's voice again. She sounded impatient, if not suspicious.
"You won't lose anything," Jack said. "I promise."
The certainty in his voice was admirable, and Cal could have believed it.
Then the knocking on the door stopped, and there was the jangling noise of keys in lock.
Jack grabbed Cal's wrist, squeezing it tight.
"I promise."
Cal clenched his jaw, in a moment of indecision that he knew was entirely pointless. He rolled his eyes at the ceiling.
"...very well, then."
As they ran out the back room, Cal thought, in the grand scheme of things, he would soon have very little left to lose anyway.
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AN: I can't believe I'm still doing this but here we are. I mean how many more 'im' words can I go through. I just like to torture myself. I have no idea where this story is going or what will happen next. Besides, you know, the ship sinking. I think Rose will appear next chapter though. And maybe a scandalised Ruth! And a not-really-surprised Lovejoy. Maybe none of this, though. No guarantees on anything. Review if you can be bothered!