Chapter Text
After the disaster that was supposed to be an anniversary dinner, Deuce had been hoping hanging out with Jackson would clear his mind of that stress – if only he hadn't been so dumb as to allow himself to hope. When Deuce's doorbell rings, Jackson gives a half smile and a small wave – Deuce steps to the side to allow him in, letting out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
"Dude, I am so glad to see you," Deuce exhales in a shaky laugh, Jackson's expression is that of incredulity.
"Mhm, did the date not go well?" Jackson starts kicking off his shoes, setting his bag on a nearby chair – Deuce falls into a heap on the sofa.
"You've got no idea man – she spent most of the evening upset that I didn't get her something expensive, as if she doesn't know my allowance has a monthly cap, so she decided to spend the whole date yelling at waitstaff." Deuce laughs ghoulishly, "Honestly, you'd think I'd be used to this by now."
Instead of laughing along with him the way he normally would, Jackson remains completely silent as he sits in an armchair – not ignoring Deuce, but seemingly lost in his own head.
"You okay?"
"I'm… I'm fine I'm just," Staring at his own feet and scrubbing his face underneath his glasses, Jackson finally meets Deuce's gaze. "I'm gonna say something that I know you're gonna get pissed at me for."
Deuce laughs again – lighter this time, "I seriously doubt that dude – g'head."
Seemingly hyping himself up for a moment, Jackson lets out all his breath in a sigh.
"Cleo's not a good girlfriend."
Deuce feels something in his stomach shift as he tries to process what Jackson had just said – trying to simultaneously wrap his head around his words and think of some kind of response, a weird nagging feeling in the back of his mind almost reminiscent of reassurance somehow making his gut twist further.
"What?"
"She treats you badly Deuce – she knows you don't have the same kind of spending power she does yet she guilts you into buying her gifts, she gives you the silent treatment if you do anything she doesn't like, not to mention the constant patronizing –"
"Hold up," Deuce lifts both his hands in an attempt to get a word in, "Are you serious? Do you know how many times she's gone against her family's wishes just to be with me?"
"That doesn't matter when you're just arm candy to her." Jackson cuts in, voice insistent and frustrated – thankfully not angry.
"What the hell are you trying to imply?" Deuce rises to a standing position – he knows he shouldn't be getting defensive right now, yet vitriolic laughter punctuates his sentence regardless.
Mirroring him, Jackson stands as well. "Do you remember when she accused you of cheating on her with a girl you didn't even know on the anniversary of Smokey's…" Jackson trails off, clearly holding words back, "He was your childhood pet and you were mourning."
Deuce flounders for something he can respond with, all the while somewhere deep in the back of his mind he knows Jackson's right.
"That was… an isolated incident –"
"She never apologized." Jackson responds darkly. "Can you name a single time she's apologized to you for anything?"
"Oh my god – why does it matter so much to you?!" Against what little judgment he has left, Deuce is beginning to get frustrated – least I'm not the only one, "What, are you jealous?"
Jackson barks out sarcastic laughter, sounding far crueler than he'd likely intended.
"Jealous… of a one-sided toxic relationship? I'm telling you this because you're clearly unhappy."
"'Clearly unhappy' so you're a mind reader now, is that it? Should we call Scarah in on this too?"
"It doesn't take a mind reader – you vent to me after almost every date with her – it's deductive reasoning!" Jackson has started emoting with his hands – something Deuce knows he only does when his emotions are too high to contain with words or expressions.
Deuce knows he needs to stop – he knows that this could escalate in a way neither of them want, yet the fear in his gut knowing how angry Cleo would be if she didn't defend him urges him to continue.
"Guess I should take advice from the guy whose last partner adored him so much they started seeing another guy behind his back, huh?"
Beneath Jackson's left eye a muscle twitches, so subtle Deuce barely catches it.
"I was the first relationship experience Frankie had – they were months old at that point, a bit more understandable than the girl whose been unalive for over five thousand years." His voice is low with the slightest twinge of hurt – Deuce needs to put an end to this somehow – angry as he is, he doesn't want to hurt Jackson.
"Stay out of my relationship – it's not your business, I shouldn't have told you to begin with." Mutters Deuce, standing his ground.
"I'm not doing that – her treatment of you borders on abuse and I'm not going to sit by and watch someone I care about get hurt." Jackson does the same, so clearly adamant.
"Abuse?! Are you kidding?!" Deuce all but shouts – he's not even angry, rather terrified of the horrific implications behind that word.
"No Deuce – I'm not! You depend on her for everything – I saw you while she was away in Scaris, she stripped you of independence!"
"Fuck sakes – Just stop, okay?! You don't know what the fuck you're talking about!"
Stop yelling. Stop yelling at him.
"My mother is a psychologist – what I saw was textbook codependency –" Jackson continues, his brows knit in unmistakable anger – Deuce cuts him off with a wordless exclamation of frustration.
"Quit trying to play doctor and just admit the only reason you're doing this is because you hate looking like a loser showing up to school dances alone!"
Deuce wanted the words to hurt – he wanted them to be the thing to finally shut Jackson up, but not like this.
Jackson recoils as if he's been slapped, blinking twice as his eyes begin to shine with tears – bottom lip slowly starting to quiver.
This is the very reaction Deuce didn't want – he doesn't really know what he wanted to begin with, but it sure as hell wasn't to make his best friend cry.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean –"
"Where the fuck do you get off." Through his tears, Jackson's tone is absolutely livid – Deuce can't even answer, even though he knows he should be groveling for whatever forgiveness Jackson would be willing to give, words don't come to him.
"Here I was hoping you'd know you could never understand what my life has been like – Deuce Gorgon let me fucking tell you something, you don't even know the half of what I've been through, but I guess I'm the idiot for genuinely believing you'd care."
Deuce is shocked into silence – he'd brought Jackson to tears and sure enough, he regrets it more than anything else he's ever done. Before he can think of something to say to attempt to fix things, Jackson slams Deuce's front door behind him – leaving Deuce alone with the horrifying knowledge that he'd made Jackson cry – while he was trying to help him, no less.
Deuce feels like he's about to be sick, the memory of those ocean eyes wet with tears is haunting enough to glue him to where he stands in front of the couch – raising his shaking hands, Deuce tries to focus on anything but Jackson's voice he was forcing to be stable while gasping for breath between sentences.
Left with little choice but to sit back down on the sofa lest his legs give out, Deuce retreats into his own head completely for a while – locked in a guilt filled haze for who knows how long until one of his snakes snaps at his ear particularly harshly.
He needs to fix this, and fast.
It's been almost half an hour when Deuce goes looking for Jackson – naturally the first place he thinks to go is Jackson's house, his brain on complete autopilot by the time he makes it to the front door and knocks, Henrietta answers the door – visibly confused by his presence.
"Deuce – hello, is everything alright?"
"Is Jackson here??"
Henrietta's eyebrows furrow in concern, "No, I thought he was spending time at your place – are you okay? What happened?"
"He – he was, I said something stupid that hurt his feelings – I made him cry, he was just trying to help me –" Deuce can hardly get air in, Henrietta rests a hand on his shoulder maternally.
"Slow down, take a breath – why don't you come inside –"
Wordlessly, Deuce shakes his head, "Do you know where he could have gone? I need to apologize – I hurt him so badly –"
Henrietta saws her lip between her teeth, face shifted to that of concern – honestly, Deuce is a little confused why Jane isn't here tearing into him – Deuce doesn't have much time to wonder before Henrietta sucks air through her teeth.
"If he's upset, he's probably in the library or at the park – but honestly he could've gone anywhere, are you sure you want –" Henrietta hasn't even finished her sentence before Deuce runs off in the direction of the nearby park, bidding her a quick goodbye before he's out of sight so he hopefully doesn't seem quite as rude.
Time feels like a thick jelly as Deuce runs, he finds himself thanking any god that's listening for his impressive stamina before he sees a flash of butter yellow – damn near sobbing in relief when he matches the shade to a certain scientist's dress shirt.
Deuce would hesitate before speaking to someone he'd upset under normal circumstances – evidently the status quo in his mind has been broken as his legs carry him toward a tearful Jackson sitting on a park bench.
Maybe it's something about his flushed cheeks, or the way he's folded his glasses into his lap so he can scrub at his still dripping eyes with the heels of his hands – maybe it's something about Jackson's forcing down the volume of his sniffles despite there being no one else around. Whatever the reason, a tidal wave of foreign emotions Deuce can't begin to explain hits him like a truck – knocking the wind out of him accordingly.
"Jackson?" The name feels forced from Deuce's throat, it sounds nothing like the unbothered persona Deuce has become so accustomed to putting on – he sounds small and guilty – yet upon seeing Jackson raise his head then swiftly look away, Deuce knows he has no right to feel those things.
"God man, I'm so – can I sit? You can say no,"
Jackson doesn't answer verbally in favor of scooting to the side to allow Deuce room to sit. When he does so, Jackson lightly punches him in the arm -- nowhere near hard enough to hurt – before leaning his head on Deuce's shoulder.
"Prick."
Mindlessly, Deuce pulls Jackson into a proper hug – resting his forehead on Jackson's crown and forcing himself not to dwell on his heart in his throat.
"I'm sorry Jackson – I was being defensive for literally no reason, I was out of line with what I said – you're not a loser at all, you're one of my best friends and I'm so sorry I hurt you."
With a sniffle so pitiful it makes Deuce feel sick, Jackson clears his throat, "Don't be, you were right – I should've minded my business,"
"I wasn't right at all – you were concerned and I should've seen that… I did see that, I think I just didn't want to admit that you… were actually spot on." Deuce swallows a rock formed in his throat, pulling a shaky breath as words fall from his mouth with little thought. "I'm not happy with Cleo, and saying that now… it was probably super obvious to everyone else,"
"Maybe not everyone – some people still call you the it couple – guess I'm just observant, I dunno." Jackson's voice is still a little wobbly, and when he pulls away from the hug, Deuce gets another good look at his face.
That expression Jackson's wearing, his eyelashes wet and his cheeks pink while his lip still quivers slightly – it makes Deuce feel weak, and now that he's admitted (some of) his true feelings about Cleo, he's got a pretty good guess as to why.
"Look, I don't hate you or anything, but do you think you could give me the weekend? I need… time," Jackson requests timidly.
Clearing his throat and forcing his brain to think of some kind of response, Deuce manages only an "Okay," Honestly considering seeing Jackson's post crying expression turned him completely stupid, Deuce has a feeling he'd better get used to making an utter fool of himself in front of Jackson if whatever they have now is gonna progress any further.
Like that's happening, the thought stings as it hits him, as does the knowledge that it's more than just insecurity making him believe this – he said something shitty with full intention to hurt Jackson, he'd be lucky to even stay friends with him at all, let alone keeping what they had before.
Slowly Jackson stands, clumsily wiping the lens of his glasses on the cuff of his sleeve, saying nothing as he pulls his lips into a tight line and giving Deuce a half hearted wave goodbye. As Deuce watches Jackson walk off in the direction of his house, his own rush of tears starts flowing with hardly an attempt to stop them.
Of course, Deuce spent so long focusing on the wrong thing that he didn't even realize who he had until he'd already ruined it.