Work Text:
It’s not long into first being roommates that Eric invites Jack to go out to the club with him.
“I’m just uncomfortable picking up girls,” Jack explains. It’s the truth, he doesn’t feel very smooth around ladies and he can’t imagine ever flirting with any of the guys he finds attractive. It might be the late 90’s where it’s becoming more accepted but it sure won’t keep him from getting punched in the face. So quietly appreciating his ridiculously good looking new friend and never speaking about it is just how it has to be.
“Watch and learn,” Eric steps into Jack’s space and angles his model handsome face, hair cascading into his eyes just right as he gazes deeply at Jack.
Oh, Jack is so dead. It’s one hundred percent possible Jack Hunter has begun his new life here at Pennbrook only to die shortly upon getting there. Because there’s definitely a rule about not being in love with your roommate and Jack is currently staring into the eyes of a one way ticket to ‘You’re gonna be so fucking gone over this idiot’-ville.
“What are you doing?” Jack pitches his voice low on purpose, a reminder to himself and Eric that they are men, thank you, and should totally not be this close to each other’s faces unless someone is choking. He clutches his jacket like a life preserver.
“Loving you with my eyes,” Eric croons at him while Jack send frantic SOS signals to any deity paying attention to please make this stop. It’s a joke, Eric is joking, this is what he does, he’s a goofball and this is totally how he acts with everyone, Jack should in no way take him seriously or feel special in any way.
“Please don’t,” he begs Eric with a wavering voice and tries to will his feet to move but he’s rooted to the ground where he stands.
“The ladies love it,” Eric wiggles his eyebrows and Jack continues to choke the life out of his jacket so he won’t say something stupid like ‘I can see why’. “Come on,” Eric heads to the door blissfully releasing Jack from certain death.
What happens for the next few days is a blur when he looks back on it. They meet Millie in the hallway, she’s very forward with Jack and he finds himself saying yes to anything she asks for. He finds himself saying and doing things he doesn’t really want to but his mouth just pours out words and his body goes through the motions. He and Eric fight and there’s a voice in his head screaming at him because Eric is right and being logical- Jack doesn’t know the first thing about this girl! This isn’t him, he’s a logical planner who gets to know someone before he falls in love with them.
In the end Eric saves him which, in retrospect, Jack thinks is the excuse he uses for why he always goes along with Eric’s schemes. They go through various girlfriends, their friendship holding strong through all sorts of insanity. It gives Jacks life spice when he knows what it would be otherwise- a boring black and white commercial for acid reflux medicine. He knows because he saw it just now on TV and Eric nudges him.
“That’s you,” Eric doesn’t break his gaze from the screen as he digs his elbow into Jack’s ribs. They might be sitting too close but really, the couch sinks in the middle so it’s not like being this close was on purpose. No, that isn’t just what Jack tells himself.
“Excuse me?” Jack huffs and shoves Eric’s pointy elbow.
“Yeah, see the guy was like ‘Oh ugh, this pay-pahwerk’,” Eric is using his elderly man voice even though the business man on TV was only in his 40s. He clutches dramatically at his chest, “Is this a heart attack or indigestion? Where’s my Pepto? Gotta finish these papers,” his hands shuffle about in front of him like he’s blind.
“Whatever. If I’m that guy you’re a stupid looking pink bottle mascot,” Jack takes a swig from his beer feeling like that was a good comeback.
“Of course I am! Look how happy that thing is! He busts in through the door and Elderly Business Guy’s entire world starts to have color!” Eric waves his arms around to mimic busting through the door and how the color fills the room from the perky pink bottle.
“He’s not elderly,” Jack says petulantly into the rim of his beer, not commenting on how Eric brightens up his life because he can’t argue that point. “Whatever.”
“I promise when you’re old and frail I won’t let you mistake heartburn for certain death,” a hand pats Jack’s thigh in a move that’s intended to be comforting but Jack is currently internally spiraling out seeing their future together. It’s not bad, not by a long shot, in fact it’s much nicer than anything he imagined with any girl he’s dated long term. Also if they manage to reach forty and not have landed in jail together more than two times Jack will call it a victory.
He drains his beer because this is truly some sort of karmic retribution for something he’s done in a past life. What kind of awful thing did he do that the punishment is having to silently be in love with your best friend for the rest of your life? Jack would hold a séance to apologize to whatever angry spirit could fix this but he’s still very nervous about all that magical stuff.
Jack is about to heft himself out of the couch-pit to get another beer when he realizes Eric’s hand hasn’t moved off his thigh. ‘Don’t tense up, you’re a man’ he panic-thinks at himself, ‘this is friendly bro behavior, do not read into this.’ Jokes on him because the lizard part of his brain is happily chirping that it has seen this porno!
“Hey,” Eric says ducking his head a little to catch Jack’s eyes that are still burning a hole into his thigh. “Get me another beer too?”
“Wha?” Jack blinks at Eric as the fog of sexy situations hangs around his mind starts to clear. “Beer, right, coming up,” he nods along. Eric hands his empty over and his hand disappears as suddenly as it showed up. Ever the responsible adult Jack rinses the bottle in the sink and considers splashing some water on his face because he’s seriously out of it. He snags two new beers and pops the tops off before returning to the couch. The rest of the night passes normally and Jack shakes it off, telling himself to stop reading so much into every little weird thing Eric does.
It’s a rainy Tuesday afternoon when Jack and Eric are returning from class. Eric is already halfway inside while Jack continues a losing fight against his half broken umbrella at the door. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Eric striding to the fridge, pause, and then walk backwards like he’s rewinding time. Eric doesn’t even look back as he butt-bumps Jack out of the way so he can shut the door again.
“Eric? What the hell man?” Jack holds onto his umbrella that’s so close to latching properly while Eric re-locks the door. “Is it burglars? Did we get robbed?” Eric holds up a finger for silence. Jack can’t think of anything worse at the moment but he also doesn’t remember anything seeming out of place from his side-view the TV was clearly still there.
Eric takes a deep breath in and does a flourishing hand movement he learned from his acting class that’s supposed to center him before a scene. It doesn’t matter that Jacks internal eye roll becomes an external eye roll because Eric isn’t paying attention anyway. The umbrella takes this quiet moment to rebel and pop open causing Eric to scream.
“It’s just the umbrella, man! Open the door, this is ridiculous!” Jack’s annoyed at this point. He had stepped in a puddle on the way home and wet socks alone are enough to make anyone grumpy until they were off. Eric flips around and blocks Jack from the door with his arms on the frame.
“If I open this door and we’re in another dimension what would you do?” He asks with the utmost seriousness.
“Make sure we still have beer in the fridge, first of all, because this is stupid. And then I would put on dry socks because I am uncomfortably damp right now.” Jack is logical, very point A to point B. The universe could be crumbling but he would still want dry socks. He wrestles the umbrella back into his fist, knowing full well his fight is not over yet.
Eric nods solemnly accepting the answer, rolls his shoulders, then turns around and unlocks the door. He pushes it with just the tips of his fingers and it opens slowly. Jack peeks around him to see what all the fuss is about but nothing looks out of place so far, he can hear the TV is on but this is all quite dramatic for accidentally wasting some power while they were at class. Eric steps inside and Jack follows, closing the door behind them.
“What the hell, it’s just Shawn and Cory. Why’d you get all weird?” Jack isn’t sure what’s going on. Shawn is at Eric’s end of the couch with his feet kicked up on the coffee table, pillow tucked under his arm while he channel surfs, nearly exactly like the other eight thousand times they’ve come home to Shawn crashing in their space even though he doesn’t live there anymore. Cory is sitting on Jack’s end nearest to the door with his legs and arms crossed with his shoulders high up near his ears. None of these things is particularly uncommon. Eric stands between the coffee table and the TV to block their view, squinting menacingly at first Shawn, then Cory, then back.
The two on the couch resolutely do not look at each other, Shawn glaring at Eric while Cory inspects the ceiling innocently. Tension hangs in the air for some reason and now Jack is starting to get suspicious. He leans over slightly to try and catch Cory’s eye when his umbrella once again finds this to be the perfect opportunity to pop open, spooking them all.
“It was exactly what it looked like!” Cory yells in distress and kicks the open umbrella in defense before hugging his knees to his chest.
“Cory!” Shawn barks out a warning tone and his glare turns on Cory.
“AH-HA!” Eric shouts pointing a finger at each of them in triumphant glee.
“For a third time, what the hell is going on?!” Jack is about to throw the open umbrella at Eric because he’s so frustrated being out of the loop.
“Shawn and I-”
“Shut up!” Shawn wallops Cory in the side with his couch pillow but it doesn’t matter because Cory is already in a fetal position.
“Hey! Don’t domestically abuse my brother, only I’m allowed to domestically abuse my brother!” Eric hops over the coffee table, yanks the pillow out of Shawn’s hand and boffs him in the shoulder with it.
He continues, “And furthermore don’t make out with my brother on this couch, only I’m allowed to make out with your brother on this couch!” Eric gives Shawn another thwomping before Shawn raises his arms to shield himself, mostly from the dust of the pillow not the impact.
“Wait what?” Jack is completely lost.
“I’m going to go ahead and second that,” Shawn points at Jack from under the pillow.
“I don’t have any further questions so you can go ahead,” Cory waves a gracious hand giving Eric the floor to explain himself.
“Wait what?” Eric echoes, pausing in confusion while turning to look at Cory, his pillow wielding hand following and thumps Cory in the side of the head with it.
“Making out?” Jack prompts and cannot believe this is his life.
“Oh right,” Eric smiles remembering then he whips the pillow back at Shawn’s shoulder angrily. “Nobody gets to make out on this couch except me!” Each word is emphasized with a hit so they become increasingly weak and short distanced. “Apartment rules!”
Jack rubs a hand on his temple feeling an annoyance headache coming on. “That is definitely not a rule.”
“Cory and I weren’t making out,” Shawn usually lies better than this, his face is doing whatever the exact opposite of a poker face is, Jack is honestly a little disappointed in his skills. “We were just-”
“Shawn was choking and I was helping!” Cory interrupts loudly.
“Helping choke him? Because that doesn’t sound best friend-like,” Eric points out suspiciously, squinting again at Cory.
“Somedays I’d like to choke you,” Jack mutters into his hands and he hears Shawn snort a laugh. “Aw wait, that didn’t come out right.” The lizard brain perks up at this kinky idea but Jack one thousand percent cannot deal with that right now. His socks are still uncomfortably damp, he can only take so much emotional distress at once.
“Okay,” Cory concedes with a shrug, “so we were making out but-”
“Topanga knows, it’s totally fine,” Shawn cuts him off to answer the most immediate question that would come up, waving his hands in a ‘no harm, no foul’ gesture of innocence.
“She says I’m like an over eager puppy who needs another outlet for my excitement.” Cory smiles proudly at the explanation, clearly memorized word for word. Eric looks properly disgusted thinking about it, starting to make aborted gagging noises.
“I don’t need to know any of that, thanks,” Jack rubs his hands over his face again. “So you’ve decided your hook up spot is our apartment? If Topanga is fine with it why can’t you be at your apartment?”
“We used to but then we got loud and so-” Shawn clarifies but is interrupted by Eric clutching his ears with an incoherent yell.
“HURRNERFERBLERGH! Yup, okay, I don’t need to hear anymore. She’s a consenting adult and the two of you are whatever the hell you are.” Eric is rubbing his ears like he wants to forget what he’s heard. He shuffles to the fridge for beer and Jack gives up on his broken umbrella and wedges it in the corner.
“I hate you both and my socks are wet so I don’t have the energy to deal with this right now,” Jack explains while toeing his shoes off before heading to his room for dry socks.
They don’t talk about it again after Jack comes back with fresh socks, everyone piles onto the couch and attempts to rechristen it for what it’s supposed to be-- awful primetime TV show watching and beer drinking.
Eventually it gets late, Jack and Cory have morning classes tomorrow so Cory and Shawn leave. Shawn catches Jack before he shuts the door completely.
“Don’t think I let the part where Eric said you two make out on this couch go. I want details later,” Shawn shoves Jack’s shoulder but looks proud.
“There are no details because it’s never happened. And why would you want details? I never want details about anything you do,” Jack’s misery can only dig so deep today and every time he thinks he’s hit bottom the universe drops him another few feet.
Shawn wiggles his eyebrows. “Excruciating detail. Eric’s always been hot. Not as hot as me, but certainly second in the group overall.” Jack is shaking his head because again, he can’t believe this is his life, but Shawn thinks it’s because he doesn’t agree. “You’re third, it’s fine.”
“Get out.”
“Okay but later-”
“Goodbye Shawn!” Jack pushes the door shut, nearly pinching an accusatory pointer finger between the door and frame as Shawn also gets dragged away by Cory on the other side. Jack leans back against it after he slides the deadbolt into place and heaves a sigh. “How is it only Tuesday? Not even halfway through the week and this insanity is happening.”
“Dunno man, technically it’s Wednesday now I guess?” Eric’s muffled voice comes from inside the fridge where he’s rustling for a pre-bedtime snack. “But if your little brother ever hurts my little bro—”
“I’ll kill him before you can,” Jack waves a hand behind him as he climbs the small set of stairs, already dreaming of his pillow. His plans are foiled when he can’t make it past the landing of the stairs because his hand has been trapped behind him. He turns to see what his over-shirt sleeve got caught on but it’s just Eric with the edge of the sleeve pinched in his fingers.
“Hey,” he looks serious, staring slightly up at Jack from the bottom of the stairs. He’s holding a dill pickle jar in his other hand which sort of ruins the gravitas he’s trying to build up. “I just wanted to say…”
Jack’s heart about leaps out of his chest because this feels like something he’s been waiting for forever but he’d brushed it off as a joke earlier. His mouth suddenly goes dry and he’s wide awake. “Yeah?” He prompts and Eric takes an audible breath for courage…
“Shawn’s wrong, I’m definitely as hot as him so we’re both first and you’re second.” He smiles proudly and shakes the sleeve he’s holding in a way that feels like ‘good job lil buddy’ to Jack.
“That’s—that’s it?” Adrenaline that was coursing through Jack before stops in his veins, but his heart hasn’t gotten the memo so it still beats wildly. His shoulders slump tiredly as he pulls his arm out of Eric’s grip.
“Yeah.” Eric nods at him grinning, “Okay good night, I’m gonna watch infomercials.” He works on opening the pickle jar as he takes the few steps to the couch before sitting down.
Jack turns back away from the stairs and scrubs his hands through his hair while his brain sputters around trying to find its emotional footing after such a letdown. He doesn’t want to be the one to admit his feelings to Eric. Not only because it’s a vulnerable place to be but he doesn’t want to be the one to blame if things turn awkward. Their friendship means a lot to him and something like what Cory and Shawn are doing have a lot riding on it. Maybe he should ask Shawn how he and Cory figured it out? Those are the kind of details he’d want to know about—
A smallish dill pickle hits him on the cheek.
Something in Jack breaks.
He snatches up the pickle off the floor and swipes at his face. “Seriously?!?!” He yells, leaning over the railing at the stairs holding the pickle up accusingly at Eric.
“I was trying to get your attention man!” Eric shakes a larger pickle back at him from the couch below.
“What, Eric!? What now?!” A little piece of Jack’s brain tries to let him know he’s edging into hysterical territory but that piece is drowned out by the irrationally angry bits. To be fair, it’s been quite a day.
“I was going to say as second hottest if you ever wanted to make out on the couch I’d be down for it!” Eric yells back at him then turns back to the TV and crunches into his pickle shaking his head and muttering to himself, “Try to give a guy a compliment, geeze, whatever,” then loudly to dismiss Jack, “Good night grumpypants!”
Jack feels like he wants to cry but he’s not sure if it’s happy tears or what. He wants to laugh at how terribly Eric just laid out everything, it’s not fair. His brain has spun a million different ways this could go down and this was how it happened? A casual offer for making out thrown out after midnight with pickle breath? This isn’t the beautiful, nice, touching, romantic thing Jack wanted.
He throws the pickle back at Eric half heartedly and it somehow gets under the neck of his sweater. Eric makes a noise and sits on the edge of the couch, plucking the sweater away from his body trying to get the pickle out from under the sweater.
“You’re so- I can’t-” Jack hangs on to the railing miserably and his stomach feels like it’s in knots.
“If you didn’t want to make out you could have just said no, you don’t have to attack me with a pickle,” Eric grumbles as the pickle finally shakes out onto the floor again then bounce-rolls under the couch. “A simple ‘No, but thanks for the offer—”
“Oh my god!” Jack groans. “I want to! Okay?! But you just-”
“Well now I don’t, so too bad,” Eric wiggles back into his couch corner petulantly, finishing his own pickle with a resolute crunch.
Jack thumps his head on the railing. How can he be this close to what he wants and this is the shit he’s dealing with? He has confirmation Eric thinks he’s hot and Eric isn’t disgusted with the idea of making out with him and instead he has to deal with utter ridiculousness. He should be used to it by now but he’s not. “This. This is one of those times I want to choke you.”
“Not until we establish a safeword, jerk.” Eric grumbles again but Jack misses it as he stomps down the stairs and plants himself in front of Eric’s view of the TV. “Excuse you, these infomercials-”
“Right now. You offered, I’m taking you up on your offer, let’s go.” Jack knows himself, he knows that he’s mad about this not going how he wanted it to so he’s trying to regain control. In the morning all this brash courage will be gone and he’ll be exactly where he’s been for the last two years. Staring longingly at Eric and never moving forward. It’s now or never.
“Wow you really know how to woo a guy, Jack,” Eric rolls his eyes and crosses his arms, continuing to be huffy.
“You’re impossible.” Jack’s anger makes him stubborn right back so he kneels on the couch to Eric’s side, bracing himself with an arm on the back of the couch. Eric looks sullen but curious as Jack leans into his space and angles his face down, hair cascading into his eyes just right as he gazes deeply at Eric.
“What are you doing?”
“Loving you with my—” Jack tries to croon at Eric but he’s cut off when Eric yells in his face.
“OH my GOD!” Eric slaps Jack on the chest, making Jack shake off his intense staring and sit back on his heels in defeat. “Jacky!” He tries to catch his breath but laughs so hard he snorts which sends him off on to a new set of laughs.
Mortification puts all Jack’s fiery courage out and he feels small and useless.
Besides absolutely demolishing their friendship this was about the worst outcome Jack had imagined. The whole thing was one big joke to Eric, like always. Everything Jack felt was meaningless and this just solidified that he needed to stamp out this whole crush on Eric. He’d have to move, get a new group of friends, figure out how to explain their sudden friendship break up to Shawn and Cory—he hadn’t even done anything and everything was demolished anyway. Rationally he knows his brain is in a sad spiral but it’s been a very long day and he can’t figure out how to stop.
Jack shakes his head, throat getting tight, and starts to get up off the couch when Eric can’t collect himself. “Never mind, this whole thing was stupid, I’m going to bed. We never speak of this again.” A rollercoaster, that’s what the last fifteen minutes have been. Jack’s tired, it’s too much, he can’t hit the lowest lows and the highest highs over and over like this.
“No, hey,” Eric catches his arm and pulls him back on the couch, sitting where he’d been kneeling before. “Hey, hey, hey,” he wipes laughing tears from his eyes and tries to catch his breath.
Jack covers his face in his hands because he can feel his own frustrated tears coming up and what kind of man is he if this is making him cry? It’s ridiculous but none of it went how he wanted and it isn’t even really his fault but it’s all going to get screwed up. He needs a paper bag to breathe into. He’s pre-grieving the loss of their friendship and a boring empty future filled with mistaking indigestion for heart attacks.
“Jacky…” It’s said in the typical wheedling way, trying to pull Jack back into a scheme before Eric realizes it’s not going to work. “Jack? Oh man, aw I’m an asshole, come here,” Eric wraps around him from the side and Jack doesn’t try to fight it. “I’m sorry, that was mean, we can make out anytime, you’re just as hot as us, you’re suuuuuuuuper hot.” He squeezes Jack and rocks him back and forth once while Jack rubs the heels of his hands on his cheekbones and breathes.
“I’m fine, stop it, lemme go,” Jack pushes at Eric and he loosens his grip but just backs up enough to angle his head and try gazing deeply at Jack, who isn’t even looking but can feel it happening. “Eric, NO.” He pushes at Eric’s chin but Eric just twists around and down uncomfortably until his face is nearly on Jack’s lap where Jack has been staring.
“I’m loving you with my eyes Jack, you can’t make me stop,” he wiggles his eyebrows as he maneuvers onto his back and rests his head in Jack’s lap comfortably. “You love it.”
“That is a lie, a heinous falsehood,” He lays a hand over Eric’s face again and looks away to the far end of the couch, thinking about how there’s still time to escape out the door before this conversation takes a turn.
“You love it so much you tried to use my own move on me,” Eric muffles against Jack’s hand. He pokes at the hand enough to peek out between Jack’s fingers. “It was really cute.” Jack huffs at that because no one wants to be called cute, he resolutely doesn’t glance down to Eric. “It was so cute I couldn’t handle it. I’m sorry I laughed, it wasn’t at you, it was because you remembered it.” Eric is gentle in his attempt to move Jack’s hand by tugging at his wrist. Jack lets his hand be moved onto Eric’s chest without a fight and Eric clasps both his hands around it. “Hey.”
“What?” Jack turns his gaze to the fridge where he knows there’s vodka in the freezer. He wishes he had the excuse they were drunk right now but no, this is just normal Eric and overtired Jack, the regular duo.
“Look at me,” Eric says so earnestly and squeezes Jack’s hand in both of his that it makes Jack look down. “You’re my best friend and I love you. If literal witches couldn’t come between us pickles absolutely cannot be our downfall. That’d be pathetic.” Jack gives a watery smile and a half laugh before pulling his hand back to swipe at his eyes again. Eric takes that moment to sit back up normally and give Jack a bit of breathing room.
“It’s not about the pickle-” He’s had a speech planned- a lot of speeches really- for a long time when he thought he’d be the one to bring all of this up so he wants to at least try to get the important bits out.
“I know it’s not about the pickle,” Eric leans in and faux stage-whispers so Jack side eyes him. Eric is gentle again when he uses two fingers to direct Jack’s face towards him.
Jack is suddenly back to pleading with any deity listening but this time he’s asking them to not let him screw this up. “You’re stupid and I really love you,” which isn’t at all what he meant to say but it sums it up well enough. Eric squints at him and purses his lips while wrinkling his nose skeptically.
“But am I hot enough to make out with?” It’s not an honest question, it’s teasing both of them.
“You’re definitely hot enough to make out with, can we please just do this?” Jack shoves Eric’s shoulder because he’s still too nervous to initiate this. Eric catches his wrist and pulls him in close, tossing his head a little like if he still had his long hair it would be falling into his eyes, and angles his face again to pin Jack with his gaze.
“Get used to this look,” Eric wiggles his eye brows, wrapping one arm around Jack’s waist to pull him as close as can be.
“We are never using this move ever again,” Jack snorts and gets over his nerves in the face of ridiculousness. The angle is awkward when he pushes forward for their lips to meet but it doesn’t last long.
“I’m gonna look at you like this all the time,” Eric breaks the kiss to say as he pushes Jack to fall back into the couch so he can try again to level the deep gaze at him again. “When you wake up,” he pushes at Jack again so he’s laying fully on the couch and Eric can try some sort of predatory crawl up his body. “Over your morning toast, when you’re brushing your teeth, tying your shoes-”
“You’re going to hurt your eye muscles if you use it that often,” Jack points out while letting his legs fall apart to make room for Eric. He sets his hands on Eric’s shoulders because he isn’t sure where else to put them, wanting to do all sorts of affectionate small touches to his face and rake a hand through his hair finally but trying to show restraint.
“Eyes have muscles?” Eric puzzles for a moment, hovering finally over Jack’s face before Jack throws restraint out the window. He tugs Eric down for a proper kiss and it feels like a dam in his heart overflows. Eric has talked a big game about his kissing prowess for years and Jack is pleased to find it true, soft insistent, opening just enough that signals ‘anytime you want to involve tongues I’m ready for it’. There’s a faint taste of dill pickle but it fades soon after Jack loses track of the beginning and end of each kiss.
They keep at it, Eric rests his weight to lay on top of Jack so he can change angles and get his own hands on Jack. This just so happens to mean their hips align while Eric slips his hands under Jack’s shirt to run up his sides, causing Jack to arch upwards. Eric’s sweater pulls when Jack’s hands curl into fists on his shoulders and in anticipation of things getting a little hotter Eric uses the help to slide out of it leaving him in a white undershirt while the sweater gets discarded somewhere over the railing above them.
“Do you-” Eric breathes instead of kissing and Jack can’t form words when they could be kissing so he encourages more shutting up by running both hands to Eric’s neck to pull him back. He nips at Eric’s bottom lip and Eric seems to get it when he runs his hands up over Jack’s back in a sweeping motion that rucks his shirt up. Jack’s fingers flex and scritch into Eric’s hair and that seems to hit a button for Eric who pushes his hips against Jack’s. His hands slide back down and grope over the bulge in Jack’s jeans to find and undo his belt.
“Oh god,” Jack’s face falls away to the right and he tries to catch his breath because this is a thing that’s happening now, while the informercial still play on TV. Eric bites a kiss to the side of his neck in parting while he slides down back on his haunches and pops the button and zipper on Jack’s jeans. Jack doesn’t know where to put his hands again because his mind is assaulting him with the idea that something that’s features in his dreams and a few shower fantasies is about to happen. Granted that’s if he can control himself long enough to let it. He brings his hand to his mouth and bites on the joint of his index finger to give his mind something else to focus on.
“What are you doing? Why is that hot? You want me to blow you right? Because you look like you’re in pain but it might be because you’re biting your own fist-” Eric is leveling him with a concerned look but still pulling his jeans open and boxers down while he talks, when Jack’s cock springs free. “I mean, you seem interested but-”
The hand still buried in the hair at the back of Eric’s hair curls and Jack tugs lightly.
“Hhnnn,” Eric makes a ridiculous looking face for a split second, his eyes flutter and his head tips back a little. Jack is concerned that’s his O face so his no-longer-being-bitten hand tries to reach down and find out if this is half over. No luck, as Eric has begun to wiggle down to get into a more comfortable position. He catches the wandering hand and threads it into his hair on the side of his head and Jack’s lizard brain points out that he now has considerable power and control if Eric would approve a face fucking. “I’m a man with needs, make with the head scratches and light hair pulling or I can sit here and just…” Eric tilts his head forward and begins to gaze deeply at Jack harkening back to the same fucking miserable joke that caused this whole thing.
“I’m going to kill you,” Jack groans in a less sexy, more put upon way and Eric laughs, breaking the deep loving eye contact, then stops short.
“Ohhh, is this what you meant way before when you said sometimes you’d like to choke me?” Without any further preamble Eric finally gets a hand on Jack’s erection around the base. “Y’know with your c-”
Jack is only following directions when he tugs Eric forward and rakes the hand through his hair. “Anytime you’re ready,” he raises his eye brows impatiently and nods in a ‘go ahead’ gesture.
Eric may not see any of that because his eyelids drooped at the tug forward that put him right up close to Jack’s straining erection, and he seems to be watching it leak precum when he gives it another gentle squeeze. He licks the head and Jack isn’t sure if it’s tentative in a ‘I’ve never done this to another dude’ way or a curious tasting way. Before his brain spins out wondering if Eric’s done this with anyone else, Eric takes as much as he can and Jack genuinely can’t be bothered to care.
Eric uses one hand at the base and the other he uses to steady himself, curled around Jack’s hip with his thumb in the crease where thigh meets pelvis. He goes a bit deeper, relaxing a bit flexing his tongue on the underside. Jack drinks in the sight of Eric working him, cheeks hollowing when he pulls back, giving this task his full attention in a way things rarely seem to be able to hold it. Eric pauses on one of this pulls back and looks expectantly up at Jack, who only blinks blankly at him. Bushy eyebrows furrow and Eric licks the slit on the head roughly making Jack arch and pull inadvertently at Eric’s hair. Right, he should be putting in some kind of work here.
“Sorry,” Jack rakes both hands through Eric’s short hair and wonders for a moment if they’ll be doing this long enough for the long hair to make an appearance again. There’s an obscene pop when Eric lets him go to lean into touch, eyes closed. Jack tries out a theory and grips the back by Eric’s neck again, the reaction is Eric’s mouth dropping open and head tilting back into the grip, breathing hot over Jack’s dick without meaning to. For all that Jack was feeling out of control before this certainly helps him feel like he’s running the show now. He uses his other hand to get a grip on the shorter front side and Eric groans pushing forward when he grinds his hips into the couch, lips brushing Jack again. The light touch sends shivers down his spine and Jack wants to get his hands on other parts of Eric.
He leads with gentle pressure, pulling Eric up again to catch him in a kiss before his hands dart down to undo Eric’s own belt and jeans. Having seen the ridiculous faces he’s been making, Jack is surprised Eric hasn’t come already, his boxers have a wet spot starting but the hard on that he pulls out from them is still in need of attention.
“I fully support all of the ways we’re defiling this couch but try not to get anything on the cushions,” Jack’s too lazy for involved clean up right now. He tries to wrap a hand around the both of them but doesn’t get far so he stick with working Eric alone. Wanting to return the favor Eric does similarly, nosing into Jack’s neck with a bite that reminds Jack to use his free hand to get back to the hair tugging Eric is so fond of. It doesn’t take long with them pushing against each other and a familiar yet new hand involved, panting into each others mouths to rush to the finish line. Jack goes first and his hand digs in hard enough that Eric follows with a loud moan directly into Jack’s ear before slumping down between Jack and the couch back.
They lay catching their breaths and wiping their hands off on various clothing.
“That didn’t suck,” Jack shrugs while trying to tuck both of them back into their boxers for modesty and the chill of the apartment.
“I could get used to it,” Eric concedes before yawning loudly in Jack’s face
“Alright, up, bed, the couch is not for-” but the yawn is infectious and claims Jack as well, despite him pawing at Eric’s heavy frame. “Okay five minute then we go to actual bed.”
“Sure, sure,” Eric nods into Jack’s shoulder but his eyes are already closed and he’s got half his body draped over Jack, pinning him down.
They end up falling asleep in a heap that doesn’t look any different than if they’d fallen asleep any other night, except with their flys open. In the morning they wake up and things resume, it’s not complicated, there’s just details that Shawn desperately wants to get out of Jack now.
Jack doesn’t tell him any but Eric happily over-shares enough for both of them.