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"You work too hard," Gabe complained, swirling his alcohol in a lazy circle while Jack poured over a miniaturized map of London. Gabe didn't join him. Blackwatch had been suspended pending international investigation. And, even if they hadn't, the Prime Minister had made it clear that he didn't want Overwatch interfering. Interfering, like they were a band of mercenaries instead of elite operatives.
Grumbling under his breath, Gabe rose to his feet and flicked the datapad's switch. Darkness swallowed the room. Jack cursed and fumbled for the device, but his eyes weren't as accustomed to shadow. "Dammit, people dying out there."
"Because their government abandoned them," Gabe shot back, dropping the datapad beside his whiskey on the desk. Anger squeezed at his throat. "That has nothing to do with you, Boyscout."
Jack's shoulders slumped. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?"
"Yes," Gabe answered, crossing the distance between them in two steps. He slid his arms around Jack from behind "But, it wont, because you still think you can save everyone."
"That's not-" Jack's argument guttered out as Gabe breathed against the side of his neck..The strangled half word made his stomach clench. He craved and hated the effect that the blond had on him. Jack drew a shaky breath. "I-that's not the point."
Gabe chuckled in his throat, releasing Jack's shirt. He didn't pull away, trembling so faintly that most people would have missed it. Gabe didn't. It astonished him that Jack could be so damn strong and fragile at the same time. He was a walking contradiction. "It is the point. You'd be there if you could."
The most recent Blackwatch mission was the reason that Overwatch wasn't welcomed in London. The fiasco in Rialto had jerked back the veil of secrecy around the special ops, simultaneously thrusting Jack into the limelight. He'd been forced to answer for all of Gabriel's poor decisions, and there were many. The pressure drove a wedge between them. Jack had been furious during that last debriefing, anger burning so hot that even Ana's presence barely cooled it. Gabe wondered if Jack knew how much he craved that side of him, the part he kept tightly under wraps.
Even now, an undercurrent of hurt and fractured trust filled the room. Gabe didn't see any way around it. He eyed the glasses of alcohol on the table, his nearly empty and Jack's untouched. The man needed to relax; it had been months, if not years, since Gabe had seen him this tightly wound. Jack popped his neck, an empty attempt to relieve the stress.
Gabe sighed. "Why don't you try being here for a change?"
The words were calculated to sting, and by the way Jack flinched, they'd found their mark. Gabe tried to summon remorse, but it tasted foreign on his tongue. Deep down, he knew that he should leave Jack to his anger and tarnishing reputation. His continued association with Blackwatch, and Gabe in particular, made him look guilty of the accusations that the media lobbed at him. But, Gabe couldn't force himself to stay away.
And Jack keeps letting me come back, Gabe thought. He frowned as the blond started to turn away, like the weight of his judgment was a feather more than Jack could bear. Gabe dropped a hand on his shoulder and felt the muscle tense like stone. He brought the other up to mimic the first, fingers curling possessively. Gabe dropped his voice to a whisper. "You give them too fucking much."
Jack snorted humorlessly, unable to deny the accusation. "Someone has to."
"Maybe, but it doesn't always have to be you." Gabe's thumbs pressed along the tight muscles in Jacks shoulders. He slouched over the command table too often these days. Gabe wished that he was better at this sort of thing. Killing people was easy, holding them together was a whole other level of difficult, and he had no idea how to the latter.
Jack exhaled, a low whistle pushed between pursed lips as Gabe continued massaging the tension away. The man's breath caught when warmth brushed the side of his neck. He shuddered, body shifting backward, toward Gabe who welcomed the pressure. His hands slid down down Jack's chest possessively, content that he'd won the battle. Dismantling Strike Commander Morrison was that easy.
The layers fell away like paper, the legend shrinking back to a man, one that Gabe very much wanted to take to bed. He caught Jack's chin and turned it to mold their lips together. The rest of the world disappeared. Tomorrow would be soon enough to deal with London, to answer for missions gone wrong, to argue about what they should and shouldn't do behind closed doors. For tonight, the shadows were enough.