[Yea, he gets that. It's less well-realised outside of Brooklyn but a significant chunk of Spot's fierceness was always in defence of somebody he cared about - that was how Spot showed he cared. He understood the need to step in to defend somebody who couldn't defend themselves]
Sorry.
[He mutters the apology without thinking when Jack flinches away, and when he resumes he's even more careful than before]
You're an idiot, Kelly. You shoulda had backup.
[But he's not judging, not really. He's just mad Jack got himself hurt. There's something else, too, something he knows he shouldn't ask but it's just there hovering over him and he can't help himself]
[Ah. One of the harder questions, then, and he doesn't answer right away. Just watches as Spot cleans him, over and over, his hands so terribly careful.]
The hell do you want me to say?
[It's rough, but not angry. Just tired.]
Why the hell do you think? I'm--
[Why didn't he go to David? David doesn't give a shit about power, he would have taken him in . . . but ah, Davey doesn't get it. He might, someday, but for now, no. And the boys at home would fuss, and he'd lose power, but that's not a reason either. He's charismatic enough to get it back. It's just--]
[The explanation hits him like a punch in his gut and he stills, one hand still wrapped around Jack's, holding it still, the other clutching its cloth stopping just millimetres away from the broken skin of Jack's knuckles. He shouldn't have asked, doesn't know why he did, he already knows that answer, he feels it in his soul - but he has no reply, nothing he can say, not out loud.
Nothing that won't shatter the fragility of this moment, that won't ruin... won't ruin what? It's a long enough time since they've gone to one another that you couldn't say there was anything between them, anymore, not really. Only it still hovered there, making Spot's chest ache in ways he refused to acknowledge. There's nothing to ruin but his own reputation, and Spot clings to that like a shield, even if he did trust that Jack would never repeat anything Spot said to him in private.
So he finishes cleaning up Jack's knuckles and drops the soiled cloth aside, reaching for the bandages. When he finally does speak, he doesn't acknowledge Jack's words]
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branchandroot
no subject
Date: 2020-05-02 10:51 pm (UTC)Ah
[Yea, he gets that. It's less well-realised outside of Brooklyn but a significant chunk of Spot's fierceness was always in defence of somebody he cared about - that was how Spot showed he cared. He understood the need to step in to defend somebody who couldn't defend themselves]
Sorry.
[He mutters the apology without thinking when Jack flinches away, and when he resumes he's even more careful than before]
You're an idiot, Kelly. You shoulda had backup.
[But he's not judging, not really. He's just mad Jack got himself hurt. There's something else, too, something he knows he shouldn't ask but it's just there hovering over him and he can't help himself]
Why'd you come here, Jack?
no subject
Date: 2020-05-03 05:38 am (UTC)The hell do you want me to say?
[It's rough, but not angry. Just tired.]
Why the hell do you think? I'm--
[Why didn't he go to David? David doesn't give a shit about power, he would have taken him in . . . but ah, Davey doesn't get it. He might, someday, but for now, no. And the boys at home would fuss, and he'd lose power, but that's not a reason either. He's charismatic enough to get it back. It's just--]
Who else can I go to, Spot?
You're the only one.
no subject
Date: 2020-05-03 08:02 am (UTC)[The explanation hits him like a punch in his gut and he stills, one hand still wrapped around Jack's, holding it still, the other clutching its cloth stopping just millimetres away from the broken skin of Jack's knuckles. He shouldn't have asked, doesn't know why he did, he already knows that answer, he feels it in his soul - but he has no reply, nothing he can say, not out loud.
Nothing that won't shatter the fragility of this moment, that won't ruin... won't ruin what? It's a long enough time since they've gone to one another that you couldn't say there was anything between them, anymore, not really. Only it still hovered there, making Spot's chest ache in ways he refused to acknowledge. There's nothing to ruin but his own reputation, and Spot clings to that like a shield, even if he did trust that Jack would never repeat anything Spot said to him in private.
So he finishes cleaning up Jack's knuckles and drops the soiled cloth aside, reaching for the bandages. When he finally does speak, he doesn't acknowledge Jack's words]
I gotta wrap your ribs up now.