Work Text:
What is life?
Jack has asked himself this question many, many times; even before the apocalypse started. He hasn’t had a clear answer to his question. Maybe a couple sparks of ideas and clues, but never something that he was fully satisfied with.
What is life?
He has heard many different iterations. For some, it’s a journey to achieve something—fame, fortune, happiness, glory. For others, it’s a test; a test of morals, wits, decisions, adaptability. Or an adventure; a castle to conquer or a jungle to explore.
For him?
It’s the early morning conversations he has with June on the top of the treehouse, the way the corner of her eyes wrinkle, the way her laughter—sweet and infectious—fills his ears and he can’t help but join in. The way her eyes fill gleam so warmly as she looks as him.
It’s the way Quint rambles about his new inventions, with blueprints and blackboards and his lab coat and everything. The way he excitedly shakes his hands, filling to the brim with the joy of having someone listen to him and the things he’s passionate about.
It’s the way he and Dirk chill out together in the front seats of Big Mama, with the hot summer sun directly shining on their faces, their hands in packs of chips and the taste of orange flavored soda on their tongues. The way they about nothing in particular, the breeze hits on their damp napes.
It’s the way Rover dashes towards him when he’s about to go on a mission, his eyes filled to brim with joy and basically begging for Jack to take him with him. The way he excitedly runs towards the branch he just threw and the pride he brings it back with. (Of course, the branch is covered in excessive saliva. No, Jack doesn’t mind it one bit.)
It’s the way Bardle opens the door to his lab/hideout/whatever he has going on in that garage, seemingly disturbed. But that’s not true, no one falls for his grumpiness anymore. They know he has actually grown quite fond of them during the months they have spent together.
It’s the way Skaelka greets them every time they open the doors to Joe’s Pizza with a wave, her other hand nearly always occupied with another monster’s hand (leading the arm-wrestle). And the way she nearly slams her opponents’ hands on the table with the sudden power she got from the ragtag bunch of teenagers and another monster which she calls family, declaring her as the winner.
It’s the fact that he’s not alone, in the time he guessed he would be the most. The way he and his friends—no, his family—navigates through the apocalypse day by day, one step at a time. The way that he can always trust someone to have his back, and the way he always has someone’s back. The days, the afternoons, the nights they spend with each other and just have fun without having to worry about anything.
He has finally figured it out.
It’s to love, and to be loved; with no conditions or standards he has to meet. It’s to trust, to have complete faith in people who surround you and spend time with you every day, and be trusted. It’s to listen and to be listened; to worries, to seemingly silly thoughts, to interests, to hobbies, to plans. It’s to care and be cared about whenever you’re not well—physically or emotionally, doesn’t matter.
It’s family.
Life is family to Jack.