Chapter Text
Jack stepped out of the bathroom fully dressed, hair dripping onto his shirt. He found Miles sprawled out amid the clothing piles in Jack's room, laptop plugged into one outlet, wireless internet modem to another and a strange, smaller box attached to the second outlet nearest the doorway. The laptop was small, much thinner than Jack's outdated brick, and showed a series of command boxes on screen that Jack didn't recognize. Miles glanced up when he came in, smiling sheepishly.
"I didn't do anything illegal, I swear," he closed one of the programs down without looking, smiling winningly. Jack managed a smile that bordered on disapproval.
"I'm serious, if you get yourself arrested or kicked out of Arizona before you're old enough to drink, I'll beat you into next week," Jack replied threateningly. Miles grinned.
"That's only if I get caught," he retorted, closing the laptop and sitting up. Jack gave him a warning glare before seating himself on his bed.
"So," Jack slapped his legs with both hands, looking around the room. "What do you want to do on your first official day in Cactus Land?"
"See the sunset," Miles said soberly. Jack rolled his eyes, mouth twitching.
"I mean right now, seeing as its only nine in the morning," he replied dryly, pointing to the sun outside his tiny window. Miles nodded seriously.
"Arizonian breakfast," he said extravagantly, deadpan. Jack stared at him for a second before ducking his head, shoulders shaking. "What? I want special across-the-country breakfast!"
"Okay, okay," Jack chuckled, shaking his head and stepping into his sneakers. "One special Arizona breakfast, coming right up."
Jack took him down to a little diner near the apartment complex. There were other rooming buildings around it, most empty of guests. The parking lot of the small eatery was empty as well, and Jack grinned at Miles's reluctancy. The area around them had once been a tourist's place, but many had moved out for the more popular hotels nearer the mountains and legendary scenery views. The regulars in the diner waved as Jack led Miles in and Jack saluted back, resisting the urge to reach back and grip Miles hand as if to stake his claim. Most of the clientele were elderly, and Jack felt rather stupid for wanting to do so, but the urge remained until they sat themselves in the corner.
"It doesn't look like much, but the food is really good," Jack murmured as one of the waitresses, a slim, tanned college student, came over with two menus and cups.
"Morning, Jack," she drawled, a slight Texan tang in her voice. Her dark eyes lingered hungrily on Miles. "Who's your friend here?"
"Hey, Miranda," Jack reaffirmed his desire to mark Miles as his, but kept his voice cool. "Miles, this is Miranda, the least wrinkled waitress within five miles." Miles smiled at her politely.
"Don't be a dick, Jack-off," she replied smoothly, slipping Miles one of her seductress smiles. "Your friend is pretty cute, I want to talk to him." The seduction hit Miles like water would hit a concrete wall; little to no effect, water draws back as if offended. Jack narrowed his eyes and grinned almost viciously at her.
"I'm not that cute," Miles grumbled, looking away. He sounded offended as well, not a bit of mischief or humor any more, and Miranda drew back further.
"Well gorsh, I just like making conversation," she rolled her eyes, smile sliding away. "I'll be back with coffee, don't pee ya'self while I'm gone." Miles raised an eyebrow at her back.
Jack looked proudly at the brunette. "She's just mad because you didn't start drooling like a dog at her feet." Miles frowned almost darkly.
"She called me cute," he replied, miffed. "And she makes stupid jokes. How old is she anyway?" Jack blinked at the amount of scorn Miles held in his voice.
"A year younger than me," he said carefully, taking off his sunglasses and folding them onto the table. "She's not completely dumb. And you are cute." Jack hoped to not incur the wrath of the tiny conqueror. He also made a mental note to save that phrase for later; it fit Miles's small frame like an evil little glove.
To his surprise, Miles flushed and fiddled with his napkin. "It's different when its you," he said plaintively. "She seems like an emptyheaded prostitute. I mean, who goes up to other people's friends and hits on them?" Jack never made it past the "you". He all but purred with delight. It was seeming like he needed to stake no claims with Miles after all.
"Some girls," Jack answered loftily as Abigail, the seventy-odd regular waitress arrived for their order and coffee. Miles watched interestedly as Abigail leaned down to whisper to Jack that Miranda was sulking in the back. Abigail took their orders with much less winking and smiling, but she elbowed Jack on her way back through the mostly-barren diner. Jack grinned into his mug.
"I guess everyone knows you here," Miles said quietly, sipping at his coffee as well. He said this a bit wistfully.
Jack shrugged and nodded. "Mostly. In here, its the regulars who stay to eat. The town kind of supports itself like that." Jack frowned slightly when Miles nodded, ducking his head. "Don't you live in a smaller town as well?"
Miles looked slightly uncomfortable. "Y-yeah, but with my parents... My last name kind of drove people off. I didn't have a lot of friends growing up because my parents told me kids would be after our money and to watch out. Of course, they didn't tell me that I would not need to guard our fortunes from menacing six year olds, so I scared a lot of them off." Jack nodded in understanding, although he could not really imagine having parents that paranoid about their kid and their money. "Suffice it to say, people knew my name, but they wouldn't talk to us."
"Stay around long enough and you'll have the old ladies pinching your cheek and telling you how their granddaughters are living not terribly far from here and are going to nice parties that are open to newcomers," Jack muttered as another elderly couple walked in. Miles broke his moroseness with a small, devilish grin.
"Didn't you tell them you prefer little boys?" he whispered, waggling his eyebrows. Jack's jaw dropped indignantly.
"I'm sorry, who is the one hunting down and assaulting old men?" Jack shot back defensively, acting wounded. Miles dropped a dirty wink.
"I like 'em mature," he purred, cutting off with a look of shock and disgust as one of the older men hobbled his way past them to the rest room. Jack covered his mouth as Miles dropped his head to the table, looking horrified.
"All them wrinkles," Jack said from the corner of his mouth, sniggering. Miles covered his eyes and shuddered.
"Never mind," he mumbled, taking a strong gulp from his mug. "Don't let me open my mouth anymore."
"Oh, but where's the fun in that?" Jack chuckled, freezing with his coffee at his lips. His tone had been more of, how you say, an innuendo than he had intended. Miles snuck him a condescending smile.
"Bad Jack, we're in public." Miles kept his eyes in his coffee, grinning slyly. Jack avoided looking at him, pressing his lips together.
"I merely meant," Jack gestured freely with his fork, dropping it and snatching it off the table when it clattered loudly. He kept his eyes away from Miles, who was biting on his fist to keep from laughing. "I only implied that listening to you dig yourself into holes with your own mouth-"
"You're bordering on explicit here, friend." Miles narrowed his eyes. "What would the ladies think?"
"IF you want to verbally shoot your own foot, is really what I mean to say." Jack finished, correcting himself once again. There were too many accidental and horribly, barely funny gay puns in his entire retort that he pursed his lips and put the fork down, deliberately silently. Miles snorted and had to look away as the old man returned from the bathroom.
"That was really bad," Miles said after they got themselves under control.
"It was," Jack agreed, shifting in his seat and praying that the other customers hadn't heard anything.
"But hey," Miles continued after a short pause. He was biting one finger as he spoke. "If you wanna commence shoving yourself into holes, I won't stop you." Jack snorted and put his head down.
Pancakes for Miles and an omlette arrived some time and a few bad jokes later and most of their conversation ceased as they dug in. Jack looked up from his plate once to see Matt shoveling blueberries and pancake into his mouth. He noticed and glanced at Jack, green eyes innocent over his bulging cheeks. Jack shook his head. Every time he thought Miles couldn't get any cuter or any more perverted, he was (gladly) proven wrong. Jack smiled to himself and finished his omlette, thinking he hadn't had more fun inside the diner than he had that morning.