[It's a few hours later, after the supply closet, after the demon chase, after the almost something.]
Where are you! [There's a snarl to his voice, but Jack's not possessed. It's his own anger, viciousness, but something else. A little fear.] Fucking answer me!
[ a minute or two passes, and it's someone that sounds very much like johnny but isn't entirely him, not really. he's not fully possessed yet, putting up one hell of a fight and making life miserable for the demon that's trying.
but halfway. he's just about halfway there. ]
Well, if it isn't Prince Charming. Were you worried?
[ For once, Johnny and the demon trying to take hold are interested in what Jack seems to be planning. The other man sounds strange, and he wonders if he's possessed, too.
Not yet, the demon tells him, and laughs. And Johnny wants to burn the damn thing alive. He's waiting by the wall, grimacing before the demon comes to the fore again. ]
[Jack even looks possessed, the snarl on his lips enough to show teeth. Johnny's words register in the back of his mind. It's almost the sort of thing that he'd say, but not quite.
He keeps coming anyway, and he doesn't stop even when he's right on top of him. Jack pushes him roughly back against the wall, and for a second it looks like he might punch him.
He crashes their mouths together instead, lips pressed har against Johnny's before he can say anything about it. There's a touch of violence in the kiss too, Jack gripping him hard enough to leave a bruise, tongue and teeth taking part. Jack's breathing hard by the time he draws back, and it's only then that all expression and color drain from his face.
He suddenly looks uncertain. Even guilty, like Johnny's a breath away from accusing him.]
[ The kiss is unexpected, taking Johnny by surprise as he's forced back through astounding force. There's a flash of worry that Jack might be possessed after all, wild and feral and fierce as he corners him and kisses him fully, the force and passion behind it an incandescent thing that leaves Johnny speechless. Jack is a man used to fighting and winning, Johnny thinks dazedly -- but it's enough to give the demon more of a foothold as it shakes its head and smiles. ]
Oh, look at that. I think this body likes what you do to it.
[ The smile is wicked, sharper than what Johnny usually does, even as he leans forward wolfishly.Johnny renews his fight again, but for now the demon has the upper hand, and somehow it' fascinated with Jack, too. ] Your guilt and shame is delicious. Are you worried he won't reciprocate?
[This body. That's when Jack realizes it, and he thinks back to that something that was a little off when he responded earlier, something that ended up buried under Jack's emotions, his anger and his panic. He's so tired of being selfish.
He sighs and hangs his head, his forehead nearly touching Johnny's chest.]
Johnny. Can you hear me? [He ignores the demon. He won't give it anything more to feast on, not when he's a living buffet of so many negative emotions.] You can't get sick, you can't be poisoned. You told me, remember? That's because you can burn those things out of your body. [Jack looks up, tries to look past the gleam in the demon's eyes and deeper into the other man, to the soul that he knows is bright and good. A hero's soul. The hands on Johnny's shoulders grip tight. He'll hold him in place if he has to. He'll go up in flames and maybe for a moment he can be a hero too.] This thing is a poison. Burn it out!
[ The demon temporarily in control of Johnny's body laughs, a mocking sound that doesn't belong to him at all -- Jack presses so close that Johnny churns underneath the surface, fighting to claw back control, and in the demon's arrogance and evident fascination with the smorgasbord of negative emotions Jack carries, said demon momentarily forgets about the host's soul.
Johnny is listening, immediately concerned about the fact that Jack is standing so close, that it's dangerous, because what's worse than possessing him is that thing jumping into Jack. The prince's words inspire a fresh wave of strength, a powerful surge that Johnny builds upon as he hears those words from faraway. ]
He can't hear you, pretty boy. He --
[ The demon falters, surprised and momentarily stunned before his cruel mirth becomes a slow burn of anger as he focuses his attention on Jack; and it's clear the demon's fighting a war on two fronts, inside -- and with Jack. ] I should kill you myself, little prince. After I rip your tongue out.
[ But then his body temperature is ratcheting up in evident response to that threat, and the demon hisses, the orange-red glow flaring before dissipating, too quick to burn; but it's something, the first volley of what's to come. Johnny's only just getting started. ] Or maybe I should burn you alive and make him watch.
[He can hear him. The demon's faltering, its anger, it becomes an open wound for Jack to pour salt in. And he has so much salt. He smirks despite those threats.]
Go ahead, we've already talked about that. [How it would forever bind them together, making him Johnny's new purpose in life. Your very own personal god, Jack had said. Give him a beautiful death an he won't have one single regret. He feels the heat in the other man's body, enough to make a trickle of sweat bead an roll down the back of his neck, but he doesn't retreat.] Burn me. You'll follow soon enough.
[ There is a powerful resistance in Johnny, a denial that forces itself through the demon's unwilling defenses, bred from years of careful self-control (hidden depths, you see). Your own personal god, he remembers, but Johnny would rather die than let it go that way. Jack's death is not something he ever wants on his conscience, the burst of strength he employs to push Jack away.
Not so close, and that gives him a foothold to surge upwards, to will his body to burn hot and bright, flaming on with a yell clawing out of his throat, the unnatural scream of the demon as he burns brighter, hotter, every cell in his body incinerating the alien force that invades it. The heat is searing, overwhelming, and he hopes Jack isn't too close still when he vanquishes the thing.
It's gone before he knows it, the dark cloud dissipating from his thoughts, himself, and he's slumped over on his knees, breathing hard. ] Jack?
[It's terrifying and beautiful, watching Johnny burn so hot that he's a bright white light instead of the usual yellow and orange of flames. Jack lifts his arm to help shield his eyes, but he doesn't look away.
He's knelt nearby, sweaty and a little singed at the edges of his clothes. There's charred skin across the back of his hand. But he'll live.]
There you are. [Jack's voice is careful, controlled. But it softens with his next words.] Are you alright?
[ What Johnny sees horrifies him. He sees the singes, the charred skin on the back of his hand -- what he sees is what he's done to Jack, not that he'd finally fried the damn thing that's been invading his psyche and his senses like a disease.
He doesn't catch the softening in those words, not yet, because what he sees is how easily Jack could've been killed, burned alive; and the idea makes him sick. ]
What the hell, Jack? What'd you think you were doing? You could've died!
Something worth dying for. [Jack shoots it back automatically. But it's incomplete, because now he has to admit to Johnny what it was. He has to admit it to himself.] Saving you.
[Getting that thing out of his skin, because he couldn't take the thought of it standing on Johnny's neck, using his voice and his body for its own despicable means while the better man watched. Not him, not ever.]
[ For once, Johnny is impatient to get off the subject of him. He's sure the whole possession thing will sink in later and mess him up, but right now all he can focus on is the charred back of Jack's hands, and he steps towards him, frowning.
Does Jack really think saving him is worth dying for? He files that away in his head to review it later; right now the foremost thought in his mind is that -- ]
You're not. [ And the guilt sits right in his chest, heavy and aching for reasons he can't quite understand yet. ] We need to get that looked at.
[It's agonizing, but Jack is quick and good with his lies, and equally as impressive with his expression. Not an ounce of the pain bleeds into any of it. The fabric of his coat has been made brittle by the heat and tears easily now. Jack rips a strip from it and wraps it around his hand, as much to keep Johnny from seeing it as anything.]
It's not my dominant hand. [He glances up with a smirk.] Just the one I like to get off with.
[ Does Johnny look like he thinks that's funny? Because he doesn't. In fact, he's more serious than he's ever been, and don't think he doesn't miss the fact that Jack's wrapping it up. It still bothers him, and he doesn't smile at that joke, quietly worried.
He's studied up on fire-based injuries, worked out how to take care of them in case the unthinkable happens, and he steps closer, catching a hold of his unhurt wrist. ]
[Come on, Johnny, laugh at his dirty joke. Jack gets to his feet, taking a step closer instead of trying to break free. He looks into his eyes, the blue of them darker, heavier than normal.]
No. [Jack maintains that eye contact while he catches the end of the strip between his teeth and finishes wrapping it that way.] Do you think you can kiss it and make it better? Unburn it? You can't, and I wouldn't have you do it anyway. It's a small sacrifice that I've made for you, a gift rather than a hardship. Accept it, Johnny.
[Because he doesn't expect him to accept anything else.]
[ Johnny still hasn't processed the kiss, but that's not on the forefront of his mind, not when he's fixated on his hand and what he's done. Jack, making a sacrifice for him, giving him this? He swallows hard when Jack gets closer, and he's more aware than anything of how that mouth felt against his own.
Had he kissed him out of vengeance, anger, or something else? Does Johnny really want to know? Can he afford to? Something flutters in the pit of his stomach, and his mouth is dry. ]
A gift? You could've gotten yourself killed. Did you really want to die that badly?
Is that what you really believe? That it was little more than a suicide attempt?
[Jack snorts, but something akin to hurt flickers across his face before he can bring it back to neutral. He wanted to be a better man, he wanted to do something heroic, he wanted to save someone that he's grown to care for. But in the end, maybe it still looked like something done to serve Jack's interests. And maybe he has no one to blame for that but himself.
Now he pulls his hand free, eyelids heavier than before.]
You of all people don't have the right to ask anyone that.
He can see the flash of it in those bright green eyes, so painfully obvious in that fraction of a second that Johnny's caught off guard, startled.
Jack looks younger than he's ever had in that moment, vulnerable, and Johnny had just about stuck a knife in. ]
I'm sorry. [ He says at length, because while his first instinct is to argue his point, something tells him that that particular approach will only make things worse. He swallows. Jack is the last person he should take his anger out on. ]
You brought me back, and you got hurt because of me. I owe you.
[Jack continues watching him, the anger fading from his face. The pain too - probably. Jack's expression is softer, but unreadable again. He swallows hard, his voice uncharacteristically soft when he finally does speak.]
You don't owe me a thing.
[He doesn't want it to be a matter of debt between them.]
The worst seems to be over now. You should go home.
[ Johnny says firmly, taking his wrist and leading him forward. He's not taking no for an answer. Jack's saved his ass, given him the strength to fight the possession anew. He feels filthy, dirty from the inside, and he doesn't want to be alone. Jack makes him feel complicated, uncertain, and that's better than dealing with what's been inside him, right? ]
We are getting that tended to. I know where we can get some medical supplies, so let me do this for you. Please.
[That's a feeling that Jack's familiar with too - not from possession, but from his father's words.
But Jack's sigh is evidence of his capitulation. Johnny's not going to stop, and while Jack can be stubborn with the absolute best of them, he can't do it when Johnny's wearing the expression that he is, far more pleading than demanding.]
[ Johnny really doesn't want to fight him on this, and he's relieved when Jack capitulates; apparently asking really nicely helps, after all. ]
C'mon. [ He doesn't let go of him, taking him to one of the stores and snagging some of the medical supplies. Shortly after, he's taking Jack to his room and locking the door, away from the madness and the chaos, and he gestures to a chair. ]
[Jack tilts his head, gaze dropping like he's thinking about what those legs would look like in a skirt. He sits down, unwrapping his hand again and holding it up for Johnny to see the back of it.]
[ Johnny quips, ever the smartass because that's just who he is, and not even something like this is going to stop him. But he doesn't miss the way Jack looks -- and he's not sure if the man is joking, or if he's seriously thinking about him in a dress.
He inspects the damage, moves about with the dressing and the ointment to attend to him carefully. It's many minutes later that he's finally happy with his handiwork, with Jack's hand carefully bandaged up with clean dressings. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
voice
Where are you! [There's a snarl to his voice, but Jack's not possessed. It's his own anger, viciousness, but something else. A little fear.] Fucking answer me!
voice
but halfway. he's just about halfway there. ]
Well, if it isn't Prince Charming. Were you worried?
voice
Where. Are you.
[He repeats the question with emphasis on every word.]
voice
Jack --
[ something switches gears ]
Are you coming to me?
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He's coming to where Johnny is, so determined that it's almost instinctual.]
Stay where you are.
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Not yet, the demon tells him, and laughs. And Johnny wants to burn the damn thing alive. He's waiting by the wall, grimacing before the demon comes to the fore again. ]
You look good enough to eat.
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He keeps coming anyway, and he doesn't stop even when he's right on top of him. Jack pushes him roughly back against the wall, and for a second it looks like he might punch him.
He crashes their mouths together instead, lips pressed har against Johnny's before he can say anything about it. There's a touch of violence in the kiss too, Jack gripping him hard enough to leave a bruise, tongue and teeth taking part. Jack's breathing hard by the time he draws back, and it's only then that all expression and color drain from his face.
He suddenly looks uncertain. Even guilty, like Johnny's a breath away from accusing him.]
What? You do whatever the fuck you want.
[So why can't he?]
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Oh, look at that. I think this body likes what you do to it.
[ The smile is wicked, sharper than what Johnny usually does, even as he leans forward wolfishly.Johnny renews his fight again, but for now the demon has the upper hand, and somehow it' fascinated with Jack, too. ] Your guilt and shame is delicious. Are you worried he won't reciprocate?
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He sighs and hangs his head, his forehead nearly touching Johnny's chest.]
Johnny. Can you hear me? [He ignores the demon. He won't give it anything more to feast on, not when he's a living buffet of so many negative emotions.] You can't get sick, you can't be poisoned. You told me, remember? That's because you can burn those things out of your body. [Jack looks up, tries to look past the gleam in the demon's eyes and deeper into the other man, to the soul that he knows is bright and good. A hero's soul. The hands on Johnny's shoulders grip tight. He'll hold him in place if he has to. He'll go up in flames and maybe for a moment he can be a hero too.] This thing is a poison. Burn it out!
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Johnny is listening, immediately concerned about the fact that Jack is standing so close, that it's dangerous, because what's worse than possessing him is that thing jumping into Jack. The prince's words inspire a fresh wave of strength, a powerful surge that Johnny builds upon as he hears those words from faraway. ]
He can't hear you, pretty boy. He --
[ The demon falters, surprised and momentarily stunned before his cruel mirth becomes a slow burn of anger as he focuses his attention on Jack; and it's clear the demon's fighting a war on two fronts, inside -- and with Jack. ] I should kill you myself, little prince. After I rip your tongue out.
[ But then his body temperature is ratcheting up in evident response to that threat, and the demon hisses, the orange-red glow flaring before dissipating, too quick to burn; but it's something, the first volley of what's to come. Johnny's only just getting started. ] Or maybe I should burn you alive and make him watch.
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Go ahead, we've already talked about that. [How it would forever bind them together, making him Johnny's new purpose in life. Your very own personal god, Jack had said. Give him a beautiful death an he won't have one single regret. He feels the heat in the other man's body, enough to make a trickle of sweat bead an roll down the back of his neck, but he doesn't retreat.] Burn me. You'll follow soon enough.
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Not so close, and that gives him a foothold to surge upwards, to will his body to burn hot and bright, flaming on with a yell clawing out of his throat, the unnatural scream of the demon as he burns brighter, hotter, every cell in his body incinerating the alien force that invades it. The heat is searing, overwhelming, and he hopes Jack isn't too close still when he vanquishes the thing.
It's gone before he knows it, the dark cloud dissipating from his thoughts, himself, and he's slumped over on his knees, breathing hard. ] Jack?
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He's knelt nearby, sweaty and a little singed at the edges of his clothes. There's charred skin across the back of his hand. But he'll live.]
There you are. [Jack's voice is careful, controlled. But it softens with his next words.] Are you alright?
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He doesn't catch the softening in those words, not yet, because what he sees is how easily Jack could've been killed, burned alive; and the idea makes him sick. ]
What the hell, Jack? What'd you think you were doing? You could've died!
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[Getting that thing out of his skin, because he couldn't take the thought of it standing on Johnny's neck, using his voice and his body for its own despicable means while the better man watched. Not him, not ever.]
Now are you alright?
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[ For once, Johnny is impatient to get off the subject of him. He's sure the whole possession thing will sink in later and mess him up, but right now all he can focus on is the charred back of Jack's hands, and he steps towards him, frowning.
Does Jack really think saving him is worth dying for? He files that away in his head to review it later; right now the foremost thought in his mind is that -- ]
You're not. [ And the guilt sits right in his chest, heavy and aching for reasons he can't quite understand yet. ] We need to get that looked at.
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[It's agonizing, but Jack is quick and good with his lies, and equally as impressive with his expression. Not an ounce of the pain bleeds into any of it. The fabric of his coat has been made brittle by the heat and tears easily now. Jack rips a strip from it and wraps it around his hand, as much to keep Johnny from seeing it as anything.]
It's not my dominant hand. [He glances up with a smirk.] Just the one I like to get off with.
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He's studied up on fire-based injuries, worked out how to take care of them in case the unthinkable happens, and he steps closer, catching a hold of his unhurt wrist. ]
Let me see it.
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No. [Jack maintains that eye contact while he catches the end of the strip between his teeth and finishes wrapping it that way.] Do you think you can kiss it and make it better? Unburn it? You can't, and I wouldn't have you do it anyway. It's a small sacrifice that I've made for you, a gift rather than a hardship. Accept it, Johnny.
[Because he doesn't expect him to accept anything else.]
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Had he kissed him out of vengeance, anger, or something else? Does Johnny really want to know? Can he afford to? Something flutters in the pit of his stomach, and his mouth is dry. ]
A gift? You could've gotten yourself killed. Did you really want to die that badly?
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[Jack snorts, but something akin to hurt flickers across his face before he can bring it back to neutral. He wanted to be a better man, he wanted to do something heroic, he wanted to save someone that he's grown to care for. But in the end, maybe it still looked like something done to serve Jack's interests. And maybe he has no one to blame for that but himself.
Now he pulls his hand free, eyelids heavier than before.]
You of all people don't have the right to ask anyone that.
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He can see the flash of it in those bright green eyes, so painfully obvious in that fraction of a second that Johnny's caught off guard, startled.
Jack looks younger than he's ever had in that moment, vulnerable, and Johnny had just about stuck a knife in. ]
I'm sorry. [ He says at length, because while his first instinct is to argue his point, something tells him that that particular approach will only make things worse. He swallows. Jack is the last person he should take his anger out on. ]
You brought me back, and you got hurt because of me. I owe you.
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You don't owe me a thing.
[He doesn't want it to be a matter of debt between them.]
The worst seems to be over now. You should go home.
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[ Johnny says firmly, taking his wrist and leading him forward. He's not taking no for an answer. Jack's saved his ass, given him the strength to fight the possession anew. He feels filthy, dirty from the inside, and he doesn't want to be alone. Jack makes him feel complicated, uncertain, and that's better than dealing with what's been inside him, right? ]
We are getting that tended to. I know where we can get some medical supplies, so let me do this for you. Please.
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But Jack's sigh is evidence of his capitulation. Johnny's not going to stop, and while Jack can be stubborn with the absolute best of them, he can't do it when Johnny's wearing the expression that he is, far more pleading than demanding.]
It isn't necessary. But alright.
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C'mon. [ He doesn't let go of him, taking him to one of the stores and snagging some of the medical supplies. Shortly after, he's taking Jack to his room and locking the door, away from the madness and the chaos, and he gestures to a chair. ]
Okay, sit. Let me see it properly.
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[Jack tilts his head, gaze dropping like he's thinking about what those legs would look like in a skirt. He sits down, unwrapping his hand again and holding it up for Johnny to see the back of it.]
I don't think amputation's going to be necessary.
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[ Johnny quips, ever the smartass because that's just who he is, and not even something like this is going to stop him. But he doesn't miss the way Jack looks -- and he's not sure if the man is joking, or if he's seriously thinking about him in a dress.
He inspects the damage, moves about with the dressing and the ointment to attend to him carefully. It's many minutes later that he's finally happy with his handiwork, with Jack's hand carefully bandaged up with clean dressings. ]
There. At least now you won't get it infected.