A/N: (10/20/2023) as part of the great re-crossposting, I will absolute share the other chapters of this fic as I finished it on AO3. Context in those author's notes may be missing here.

restless quiet (PRE)

If there was one thing that Jack both hated and loved as part of his alien nature, it was how the thrum of energy affected his sleep.

On one hand, it was great to feel so full of life - to get so much done, and efficiently.

On the downside, he had to keep it a secret - on the nights where he physically could not sleep (he would learn in time to 'turn off' the flow of energy), he couldn't just wander around the apartment. His roommates were more than likely asleep, so his activities were limited.

Plus, he knew he would crash soon, and for a while.

So for the time being, he had taken to watching tv at a very low volume in the living room (he had yet to save enough for a tv in his own room). It was mostly infomercials, and selling shows. He had even found a nice house flipping series at one point - he would mutter commentary in a low voice to himself, as he couldn't hear the people on it too well.

Tonight was one of those bold nights, where he had Sam out and on his lap, gently stroking the little eyeball like he was a kitten. The show on the screen had a woman and man discussing a bright magenta handbag, with the little 'WOW!' bubble displaying the ridiculous price of £29.95.

Jack tried to calculate it into Euros, but found he couldn't. "Ugh, weird British currency."

"You could say that."

Jack managed to slip Sam into his hoodie pocket when he heard Mark's deep chuckle. His heart was racing, though he was certain Mark hadn't seen Sam. It wasn't like he could 'send him back' - the flash of energy would be too obvious.

Jack turned as he felt the couch dip, Mark setting himself down on it. There were shadows under the American's eyes, something tired in his gaze. He motioned to the set with one hand, "I think that's like, sixty dollars? Or something? Maybe a little less."

Jack looked back at the screen, keeping his hands in his pocket and stroking Sam to keep him quiet. "Hmm."

They sat in silence for a bit, nothing but the glow of the set to illuminate their faces vaguely white-blue.

Jack's the one who decided to speak up first. "So, what's got you up?"

He glanced at his friend, catching his quirked brow. "You're asking me?"

A shrug. "Yeah."

". . ." He watched Mark for a moment, as he gazed at the screen. "It's just one of those nights; too quiet. You?"

Jack felt the energy that flowed through him slow down; thought of the restless quiet that had needed to be filled. "Me too," he answered softly.

They stayed like that, watching tv and letting the sound comfort them. Neither fell asleep until the sun began to crest the horizon - Jack deconstructing Sam in his sleep.

That's how Dan found them the next morning; Jack curled into a ball and muttering softly, while Mark lay with his head back and snored. Both obviously comfortable and content.