The Magpie's Death

Dada Jack (2)

Sam laid still on his back, breathing heavy, with Jack curled between his arm and chest. They were hot and sweaty and sticky, but he'd never felt better. This was a good mistake.

"I can't believe you bought condoms," he said after his lungs had filled enough to speak. He huffed out a small laugh and pulled Jack closer.

Jack chuckled and kissed his shoulder. "I've always been optimistic." Another, longer kiss lingered on his neck. "It was good, right?"

Sam nodded, his heart rate slowing and breathing becoming steady. It was more than good. They were both more prepared this time, in every way, and it was better than anything he'd experienced before. He rolled to his side, engulfing Jack in his grasp. Messy, red hair brushed his chin. As the strands parted, the lingering smell of shampoo mixed with sweat filled his head.

"Oh, hell no," Jack's muffled voice chided, speaking into his chest. "We're still talking. This is the second time we've done this and you still haven't even told me you like me. I've only made it to 'not a mistake.'"

"It's still a mistake. I just don't care anymore."

Jack sighed and pushed back, a small frown on his face. "That's not better." It took barely a second for him to give in and the frown disappeared. "Fine. I'll go first..." His fingers traced Sam's jawline to his chin. "I understand who you are. You have a bad self-image, based on a past I don't know, but that past is gone. I know who you are now, and that's the person I like." He smiled, soft green eyes shining. "Though, I think you've always been that person."

There was quiet and Sam was sure Jack wouldn't ever really know. He said "optimistic," but really, he was kind and hopeful and innocent. It was one thing to tell someone who you were and another to actually live it. Jack was able to see a different side of him – one he hadn't even realized existed – but he wasn't there for the dirty, violent mess that was the rest of his life. He couldn't help thinking that someday, sooner or later, he would see the monster he hid inside. Would he be able to say those same words then? Would he remain hopeful and innocent?

"Well?" He felt a poke in his side, bringing him out of his daze. "It's your turn."

"What do you want me to say?" he asked, genuinely unsure of Jack's expectations. Whatever he needed to hear, Sam wanted to tell him, but he had no idea how to start.

Jack sighed, always frustrated with him. "That should be your decision. But you can start with what you're so afraid of and why you've been avoiding this."

Even though he wouldn't go back on his decision, saying it out loud somehow made it all real. Sam couldn't help hesitating. Out of everything, this moment seemed like a dream. He wished the dream could be real and that he could pick and choose what to leave behind when he woke up.

"Well?" Jack asked, gently poking him again.

There was no way to make this something it wasn't, so Sam said the first thing on his mind.

"Being with me makes you a target. It forces you into a world no one should be part of." He pulled Jack tight to his chest. If only that was all it took to keep him safe. "I'm worried I won't be able to protect you if something happens."

"But you said yourself that you're skilled at your job," Jack pointed out, his words trapped under heavy arms and stifled against a wide chest. "From the way those men were talking, everyone else agrees."

Sam rested his forehead against Jack's, feeling the fear again. "Do you know why I was the best at what I did?" He didn't want to tell him, but he needed him to understand. "Most people hesitate before they do something cruel. Before they kill someone. It's involuntary. The subconscious forces them to think first and make a decision before taking action."