Work Text:
Appealing to the diverse and ever-changing residents of LA is a vicious gamble. Finding the location for El Rey de Café took an entire year of scouting reasonable places to rent near Echo Park. Countless favors from his sisters and their spouses were cashed in, but the hard work paid off in the end. For five years and counting, Gabriel’s little coffeehouse has been open and doing well.
Some mornings it was too good to be true. He’d be grinding the ethically sourced coffee beans for that day’s nine A.M. rush and suddenly be struck with the realization he did it. It took some help, but he succeeded.
Today is one of those mornings until someone knocks on the glass. His head shoots up and he gives a two-finger salute to Ana and—standing right behind her—Jack. As usual, Jack perks up when his eyes meet Gabriel’s and he gives a tiny wave and stands a bit straighter. God, you’d think someone who looks like a star quarterback wouldn’t be such a dork, but Gabriel wouldn’t change a single thing about him.
“Morning,” he says, his customer service voice an octave lower as he unlocks the door. He glances at his watch. It’s a minute after eight. “Sorry for the wait.”
Jack chuckles, knuckles to his lips like he means to cover it up. Ana tuts. “Young man, I demand to speak to your manager.”
The two tease and banter back and forth until they reach the register, only to pick back up again after Ana tells him what tea blend she’ll have today. She takes a deep inhale once the ceramic mug is in her hands. Looking absolutely pleased with her decision, she raises her mug in gratitude and pats Jack on the shoulder, making her way to a table.
“Let me guess: you owe her one, Indy?” Gabriel asks, catching Ana’s thumbs-up in the background. God, whatever shenanigans these two get into always results in Jack picking up her tab. He never seems to mind, though. Jack grins and turns his face away as he scratches at his sunshine yellow hair. Its perpetual state of being mussed up in a way that looks effortless and purposeful is an art. Gabriel catches himself staring and clears his throat. “Still want your regular?”
“Yeah, that’ll do.” Jack nods and their eyes meet. “Thanks, Gabe.” The sincerity in his rough voice is sweet. While their interactions are limited to either morning coffee or Thursday nights, Gabriel has a good sense about people. Jack’s air of integrity isn’t an act: he’s a bona fide nice guy, even if he's a white boy who lacks taste.
Crafting a double-blended triple-shot iced caramel dirty chai extra whip abomination for Jack is muscle memory after making it almost every day over the course of a year. Gabriel nearly hands it over, but at the last minute snatches the abomination from Jack’s clutches, leaving an open question on his face in exchange. One dash of cinnamon and drizzle of caramel later, and it’s handed back—ready for consumption.
Most days, Jack lingers at the register until someone else walks in. Today is no different as he asks how business is going and if his daughter is excited about winter break starting tomorrow.
“Her mom is dropping her off on Monday to spend a few days with me before they fly to visit her family,” Gabriel says with a perfunctory smile. While this isn’t the first Christmas he hasn’t spent with Laura and Val, it doesn’t make the pain of being only part of the picture easier.
“Just the two of them?”
Gabriel shakes his head, unwilling to admit Val’s former-boyfriend-turned-fiancé is going to Spain with them to meet her folks. They hated Gabriel when they met him, but they’ll probably love the successful cookie-cutter lawyer Val is settling on.
Jack frowns and picks at the mountain of whipped cream on his dirty chai. He uses the straw to spoon some into his mouth and doesn’t balk in the presence of Gabriel’s judgment. “She’s going to miss you.”
Something tight beneath his sternum eases its painful hold. The reassurance helps, and Gabriel squeezes Jack’s arm in gratitude. Even without the details, Jack always knows just what to say. While it's hard to imagine him and his social awkwardness in front of a group of people, Gabriel can also see how his earnest and good-intentioned nature lend to a natural charisma benefiting his position as a project leader at the local community center.
“You guys doing anything special for the season?” Gabriel asks, leaning on the counter. Summer and winter break as a kid usually involved him and his sisters getting dropped off at the community center. This time of year meant Christmas cookies and trees to decorate, along with festive arts and crafts to be done. God knows Gabriel made enough glitter pinecone ornaments for two trees every season.
“No, not this year. My boyfriend—er. Ex-boyfriend. He—” Jack blanks mid-sentence. “Oh my god, you meant for the—yes. Yes, we’re doing stuff.” He gulps down enough of his icy beverage to give anyone a brain freeze. Hilariously, it reminds Gabriel more of a person doing shots than enjoying their coffee. “Yes. Right. You should come by. Bring Laura.”
“Get your head on straight, Morrison,” Gabriel says, playfully admonishing him. For once, he’s the one making bad puns and Jack has the gall to groan at him.
Still, Jack’s offer is tempting. Gabriel isn’t much for late nights when he has to open the next day, and with Jack working a nine-to-five job, their schedules clash. It’d be the first time they’ve hung out outside of the coffeehouse.
“I don’t know if thirteen-year-olds still think arts and crafts are ‘cool,’ but let me know what date it is. If it’s before she leaves..." Gabriel combs his fingers through his beard, scheming. "I can't promise I'll have a kid with me, but maybe I can volunteer or something.”
"Could always use the extra help," Jack agrees, sipping his beverage at a more agreeable pace. Gabriel shoves his hands into his apron pocket and leans back as he takes a good look at Jack, who is once again fishing out the whipped cream at the bottom of his cup. It's cold for a December day in LA, and Jack is wearing a blue leather jacket. It must be new, he thinks idly. Persian blue is a great color on him.
For a second, the air feels charged, and Jack looks like he has something to say. He misses his chance, the bell at the front door ringing as two new customers walk in. Gabriel greets them.
"We can talk more when I kick your ass tonight, cachetón," he promises in a low voice while the women review the menu.
Jack grins and pats Gabriel’s hand placatingly. "Don't count your chickens, Reyes." He steps to the side and sets his empty glass on the counter before rejoining Ana.
A large part of adulthood has been making promises Gabriel couldn’t keep—his wedding vows, plans with his daughter, assurances to call. But Jack Morrison is the kind of man that inspires you to do better, be better. As far as Gabriel can tell, if Jack makes a promise, he follows through. And if Jack puts his mind to something, it's as good as done.
On nihilistic days, it sounds exhausting. On better days, it’s charming. Today is one of the better days as Gabriel watches Jack leave, admiring the view. It’s about an hour after the morning rush has died down and Ana and Jack are long gone that it dawns on him: Jack mentioned an ex-boyfriend. Jack dates—or dated—men. And Gabriel made a pun about being straight.
It’s all he can think about for the rest of his shift.
For the most part, Gabriel gets his winding thoughts about Jack’s not-straightness under control by six—just in time for El Rey de Café’s weekly game night. Several times he tries to untangle and understand why his brain keeps circling back to Jack, but he doesn't like any of the possible explanations. Gabriel didn’t care when two of his sisters came out—one as bi and another as a lesbian, the latter going on to eventually marry a woman. He hadn’t even blinked when she asked him to be in her wedding.
Of course, that doesn't excuse him from being a homophobe, but as a straight guy, he doesn’t feel threatened by Jack’s possible gay tendencies. Besides, Gabriel is Mexican, for Christ’s sake. Unfounded hate came with his dark skin. He’s no better than racist assholes if being bi or gay or whatever Jack identifies as bothers him.
The first person to arrive is Reinhardt. He bursts through the door with a greeting and crushing embrace. The guy is a foot taller and half as wide as he is long. He makes Gabriel’s hard-earned muscle and six-foot-one stature look like nothing.
“My friend! How are my newest creations faring? Well?” Reinhardt ducks down to inspect the case. Only a few raspberry-iced rosemary cronuts remain from that morning's delivery by Lionheart’s Bakery. Reinhardt laughs, slapping his own knee gleefully at the sight. “Ah, yes! Another success!”
Gabriel chuckles. “As if you had any doubts.” The comment earns him a hearty slap on the back. If he hadn’t braced for it, he would be finishing this conversation on the floor.
“You know me too well, Gabriel!” This time, the pat on his back is softer. Gabriel isn’t one for small talk, but Reinhardt has no issues filling in the silence by regaling him with today’s adventures of taste-testing a new rose and pistachio pastry he’s coming up with. “If all goes according to plan, my friend, they’ll be in our store by the end of the week!”
Gabriel scratches his goatee. “That’s not very… Christmas-y, is it?”
The moment Ana walks in the door, Reinhardt’s manners tighten up considerably. He stops his defense mid-sentence in favor of taking Ana’s hand gently and lifting it to his lips for a small kiss.
“Miss Amari,” he says kindly. Ana responds with a hand on his forearm, and Reinhardt obediently crouches down so she can reach his cheek for a quick peck hello.
“You look good, Reinhardt,” she says, gazing up at him. Reinhardt practically overheats at the compliment. Whether she meant to or not, Ana Amari successfully stuns the booming man into silence.
The whole thing is as ridiculous as it is cute. The two have been dancing around each other for nearly three years. They met at the shop while Reinhardt was making a delivery and Ana was enjoying her cup of morning tea. The moment she left, Reinhardt was extremely vociferous about his plans to court her. Either he’s taking his time, or the older man wasn’t so brave after all.
Torbjörn is next to arrive, bristling about the traffic and the fact he had to drive in it. Reinhardt’s composure is out the door as soon as the short man stomps into the small establishment, the giant rushing in and scooping up his friend in a spinning embrace. Torbjörn’s demands to be put down sound fierce, but he’s mostly bark with little bite when it comes to his friends—especially Reinhardt.
His gruff, but polite, “ma’am” in Ana’s direction is punctuated with a handshake. Gabriel gets his usual nod of acknowledgment before Reinhardt and Torbjörn step away to catch up and call dibs on Cards Against Humanity.
Gabriel groans, slapping a hand over his eyes. “Why do they go for that game every single time? Neither of them win, and then we have to hear about it later.”
Ana, the champion, raises a judgmental eyebrow. “Are we being a sore loser, Gabriel?”
“Not winning isn’t the same as losing,” he argues. He’s come close to defeating her on several occasions—it’s a feat worth mentioning in and of itself.
A few others that Gabriel doesn’t know as well come in, and after he takes drink orders, he joins Ana, Torbjörn, and Reinhardt on the sofa and grabs eight cards.
Fifteen minutes later, the bell on the door chimes and Gabriel looks up to see someone who is decidedly Not Jack. The next fifteen minutes are torture as he waits for someone else to bring up their missing party member. The refusal to come across as clingy dissipates immediately once Torbjörn breaks the silence.
“Anyone hear from blondie?” he asks, grabbing another card and squinting at it as if he can’t believe what he’s reading.
“You have his number, right Ana?” Gabriel asks, whipping around in her direction. “You should text him. Make sure nothing happened.” He leans back in his chair, aiming for composure. On the inside, he’s coming up with a list of a thousand misfortunes Jack could have run into.
Ana waves it off. “If you’re so worried, I can stop by his apartment tonight if you need me to.” She maintains eye contact as if daring him to say something.
Flustered, Gabriel can’t confess that that’s exactly what he needs her to do, if only for his peace of mind.
The conversation moves on to holiday plans and time off. Since Torbjörn has somewhere around a hundred kids, he and Ingrid are staying home and doing something quiet—or as quiet as they can get. He always smiles when he talks about his kids, proud of each and every single one. He’s a great dad, from the sounds of it, and Gabriel can’t help being a bit jealous. Reinhardt’s plans involve stopping by the Lindholm’s for dinner and gifts. Ana’s only child is flying up north to spend it with her father, which Ana doesn’t seem very torn up about. It probably helps that she’s spending her childless Christmas in Hawaii.
With Gabriel’s mother back in Puebla and his sisters scattered to the winds, there aren’t plans for him to divulge to the others.
He allows his attention to be drawn elsewhere. Off to the side, two patrons are caught in a game of chess, the crudely taped board between them. On Jack’s first game night, he taught Gabriel how to play with little success. Gabriel tried not to care about his losses, citing the fact it was a game for old white men and therefore didn’t matter. However, the next day he fell down the rabbit hole, studying different tactics and playing games against computers. The following Thursday, Jack was initially delighted by the idea of a challenge, but that delight twisted into something vengeful when he lost for the first time. In the end, their competitive streaks had gotten so out of hand that Ana and the others officially banned the two from playing any one-on-one games with each other.
That night proved Jack could be just as competitive and petty as he was and he loved it.
For the rest of the evening, Gabriel plays the part of the host—albeit a distracted one—and loses one round after another.
Jack never shows up.
Attempting to will away the disappointment with a goddamn lie doesn’t help. Gabriel can tell himself Jack is just a customer all he wants but it doesn’t make him feel better.
Jack is his friend. They trash-talk and have silly board game rivalries. He listens and gives thoughtful responses and optimistic hard truths on Gabriel’s bad days, no bullshit attached. Despite an inclination for cynicism, Gabriel suspects Jack doesn’t actually want anything but companionship and coffee abominations in return.
Hell, Jack might be one of the few people he trusts, and here he is trying to convince himself he’s just a customer.
Pendejito, he hears in his mother’s voice as he’s doing the floors. Stop moaning about your cachetón and get to work.
Balancing the handle of the mop against a table, Gabriel pulls out his flip phone and opens it. It’s useless to glare at the screen but he does just that, trying to summon Jack’s number. Whenever he had something to tell Jack, he just relied on seeing his goofy face the next day. Besides, texting sucks with T9, and no one likes talking on the phone nowadays. Getting numbers isn’t a thing Gabriel does anymore.
Closing takes an hour longer than usual. Once finished, Gabriel locks up and walks to his car, hands in his hoodie pockets. Most of the businesses nearby had their decorations up after the first, and here he is—mid-December—and still debating whether he wants to go through the trouble at all. He’d gone all out for Halloween this year with ghost-themed china, pumpkin lights, plastic gravestones, and fake spider webs. Doing something like that again for a less important holiday sounds exhausting—especially if he’s doing it alone.
Jack loves Christmas, Gabriel remembers—he’d said so himself. Maybe he wouldn’t mind putting up a tree and lights with help. After all, Jack did say he didn’t have anything planned this year.
Gabriel stops dead in his tracks.
The news of Jack’s possible interest in men had taken a backseat to the paranoia and concern. Once he reaches his car, he rewinds their conversation in his head, trying to pinpoint a moment where he said something wrong. Did he make a face? Gabriel doesn’t think so, but what if he did? Maybe it was a minuscule change in expression or a look in his eyes that offended Jack. Gabriel deals with microaggressions all the time, but not for his sexuality. Did he do something wrong? Was it the pun?
Fuck. Jack is avoiding him. Now it all makes sense.
It was easy with his sisters—the words “my girlfriend” came up in conversation and they kept talking. They didn’t talk about it, though. Was he supposed to? Or was not saying anything better? He wasn’t trying to not acknowledge it, but it didn’t seem important at the time—not that it was unimportant. Unless it was supposed to be…?
Hands to his head, Gabriel pulls his beanie over his face and groans. His mind is tearing up as it goes a mile a minute, and he’s about to peel out of the parking lot so he can go straight home and put his stupid ass to bed when he realizes his wallet isn’t on him.
Dragging his feet like a petulant child, Gabriel is 100 percent done with the day by the time he’s unlocked the shop’s front door. The last place he checks—his apron—happens to be where his wallet is hiding.
Locking up for the second time in one night, he hears the patter of running shoes behind him. Hackles up, he prepares himself in case it isn’t some jogger. The hand on his shoulder is what gets him to turn around, ready for a fight.
“Listen—” he starts. The streetlight behind the figure casts hard shadows over his face, but Gabriel would recognize that Grecian nose anywhere. “Jack?”
Jack smiles, hands on his knees and panting lightly. “Gabe. Gabriel,” he says between breaths. “I didn’t think you’d still be here.”
With a weary expression, Gabriel adjusts his beanie. “Well, I work here. And shit needed to get done. So.”
“Yeah, yeah of course—”
“Where were you?” he blurts. The regret is immediate. Jack doesn’t owe him any answers. He’s just a customer, maybe a friend, maybe—
“A stupid budget meeting is what happened,” Jack grumbles. Clearly, it hadn’t gone well. “It was supposed to be out by six, but then I—we—got talking and I lost track of time. I was going to be only an hour late and stopped to get gas, but I locked my keys in the car, and apparently, everyone in fucking LA decided to lock themselves out, too.” He drags a hand down his face. “AAA was going to take forever, but I came by just in case and saw your car was still in the parking lot.”
“How do you know which one is my car?” Gabriel asks slowly, eyeing him with suspicion.
Jack folds his arms across his chest, hips jutting off to the side. “It has a bumper sticker on it that reads, ‘Some people are alive because it’s illegal to kill them.’”
Hearing him say it out loud makes Gabriel cackle. The mood softens and Jack drops his arms and guard, scratching at his own cheek.
“Aw, don’t be embarrassed,” Gabriel coos, “I’m flattered.”
“Don’t be.”
“Did someone miss me?”
“Not anymore.”
“I think you missed me,” he says in a sing-song voice, leaning in. The situation catches up with him, adding a new meaning to all the times he’s touched or jokingly flirted with Jack. Gabriel scratches at the back of his head, shame filling him. Did he ever make Jack uncomfortable?
He tugs at his beanie, pulling it over his ears. It might be the combination of running and his pasty white-boy skin, but Jack’s face is red as hell. The tension between them is new and unpleasant. If Gabriel was dealing with anyone else, he’d wait it out until something snaps, but this is Jack and Gabriel is tired and wants to put his worry and self to bed.
“So... we’re good?”
“Yeah, of course,” Jack says stiffly, which means he’s lying and Gabriel can’t leave without knowing why.
He bites the bullet and presses on. “I mean, I didn’t do anything wrong with like… the gay thing?”
Jack stares, incredulous and unblinking. “Uh, no?”
“Or not gay thing. Your thing. Whatever you like. You mentioned a boyfriend? I didn’t want you to think I wasn’t… okay with that.” Gabriel clears his throat. He shuffles around before leaning against the wall, sweating through his shirt while aiming to look calm and collected. “No problems here.”
“And you’re saying… you’re okay with that?” Jack repeats slowly. His brows are furrowed, clearly thinking hard about something. “Did you… want to do something about it…?”
Do what about what, Gabriel has no idea, but his exhaustion-addled mind doesn’t think to ask for details. He spreads his arms and shrugs. “Like I said, no problems here, Jack. I’m all for it.”
Jack seems to consider him and something about the situation for a beat. Stepping into Gabriel’s space, he looks ahead with determination. From this distance, Gabriel can see how long his eyelashes are. The light catches his eyes, reflecting blue— a true blue, Gabriel corrects himself. There’s a dusting of freckles he’s failed to notice until now, and the more Gabriel looks at him, the more freckles there are to count.
A warm hand on his cheek guides him into a kiss. It’s been years since he’s had this, but he knows a talented mouth when it’s pressed against his, encouraging and responsive. It’s a little dry for his liking, both their lips chapped, but he doesn’t have to think—they move so well together. Gabriel tilts his head and the kiss deepens.
It isn’t until his hands clutch at Jack’s tight shirt that he realizes who he’s kissing. Sure, he’s made out with other guys before, if hazy drunken memories are to be believed. It was fine, but nothing worthy of causing some great sexual awakening. Gabriel dated women, and the few little crushes he had on hot actors didn’t mean he wasn’t straight. Probably.
Alarm bells blare in his brain. He can’t tell what they’re for—good or bad.
Using the hands pressed to Jack’s chest, Gabriel eases out of the kiss. The dopey grin plastered on Jack’s face drops as soon as he realizes he’s being gently pushed back.
“Was I… not supposed to kiss you?”
In a state of shock, Gabriel answers honestly, “I don’t think so?”
Jack backs up, looking like he’d love nothing more than to escape, but he paces in a small circle instead. His hands go to his perfect hair, tugging on it with an agonized look and a litany of “shit shit shit” under his breath.
Gabriel raises a halting hand, processing. “Give me… give me a second.”
Eyes wide with panic, Jack nods and stands perfectly still. Gabriel can feel the heavy gaze watching his every movement, searching. Eventually, Gabriel plops down on the sidewalk, eyes tracing over the cracks methodically. There’s only one question in his head right now.
“Why ?”
Jack finally blinks. “Why what?”
“Why now?”
“I thought you were… when you said ‘I’m all for it,’ I—God, Gabe. I let myself jump to conclusions—I wanted to jump to conclusions.” Jack drops to the sidewalk with his head in his hands, confessing. “ You’re the first person I’ve wanted to kiss since Vince, and I wanted to know if you…”
One of his hands peels away from his face, allowing their eyes to meet. “You.” He rubs his chin, voice shaking. “I wanted you.”
Huh, Gabriel thinks. His body feels like it’s a mile away. Guess cachetón did want more from me after all. For some reason—maybe because it’s Jack or maybe it’s the shock—it doesn’t bother him right now.
How much he’s okay with it is the million-dollar question. It’s been years since he’s had any romance in his life, and even longer since he’s cared about someone like this, but Gabriel knows when something is right. His intuition hasn’t let him down yet, even if his self-awareness needs some work. It felt good—Jack’s calloused fingers pressed to his cheek, the prickly five o’clock shadow against his skin. Up close, he smells like evergreens, dirt, and sweet ozone with an undertone of Axe—which is… questionable, but not unappealing.
Good. Yeah. It was good.
The sidewalk is cool against his palms as he sits under the night sky, Jack watching him and trying not to get caught. Gabriel crooks a finger, gesturing to come closer, and Jack scoots until they’re almost knee to knee.
“Can I try something?” Gabriel says.
Jack doesn’t ask what. He agrees without hesitation as if trusting Gabriel is as natural as blinking.
He grabs Jack’s face with both hands and leans closer. His palms slide down to map the muscles in his throat and trail to his collarbone. Spreading his fingers, he can feel the warmth radiating through Jack’s shirt. He’s never denied that Jack is hot—he has eyes, after all—but knowing Jack wants him makes him giddy and leaves his mouth dry. Which… probably isn’t very heterosexual of him. He’s been flattered before by people he isn’t attracted to, but this isn’t that.
“Gabe...” Jack exhales, and Gabriel notices that same determination—not as heady as before, but still resolute. Jack wants him, and despite himself, Gabriel is beginning to realize he wants Jack, too.
Hand cupping the back of his neck, Gabriel encourages him to meet in the middle. Jack is notably cautious and chaste at first, slow and tender. He takes Gabriel’s free hand in both of his and interlocks their fingers. Jack is sweet, and it’s nice until Gabriel decides to test his own boundaries by opening his mouth and using his tongue to coax Jack into doing the same. He surrenders in a heartbeat, squeezing Gabriel’s hand all the while.
Making out with someone you like in the middle of the sidewalk reminds Gabriel of growing up, of summer break and not winter. It reminds him of infatuated teenagers like his daughter, not grown-ass men exploring their sexualities at forty.
They kiss until the angle makes their necks hurt. Taking the initiative, Jack removes his hands and gets on his knees to move closer, but the difference in height as Gabriel continues to sit is too substantial. He drags Jack down by his collar and surges up, kissing hard and messy.
Nice was fine before, but now he wants all of it. All of Jack, every last bit.
It won’t do that Jack is keeping his hands to himself. When Gabriel murmurs, “You can touch me,” in a husky voice, Jack is more than eager to oblige. He drags his hands up and down Gabriel’s front, over the swell of his chest, gliding over a sensitive nipple—the barrier preventing skin-to-skin touch absolutely infuriating. Gabriel grumbles, and Jack gives an inquiring hum.
Being touched by Jack is exhilarating, but Gabriel is lost on what to do for him in return. Meanwhile, Jack is busy kissing the corner of his mouth, under his jaw. The pulse in Gabriel’s ears is loud, nearly drowning out their heaving breaths. When Jack bites his ear—careful of the gauges—Gabriel jolts from the unexpected and dangerously pleasant sensation. Reflexively, his arms clutch at Jack’s waist, pinkies hooking around his belt loops and pressing their bodies together.
The hard line of Jack’s dick is warm through his jeans as it presses into Gabriel’s stomach. The observation is thrilling—despite his inexperience, Jack is still getting worked up from this. The muscles of his lower abdomen involuntarily clench. He turns his head, trying to catch Jack’s lips with his, and when that fails, Gabriel uses his hands to direct him.
When Jack stubbornly pulls back and sucks two of Gabriel’s fingers into his mouth, Gabriel thinks he could take Jack home that night. He presses the thumb of his free hand into the middle of Jack’s thin bottom lip. The sexy fucker releases his fingers with a pop! and allows Gabriel to hook his thumb over his teeth as he holds Jack by the chin. Jack bites down on his knuckle, hot tongue teasing the pad of his thumb, and Gabriel’s imagination takes him to Jack in his bed, his cock in his mouth.
“Jack—” he murmurs, barely recognizing his own wrecked voice. “Jack.”
A car drives past them, reminding Gabriel they are in a very public area right in front of his place of business. The two freeze at the same time, the mood killed in a burst of headlights. He adjusts himself and flops down on the sidewalk, hitting his head purposely against the concrete for good measure. Next to him, Jack waits—concern written in his slight frown and scrunched eyebrows.
“You wanna decorate the shop with me tomorrow?” is the first thing that comes out of Gabriel’s mouth, when it probably should have been it’s fine, I liked this, let’s do this again.
A wide smile breaks out over Jack’s face as if Gabriel said the right thing anyway. “Thought you’d never ask.”
It’s hard not to smile back, so Gabriel doesn’t fight it. He’s considering sitting up when a thought occurs to him. “Hey, Jack?”
“Hm.”
“Why were you running?”
“It’s how I got here,” he says casually.
Gabriel gawks in disbelief. “You ran here?”
“AAA was going to take too long,” he starts to explain, “and you’re only five miles away. I knew I could get here faster, so I left my car at the gas station—”
Laughter spews out of Gabriel—the loud, full belly kind. It could be the serendipity of a good first kiss with someone new filling him with joy or the strange mix of mania and relief that follows after. He loops his arms around Jack’s waist, hugging him in his frenzy. The ridiculousness of their situation seems to finally catch up with Jack. It isn’t long until he’s toppling over and holding Gabriel back, laughing in return. Once Jack starts, Gabriel can’t stop until there are tears in his eyes and his stomach aches.
The festive lights above blur as his world turns upside down. With Jack, he swears they look a little brighter.