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After they clean the rest of the nest, which took the whole day, they drive to the nearest motel they can find. They’re tired, every joint and muscle complaining about the last days’ efforts.
As soon as they enter their room, Jack is the first one in the bathroom and the Father starts to unpack his measly bag, looking for some clean clothes and hating himself for filling it up with more books than anything else.
When Jack leaves the bathroom, the Father avoids looking at him while he’s still dripping from the shower. For once, the slayer seems more bone tired than angry.
“I’ll get us some beer and burgers,” Jack says and goes out before the Father can even reply.
He shrugs and goes to the bathroom. He has no complaints about it because now that he had the time to think about it, he is hungry and would eat any cheap burger like it is a banquet fit for a king.
Once he gets back to the room, Jack is already there and eating in a famished way that makes the Father smile a little, thinking that they were both equally hungry.
He takes his burger and beer and sits on his bed to eat, devouring with the same intensity as his roommate. As he sips the beer, he thinks of something Jack had said before to him. Suddenly, he’s looking down, almost ashamed, afraid that Jack would be able to read his thoughts.
The room is awfully quiet as they nurse their beers and their thoughts.
Jack is usually talkative, but the Father supposes that losing all of his team and then his best friend to a vampire has damped his mood a bit. Adam understands it. He has been feeling off for the past few days: traveling here, taking over a role in the team years earlier, getting dragged into this whole mess by Jack, killing vampires and almost dying… It is a lot to take in, especially compared to his usual very boring routine of reading too many books until late at night.
It would take some getting used to. For both of them.
He watches Jack lay in bed and prepare himself to sleep, and something wakes in him, some urge he has ignored for so long that he ignored it has been there at all. And, now that he has gone through hell, he starts to let it take over him, free of the usual shame his thoughts bring him.
Today he had killed in His name and he hoped He would allow him some small indulgence. He deserved some reward, right?
Just for today, he would like to get what he wants instead of fighting against it. Lord forgive him for his sins — he does the cross sign.
Right after, he drinks the last of his beer in seek of liquid courage. Not that he could blame the small amount of alcohol in his bloodstream for the decision he’s making now.
Then, he gets up and walks to Jack’s bed, straddling him in one rapid movement, similar to what the slayer had done to him the other day — but without a gun, of course.
Jack opens his eyes and stares at him, one eyebrow arched, not in confusion, but challenge.
“Whatcha doing, Padre?”
“Well, you’ve offered to buy me a beer and get me laid, haven’t you?”
Jack smiles at him, almost as sharp as the man himself.
“I thought you were a man of your word, Jack,” he continues, sporting more courage than he feels.
Jack could kill him if he wanted. Easily. But he supposes that if Jack hasn’t done it yet, it’s probably a good sign.
“You’re a funny guy, Padre.”
Jack is intently looking at him, which makes his knees get weak and leave him completely unprepared for when Jack switches their positions with the sort of strength and easiness that should make him scared, but only serves to turn him on more. He loses his breath as Jack uses one of his hands to hold his wrists above his head, bounding him in place.
The man’s other hand touches his collarbone, slowly going up until his chin, stopping for a second to squeeze his neck. Then, he holds his face a bit forcefully. Their eyes never leave each other, a sort of contest of wills.
Jack chuckles.
“You’re full of surprises,” Jack says while letting him go free and lying by his side. “I’d love to keep my promises, but not today. I don’t think my cock could get hard even if Pamela Anderson was giving me a lap dance today.”
“Okay, tomorrow then,” he says half as a question to Jack, who hums in agreement.
A couple of minutes tick by before the slayer speaks again:
“Aren’t you going back to your bed?”
“Nope.”
He snuggles closer to Jack, confident that if he really wanted him out of his bed, he would’ve kicked him out already. Jack is a man of actions, not of politely asking.
“Fine then. Goodnight, Padre.”
Jack stretches his arm to turn off the light. After, he turns to his side and puts his arm around his waist, not thigh, just there. The lightest of touches between them so far and it makes the Father smile sadly to himself in the dark.
It has barely been one week since hell began in their lives and it has left them with nothing but themselves, alive to share this bond forged by misfortunes. So he guesses that neither of them wants to be alone for tonight after being abandoned by everyone they trusted and cared.
Tomorrow life will go on and they’ll continue their hunt. Tonight, the darkness embraces them and all they left behind.