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"Mo-om," Ed said.
"Edward," she replied, returning his glare. "This is not up for discussion. You heard the doctor's instructions, same as I did. And Jack." She tore open a sterile gauze package, and unwrapped a new paper tape dispenser.
They were in his bathroom; Ed had just finished taking his first shower, and in a pair of clean sweats and skin whose pores were finally completely free of gunk, he felt halfway human. "She said that if the incision didn't hurt," he said, grinding the words out, "then it was okay to pass, on the--stuff." Four hours and half a city away from the hospital wasn't long, or far, enough.
"The doctor said no such thing, and I was standing right there," his mother said. "The nurse mentioned that there would come a time, as in two days from now, when you could do what you want. But--"
"No!" Ed backed up a step, but he did it more quickly than his body was prepared to move, and nearly lost his balance. His mother grabbed his arm, steadying him.
"Good grief. Like you're five years old." She fixed him with a stare, turning slightly to the closed bathroom door. "Jack!"
Ed's pulse started pounding. "I don't need--"
"Jack!"
The door opened within a second. "What happened?" Jack spoke quickly; his eyebrows were twitching.
Ed's mother smiled at him. "He seems to have forgotten the aftercare instructions. So, I'm passing your boyfriend back to you." She met Ed's eyes, still smiling. "Good luck, dear." She squeezed past Jack and closed the door behind her.
Ed wanted to sink into a hole that he gladly would have dug himself. He couldn't look at Jack, who was busying himself with the medical supplies laid out on the counter, so he watched him through the mirror. Jack's lips were the thing twitching now, and his cheeks were starting to flush, and Ed swore that it was one of the sexiest things he'd ever seen. A fact which would forever remain his own closely held secret. "I'm sorry," he said, but it came out rather raspy. "For the boyfriend comment. She--she makes assumptions...."
Jack faced him, a tube of antibiotic ointment in his hand. "Don't worry about it." His tone was mild, laced with something Ed couldn't put his finger on. "So," Jack continued, "you're refusing medical care?" A smile played on one side of his mouth.
Ed wanted to know why he wasn't supposed to worry about his mother's comment. Another question which would remain unanswered. He sighed. "Just don't want the bandages. I don't think I need 'em."
Jack's eyes dropped from Ed's to the incision on his body. He looked at it for a long moment, his jaw muscles working. He inhaled slowly, and raised his glance, exhaling; the flow of air brushing Ed's chest almost making him shiver. "It looks like you do, Ed," Jack said in a quiet voice. "Let's not tempt fate any more, okay?"
They looked at each other steadily, and Ed's pulse began to pound again, with the same questions drumming in his brain that had been there since Jack had broken off their kissing. He didn't ask them, he only nodded, and stood stock still as Jack put ointment on a swab and gently, carefully, applied it to the place where surgeons had sliced him open. They were so close that Ed could smell him, and he knew now that this scent would forever be emblazoned on his heart as Jack. Would forever remind him of this time they had spent together. He looked at Jack's face as the man worked with gauze, and tape; Jack's eyelashes, his lips, his hands; felt the rush when the man's fingers touched his skin. Jack's breaths were getting shorter, his chest visibly rising and falling. He finished the job, finally meeting Ed's eyes.
They were so close; their eye contact wasn't wavering. Jack leaned closer, and rested fingers on the side of Ed's waist. His heart careened. There was a knock on the door. His mother told them dinner was ready. Jack stepped back, leaving Ed to stifle an overwhelming urge to grab his arm when Jack's touch slipped away.
Ed was propped against his headboard, nearly as many pillows as he owned stacked behind him, his stomach full of his mother's cooking; water, pain pills, remote control, and tissues on the bedside table. Just like the hospital. A major difference, aside from real food, was Jack, next to him, using the other pillows Jack and his mom had found in their search of the apartment. Jack, who had asked if Ed minded should he stretch out on the other half of the bed. With that smile of his, and that spark in his eyes. The glitter that confused Ed; that caused his stomach to flutter and stupid things to come out of his mouth. Jack took his hand, and caressed it with his thumb. It felt good, and natural, and soothing.
Ed said, "Do you want something with me?" which was probably an excellent example of the stupid things he was prone to say when in close proximity to this man.
Jack rolled on his side, propping himself on an elbow, still clutching his hand. "Do I want something with you?" His voice dropped an octave, at least. "Oh, I want, Ed. I definitely want."
Shit, that went directly to his groin, his pulse, and the surface temperature of his skin. His brain, however, was not responding, other than to reassess the "stupid" critique since he had elicited the one answer he yearned for. Ached for, like a dying man craves peace.
Jack rolled further, and rested a palm on Ed's naked chest. "The thing I don't want is to push, when you're still healing, and... my lack of self-control might make me do something that could hurt you. Because...."
Jack wasn't continuing, but Ed's mind had finally kicked on all the way, with little pieces here and there falling into the empty places of his heart. That Jack was afraid of hurting him could explain what had happened that morning on Ed's hospital bed, but since Jack did not seem to be a man normally ruled by fear, then-- Ed took a deep breath. "Because why? What?"
Those intense eyes were studying his, and there was an immediate, hard thudding inside his chest; he saw once again the change in Jack's breathing. Jack touched his cheek, then trailed fingertips across his lips. The thuds increased in tempo.
"Damn it," Jack muttered, the split second before he lunged, covering Ed's mouth with his own, taking it in a kiss that was only momentarily light, that deepened in a heady rush of hard lips and sweeping tongues, that had Ed's stomach diving and all systems firing at once. He grabbed the back of Jack's head with his free hand, his fingers threading through the thick salt and pepper hair. Tongues probed deeper still. Jack tasted like vanilla, and coffee, and something else which was probably all him, but definitely all good. Ed wanted--
He wanted to be flat on his back with Jack covering every inch of him. Now, if not sooner, and he didn't care one iota about health consequences. He wanted. Jack wanted. Simple equation. Bodies in motion, pressing together, would be the result and Ed needed to feel the power of that, needed to be overcome by it all. Swept away. He tried to shift, but Jack pulled back quickly. "No, no," Ed said, "I'm okay, just want to get more comfortable." He gestured toward the foot of the bed.
Jack was giving him that intense look again, only this time, below a worried brow, the man's eyes were glistening and he swallowed, hard, and Ed's throat hurt to see it, because he got it. As much of it as he could let himself take in.
"Jack," he said, cupping his face, "I'll be fine. I am fine. I want -- and care, too. I'll tell you if something hurts."
Jack's eyes shifted down, to Ed's chest, and further. To the tent that was forming under his sweats. "I guess we can do some things, until...." He looked directly at Ed and smiled softly.
"Until we can do others," Ed replied with a smile of his own. "Take off your shirt."
Bushy eyebrows arched, and Jack's smile widened. He sat up and pulled off his tee in one fluid motion. Ed's mouth went dry.