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Jack's not sure what he expected from his first time hanging out at Darby’s place, but it for sure wasn't this one-sided conversation about how body bags are actually sort of cozy once you’re in them for a little while—a situation that Darby is uniquely qualified to have an opinion on. Then again, the consistently unpredictable nature of Darby was sort of what drew Jack to him in the first place, so maybe he shouldn't be so surprised. Well, the unpredictability is a draw, along with the hypnotic blue of his eyes that constantly pulls Jack into a blindingly agreeable trance… And the mesmerizingly wide smile that has to be earned, but is worth every bit of the effort Jack puts into making it appear… And then he’s got to give an honorable mention to the deep v lines that wink at him from beneath the mesh shirts Darby is so fond of, before they vanish below studded belts that barely keep shredded cargo pants sitting above sharp hip bones on most days.
"So, do you think it would work or am I way off base?" Darby asks, sounding oddly strained.
Jack blinks; his eyes, when they refocus, are aimed at Darby’s abdomen, as if Jack was unconsciously lasering beneath the t-shirt that's spread across his friend's skin to see more than what's currently on offer. Jack swallows; heat floods his cheeks; he looks away, giving all of his attention to the empty dog bed that sits in the corner of the living room. Shit. He can’t use the pugs as a distraction this time. He’s got to get a grip. None of this is very "bros hanging out for a weekend just for the fuck of it" of him.
"Dude, where the fuck did you go?" Darby chuckles, spreading his arms out wide to rest on the back of his couch; legs stretching out straight before him; barefeet crossing at the ankles.
It's on the tip of Jack's tongue to say nowhere good, but he smirks instead; clicks the reclining chair he's in back further so his face is tilted up at the ceiling—an easy escape from facing his very hot problem head-on. He folds his hands over his belly to stop them from fidgeting. "Sorry. Spaced out. What were we talking about?"
Darby sighs. "What am I going to do with you?"
Jack's got a few ideas, but he keeps them to himself. He pulls the inside of his cheek between his teeth, and fights valiantly to keep the affection in Darby’s tone from going to either of his heads. Yeah. That’s not his best train of thought. Jack clears his throat, "Give me a recap of what you were asking my opinion on for starters?"
"Not exactly where I'd like to start with you, but sure," Darby says, voice a low rumble wrapped in a smile that Jack can’t see, but he doesn't need to. Jack knows that tone; he's used it on others and been on the receiving end of it too many times to not know what it means.
Jack swipes his tongue across his lower lip; he inhales deep through his nose; exhales slowly the same way; stares at the stark white of the ceiling while he pools his courage. "Oh yeah?" Jack asks just above a whisper, and there’s no denying the flirtation those two words hold; no way for Darby to misread the volley of interest Jack’s serving right back. "How would you like to start with me?"
On the couch, Darby shifts; two quiet thuds echo in the nearly empty room—feet touching the floor. Jack closes his eyes and bites his lip. He waits for Darby to invade his space; waits for Darby to take this thing unfolding between them to wherever he wants it to go; waits for Darby’s fingers in his hair, warm breath at his ear, body stretching out on top of him.
And Jack keeps waiting, growing slightly anxious, because as the seconds tick by Darby doesn't approach him or say anything else. Instead, he hears Darby make his way to the other side of the room, rummaging through what Jack's pretty sure is the coat closet. Eventually, Darby makes his way back over to the couch and asks, very matter-of-factly, as if this is a completely normal inquiry to make: "You ever been in a body bag, Jack?"
Sweet Jesus. The laugh that slams its way out of Jack's chest is quite possibly the least sexy sound he’s ever made in his entire life. But when he rolls his head to the side, he sees Darby with one of those smiles that Jack would pull the moon down to Earth for, standing there with a bunched-up mass of black fabric in his arms.
"I gotta admit," Jack says, smiling so wide his cheeks hurt, "I have no idea where this is going."
Darby's sunshine smile takes a slow turn to something darker, a devilish smirk that sends Jack's heart into a gallop. "Good." He drops the bundle at his feet and gives it all of his attention as he unrolls it, and yes, it's very obviously a body bag, because why wouldn't it be? Why wouldn't this be something that Darby Allin has stored in his living room for a rainy day? "So, like I was saying," Darby continues as he fusses with the zipper—it’s snagged halfway through opening the bag. He keeps talking as he fights with it, but Jack can't hear a goddamn word over the sound of the blood rushing through his ears.
Christ, Jack really wishes this wasn’t doing something for him. He really, really does. But his chest feels tight, and his palms are sweating, and his smile has softened to something he knows must look embarrassingly fond and oh… Oh fucking no! This can not be how it happens. Jack’s better than this, right? Surely it takes more than this to tip the scales from him having a crush to him being…
The zipper gives way and Darby crows triumphantly; he spreads the bag so that it’s mostly all the way open, only closed partially near the bottom. He looks up at Jack expectantly as he continues to adjust the zipper to where he wants it.
Jack’s heart skips a beat, or two, or three, or maybe that body bag is actually for him and this is all a dream because he’s going to die of embarrassment any minute now. Aw, hell. Nope. That’s it. There’s no denying it. There’s no going back. It's happened. This is it. This is the moment. This is the moment that's going to be burned into Jack’s brain for the rest of his life: Darby on his knees, yanking at the tiny metal pull of a body bag that won't open, while he repeats himself a second time only for Jack to get distracted by his very existence again, before turning those stupidly gorgeous baby blues up at Jack and... This is so stupid, but this is the moment Jack’s going to tell their future kids about. This is the moment Jack falls in love with their dad.
Jack sets the recliner upright, straightens out in the chair. He opens his mouth to say something, but no words come to mind. What can he even say that would make any kind of sense to someone not in the middle of the tsunami of thoughts crashing through his head? Hey Darby, nice body bag. By the way, how do you feel about hyphenated last names? Get fucked, Perry, that’s not gonna get you the guy.
"Well? What do you think?" Darby asks.
Oh. Whoops. Jack blinks. "Um..."
Darby raises his eyebrows. "Seriously? I'm putting in some of my best work right now. You seriously didn't hear any of it?"
Jack scrunches up his nose. "I... don't want to lie to you?"
Darby pinches the bridges of his nose. “Jack, you’re killing me.”
Jack winces. “Am I in less trouble if I tell you that I heard everything and I agree with you?” That one’s risky. But it’s also very supportive of him so maybe he’ll earn points for that.
Still on his knees, Darby splays his hands across his thighs and sits back on his calves. He shakes his head. "Alright. New plan."
"Okaaaay?"
"I'm going to ask you two questions. You still with me?"
Jack nods. He can follow the shit out of instructions. Alright, time to shine. He nods again, earnest.
"Great. The first question you’re going to answer with 'I don't know'. Second question, the answer is going to be, 'Let's find out'. Can you handle that?"
Aw, shit. This feels like a test. Is this one a trick question? Damn. Um. Okay, only one way to find out. "Uh... I don't know?" Jack asks, voice lilting up with each word. Darby's chin drops to his chest, disappointment heavy in his sigh. Test failed; Jack chose wrong.
"Motherfucker. Why this one?" Darby asks the empty body bag that's laid out between them in a whisper. "Okay," Darby snorts. "The next question I ask you is the first question. You,” he points at Jack’s, ”are going to give me the first answer."
Jack slides off the recliner and onto the floor, scooching his way on his ass and palms across the polished hardwood until he's across from Darby, on the other side of the body bag. "Got it."
Darby clears his throat, and schools his features—his eyes are dancing; lips struggling to not curl up at the edges. "Say Jack, do you think it's possible to fit two people in a body bag?"
Jack doesn’t want to mess this up, but he also may choke to death if he swallows down the laugh that’s rocking his shoulders. He forces his mouth into a stern pout; can’t hold it. Oh well. He gives his provided answer with a smile and a little flair of improv: "Gosh, Darby, I don't know."
The beginnings of a smile threaten to light up Darby’s whole face, but he holds the line, expression smoothing out to one that’s playful, but sincere. "I bet it would be a cool place to make out—if you could get two people into one, of course. Close quarters, all pressed up against each other… Nowhere for your hands to go except on the other person," Darby says as he slips his legs into the lower half of the body bag that's zipped up to his knees, losing the battle to not grin like the idiot he is. He stretches out on his back inside of the fabric, adjusts the top half that would cover him once it's zipped so it stays folded over at his side. He then leans up on his elbows to meet Jack's gaze. "Do you think that's the kind of first kiss that would be memorable enough to get a guy a second one, Jack?"
Jack’s giving himself a free pass for being so hopelessly enamored with Darby. If he didn’t fall the rest of the way over the ledge for Darby a few minutes ago, this is absolutely the moment that would’ve stolen his heart. So really, technically, falling in love with Darby was inevitable and Jack has nothing to say for it other than that he’s glad he’s finding out that at least some of the feelings here are mutual on the heels of the revelation.
Now that he’s got the green light he should probably put the pedal to the metal, huh?
Jack makes a show of moving until he's on his hands and knees. He crawls to Darby's side and oh, that’s a thing he’s going to stow away for later because the blue of Darby’s eyes have been chased away by black, pupils blown wide with desire. Jack swings one leg over Darby’s hip, straddling him. Darby’s breath hitches; Jack smiles in reply.
Eager hands find Darby’s waist, and Jack would be self-conscious about the trembling in his fingertips if it wasn't for the sinful part of Darby’s lips spurring him on as their chests heave in tandem. Darby stares up at Jack and patiently waits for him to settle.
Resting their foreheads together, Jack inhales Darby’s exhale. Jack slides one foot down the outside of Darby’s leg, crossing over to the inside of Darby’s leg when he reaches his knee; Jack does the same with the other leg until their feet tangle inside of the body bag.
Darby wastes no time wrapping his legs around Jack’s waist, trapping him between his thighs. Jack brushes his nose alongside Darby’s. Darby hums and shifts his weight so he’s balanced on one elbow, freeing up a hand to curl around the back of Jack’s neck, squeezing the hot skin he finds there. Because every part of Jack is on fire and there’s too many clothes between them, but he’s gotta commit to the bit here so he rallies the one brain cell he has left on duty to get the job done.
Jack wiggles around a bit, the pair of them giggling in quiet huffs while Jack leans back to awkwardly reach for and eventually pull on the zipper behind him. He drags it up, sealing them in up to their torsos. Darby drops onto his back and gets his hands under the back of Jack’s shirt; Jack rests his chest on top of Darby's, hands on either side of his head.
Darby leans up, searching for a kiss, and Jack pulls back before he can make contact. Jack still owes him another answer.
"Let's find out if you can earn a second kiss," Jack whispers against Darby’s lips, the touch featherlight and sweet, before Darby’s tongue swoops in behind Jack’s teeth, slotting their mouths together for the first of many times to come.