Koschei keeps his eyes averted, but they are tack-sharp, and he absorbs every syllable Jack speaks.
At length he nods once more, but this time it is singular and decisive.
“Right. Of course. That’s our thing, isn’t it.”
He continues to contemplate this truth as he’s bundled and tucked in with his husband.
When they’re tented together, in secret communion, free from the intrusions of the universe, and he’s tracing his finger along the perfect contours of Jack’s face, a smile creeps up one corner of his mouth.
“Really. Really, though? Can you really not know what a jealous baby I am, when it comes to you, my Sam?”
Those beloved dimples suddenly appear at his touch, and Jack turns his head to kiss his palm. Yes it is their thing, and it’s one of the very many precious things that makes him value their relationship so much. Never has he ever felt comfortable to be so honest, nor has he ever felt like he was given the same in return. Even as they know each other better and better, he never wants to lose that founding principle.
“There’s knowing, and there’s knowing,” he laughs. “Plus who doesn’t like a little reminder every now and then?”
Koschei’s gut twists in a knot at the sight of Jack’s dimples; he’s certain his husband is well aware of their effect.
Vivacity and desire seize him. He becomes self-assured again, when his husband offers that sheepish explanation. Seeing someone so utterly shameless abashed is peculiarly arousing.
So he climbs upright and slams Jack flat on his back, drapes himself across him as he did drunk out of his skull on their very first actual date, and kisses him hard. Their lips are red and swollen when he’s done, and he takes care to tickle his husband’s ever clean-shaven cheeks with his own stubble.
All beneath a tented tangle of sheets, somewhere sweetly between a slumber party and a tryst.
“I am a JEALOUS! BAAAAABY!” he roars, shamelessly.
Without a doubt, kindness that comes without being “earned,” kindness for its own sake, as much because Time Lord society predicates the value of its members on their achievements and performances as because he is “innately” a cruel person (though compassion does not come to him naturally unless he has known you for a very long time).
Koschei looks over the rim of his reading glasses at his husband, skeptically amused.
“Is this your latest ploy to get me to abandon my project and come to bed?”
“Maybe.”
“Is it working?”
Koschei tucks his glasses in his shirt collar, strolls over to Jack and seizes him by the front of his own shirt. He pulls him close and ferociously kisses him.
Then, like an asshole, he puts the glasses back on.
“No.”
Like an asshole whom Jack clearly is utterly devoted to, which is exactly why he bends down and in one swift gesture, grabs his husband around his waist and throws him over his shoulder. He’s far too attached to be put out so easily.
“Tough.”
Koschei barks a laugh, and smacks Jack on the ass as he’s carried to bed.
Koschei looks over the rim of his reading glasses at his husband, skeptically amused.
“Is this your latest ploy to get me to abandon my project and come to bed?”
“Maybe.”
“Is it working?”
Koschei tucks his glasses in his shirt collar, strolls over to Jack and seizes him by the front of his own shirt. He pulls him close and ferociously kisses him.
Then, like an asshole, he puts the glasses back on.
“Koschei,” Jack says, a pained smile on his face. Some of these truths hit a little too close to home, and he holds him ever tighter because of it. “I was never your first choice either. Even now, there’s parts of you that I’m never gonna be able to touch because they’re so entwined with the Doctor. You can’t tell me that, in all those infinite possibilities, there isn’t a version of you that doesn’t even remember who I am, let alone regrets that year on the Valiant.”
These are things he tries so desperately not to think about, not because he can see these alternatives like Koschei can, but rather because he can simply feel it in his bones. He’s not a Time Lord, he can’t visualise the Web of Time like they can, but Jack knows people. He knows how they work, and he can see alternatives that way. And he just knows that, had the cards fallen just a little differently and fate hadn’t been so kind, that he would have ended up alone. Forever.
“Maybe we weren’t each other’s first choice, not at the start,” he says, slowly and quietly and thickly as he feels a lump in his throat starting to swell. “But we are now, and that’s what matters. I would choose you over anyone and anything, no matter what, from now until the final day I die.”
Koschei is scarlet with a rarest emotion–shame–before Jack has even finished gently leveling with him. He nods, at first slowly, then frantically, and places his hand on the center of his husband’s chest, fingers fanned. He looks up into eyes like a tropical sea, bottomless blue glass, eyes that have always dazzled him.
“I know, I know all this. Please forgive me. I spoke in weakness, and it really … really isn’t a reflection of how I feel about us.”
He scowls at himself, puzzled, bewildered by such peculiar grasping uncertainty, after their years of marriage and children.
“Can you forgive the sickness of my mind? The … bizarre moment of doubt that’s almost like … like seasickness of the head.”
He nuzzles his immortal, bunts his forehead into his chin, lifts his face and kisses it, and then his mouth, pleading.
“You are my first choice, you are. You are my forever choice. I’m so sorry, you’re hurt now, I can feel it. It was self-absorbed to just speak so thoughtlessly of my own pain.”
How he’s grown, in his husband’s company.
“Darling, I can forgive you anything. I can and I will,” he says, a smile starting to form on his face.
“Listen,” he says, cradling him close and wishing not for the first time that they could simply meld into one physical form. “We’re going to hurt each other. That’s just how it goes, especially in relationships like this. I’d much rather you speak freely with me than to always guard your words for fear of hurting me, okay? We’re solid, rock solid, and no matter the hurt, I can always trust us, I can always trust you. Thank you for telling me that, I know it’s never easy.”
It really is extraordinary how he’s grown, and Jack’s in constant awe of seeing the development of his husband, feeling more than just pride in his husband’s evolution. He buries them back down on the bed, pulling the covers over them both to create one more barrier to hide them from the universe that keeps intruding on their happiness.
“You know, seeing how upset you got over the thought of us not being together was actually very reassuring,” he admits, quietly, like a guilty little secret shared between lovers.
Koschei keeps his eyes averted, but they are tack-sharp, and he absorbs every syllable Jack speaks.
At length he nods once more, but this time it is singular and decisive.
“Right. Of course. That’s our thing, isn’t it.”
He continues to contemplate this truth as he’s bundled and tucked in with his husband.
When they’re tented together, in secret communion, free from the intrusions of the universe, and he’s tracing his finger along the perfect contours of Jack’s face, a smile creeps up one corner of his mouth.
“Really. Really, though? Can you really not know what a jealous baby I am, when it comes to you, my Sam?”
Icarus 