( #002 ) FAKE MARRIED AU

[chatona]

the 'fake married' meme

be it for a job, in order to get your inheritance or to fool your nosy neighbours, you are pretending to be married. now the question is, do you want it to be real or can you hardly wait for it to be over?

Comments

[unfavorably]

[ Trust that if there is any opening for Jack to have a terrible reaction, he's going to do just that. There's a lot about himself and about his past that he doesn't like to discuss, and certainly doesn't like being thrown back in his face in the loosest or most literal sense of the word itself. His past is no one's business. If Jack is honest, he doesn't even want his past to be his business. Forgetting the trials he went through, or the terrible choices he made, or any of the bitter, bad things that rest just beyond the horizon of his memories, is definitely his preference. But, unfortunately, he knows things don't exactly work out that way. He's being forced to face all of his demons now, whether he likes it or not.

It does, of course, give him mind to wonder if Brock is meant to do this to him. Force him into personal reflection and make the attempt to right any of the wrongs inside the cobwebs of his mind. He's having a difficult time with it, however, and more often than not, winds up getting irrationally angry and down right vicious with Brock sometimes. Perhaps the strangest thing from that is that Brock still hasn't turned away from him. He just accepts that Jack is this way, sometimes feeds into the anger, sometimes throws it right back, and sometimes — like now — he soothes it like a balm.

This wasn't how things were supposed to be. (Or maybe they were, but that also requires an amount of personal reflection that Jack isn't quite ready for, either.)

The moment Brock starts speaking, Jack knows he's not going to want to hear this. Not that he's expecting something bad, but he knows it's something raw and unfiltered — just how Brock is. So, when the request comes, Jack doesn't look up. Not yet. He's not really ready for what he might see there waiting for him. Already this mission is making him feel weird and strange things, putting thoughts inside of his head that have no business being there, and the last thing he wants to do is see those things reflected in Brock's eyes.

But, he looks. He looks because Jack's been unable to deny himself anything since leaving Gilboa. And though he might not want to see what he suspects is there in Brock's eyes, he wants to know if it's there or not. His mind tells him he has a right to know. So, he looks, and he feels a twist of something in the pit of his stomach, feels the tingle of warmth bloom from the depths of his heart and spread outward over his entire body. The only saving grace of that mortifying reaction is he manages to keep his features schooled into an unreadable expression.

It's a difficult thing to hear, one he wants to believe down to the very bottom of his soul, but he doesn't know if he ever will. As much as Jack puts up the front that he is fine with himself, that this is how he is and there's no apologies for any of it, there are times when he just doesn't like who and what he is. And there's really nothing he can do about it besides just live with it. For several moments he remains quiet, staring at Brock, then shifting his gaze down to their hands. Jack would never say anything, but he likes the way that Brock makes him feel. There are times when he thinks that thinks might actually turn out okay.

Still, there's a part of Jack that can't accept this for what it is and he must skirt around the issue. So, he sighs and drags his gaze back up to Brock's face. ]

I think this mission has turned you into a bit of a dramatic.

[ As much as he'd like for his words to be chiding, they aren't. And that point is made even further by Jack shifting on the couch so he's closer, turning more into Brock and bringing his other hand up to rest against his cheek. It's used as small leverage to turn them toward each other so he can capture his lips in a slow, burning kiss. His movements are purposely slow, wanting to get as much out of that kiss as humanly possible. ]

[skulland]

[ Brock does not, in any way, want to encourage self-reflection. If he starts prodding Jack along that path, he’s going to have to follow suit, and life’s taught him in its most heavy-handed manner that his destination rarely matches up with that of anyone else. If he starts poking around in the depths of his shriveled, shrunken heart, he’s going to find undeniable proof of what he already knows and just blithely pretends to ignore.

He cares about Jack a lot. Not the prince of Gilboa and the trappings of power that come with the title. Not the promise of some inheritance should he ever come back into possession of it. Just Jack. Just the spoiled, petty, pissy, contrary, bratty, arrogant, selfish little shit that makes up Jack Benjamin.

Because he sees what’s under all that armor. He’s sees the hurt Silas and Rose have caused, the wounds that don’t heal and the scars that haven’t faded. And sometimes, when he least expects it, he catches glimpses so fleeting of who Jack might have been that he thinks that he might be imagining them. It’s those might-have-been moments that make who he is now all the more poignant and, at times, painful. It’s wearing on him, undermining all of the callousness and distance and cool disinterest Brock’s held toward the world at large. Worse than that, it’s making him love him.

And it’s getting harder and harder to live with Jack every day and pretend that he doesn’t. This mission is both a relief and a challenge, pretending that he loves the man he pretends he doesn’t love by letting himself love him openly and pretending that it’s fake. Even for a double-agent, it’s getting a little complicated.

Explosion or deflection: those are the two options from which he suspects Jack’s reaction to his words will come. Vitriol and anger or blasé mockery. It’s like rolling the dice, gambling for no prize at all, yet Brock can’t help watching Jack look at him, and then their hands, with bated breath. Waiting with a curious sense of anticipation.

Deflection, he thinks, as he hears the sigh and the words that follow. He’s about to roll his eyes, deliver some equally sarcastic retort to strip the residual weight from the declaration that he’s made, when Jack takes him by surprise with that kiss. And does it again a second later, when the kiss turns out not to be a quick, fiery affair that scrambles his mind with lust, but the kind of slow burn that makes his chest ache in ways he’s still not accustomed to.

Perhaps it’s too soft, too tender, to cradle the back of Jack’s head in his palm, but the kiss lends itself to the gesture and Brock doesn’t hesitate and overthink it. He just moves with the moment, sliding an arm around Jack’s waist and shifting closer as he surrenders himself to his mouth. There’s no fight in him, no need to direct the speed or the intensity of what they’re doing. Brock gives it over to Jack without even a hint of protest. There are other things he means to communicate than his strength, and he tries now, using lips and tongue to say without words all of the things he won’t allow himself to think, much less voice.

When the need to breathe forces him to pull back to steal a hurried sip of air, what he does voice is as flippant as what Jack had. ]

You think this is dramatic? [ Another quick intake of breath and he leans forward again, brushing his lips against Jack’s in a way that’s clearly, undeniably a caress. The effect’s only slightly ruined near the end, when Brock’s lips twist into a grin. ] Wait until you hear my vows.