☞ your grace is wasted in your face

[stomped]

who jack + isaac
what modern au!
rating r-ish
warnings boys doing things.

It's simple when it happens. He meets a man who goes by "Just Jack" in a bar and his entire life sort of swirls out of balance and into some amalgamation of skin and bones and teeth and hands. Jack has rough hands, scars on the uneven ridges of his knuckles and scars up his arms, long streaks and little pinpricks like you might see in the snow left from animal and man alike. They try not to fall into bed the first night together, but Jack has a hand on his waist and Isaac has fingers in his hair and they are kissing, all teeth and clumsiness. They make it to Isaac's place and he fumbles with the key while Jack is hiking up his shirt to get at more skin. They fall inside and they do it once on the couch, then once on the kitchen table, then against a wall, and finally Iaac laughs, a low and curling thing like black smoke.

"Bed," and it is one word that Jack can agree with.

In the wan light of three or four o'clock, as they lay quiet and heavy, Isaac rolls himself over and listens to the creak of the mattress and the rasp of Jack's breathing. He turns his head and kisses slow on the bend of his elbow, counts in his head. Isaac knows what it is like to have scars, and Jack seems to like reminding him, pushing him gently down no long after, as if a teasing fight, keeping him pinned (almost kindly) and letting his tongue linger slowly on the long strip of his back, scarred in a long and winding strip.

They twist in the sheets a little more, arching and falling and when they fuck this time, Isaac mentally calls it making love because Jack slides hands down his hip bones and presses in to the hilt and out in slow and languid movements that make Isaac sigh and dig his heels into him until they come down together with their fingers touching and Jack's nose trailing the line of his throat--the softness of fleeting kisses in his wake,

-

Jack says during breakfast (coffee, eggs, hot cereal, ham, and a cigarette) that we live life based on our own choices. We must always make sure that they are our own choices. Never any one else's. Never.

Isaac is pouring himself a cup of coffee and turning around to sit on the counter, perched with his legs swinging slightly. The kitchen is small, so when he lifts his leg to swing, his toe catches Jack in the shin and Jack's hand comes down to grab his ankle playfully, fingers strong, digging, almost bruising, but he likes the bite of pain and how bone rubs on skin and leaves a mark.

He eats the rest of the eggs straight from the small pan (it's just the two of them and Jack doesn't give a shit it seems) and the ham that's laying in next to it. He makes toast for himself, but gives one of the two pieces to Jack, who is insatiable in his hunger. He kisses him slow after breakfast, long and lingering with motes of dust highlighted in the tiny window of the kitchen. Jack kisses like he's never kissed anyone else in life and Isaac kisses like he's shy, darting forward and pulling back.

Ultimately, Jack stands between his legs, kisses him rough and unkindly, but not on purpose, only out of hunger. He's young and Isaac lets the mug in his fingers fall into the sink. He's young and he'll leave and he tries to tell himself that he's not particularly upset about it.

(He is.)

-

Isaac works at a small auto repair and body shop down Thistle Street, the one with the broken up concrete and the sounds of loud swing music playing from the speakers. He's elbows deep in a car with grease on his face and under his nails. He looks like maybe the Toyota wants to swallow him whole.

"Found you," a voice says and Isaac nearly slams his head against the propped up hood, turning around and seeing Jack with a small smile on his face, taking long and even strides. Isaac goes back to his work and rolls his eyes.

"Like I was ever lost," he says.

"What's this."

"Work."

Jack signs and leans agains the vehicle and for a moment Isaac considers asking him what he does for a living. Instead, he opts for silence and the sound of moving things around and replacing them. Jack is patient and hardly in the way and when he is done, a wet towel is thrown into his hands, leaving him quiet as he wipes the grease off slowly and starts to mosey towards the sink..... Idk what comes next