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“Alright, are you ready?” Lynette asks from behind him on the couch. She's holding the syringe a little shakily, but with far more poise than he usually does, so Jack inhales deeply and nods.
He knows the way this is going to go- the way it always goes, the way it has done ever since he first injected himself with testosterone years ago. The needle will go in, and the moment it's out, Jack will be too.
There is something different about this time, though.
Lynette is the one with the needle.
Lynette will be there to catch him when he inevitably goes limp.
“Just to make sure, this is where I'm supposed to be doing it, right?”
Jack opens his eyes, previously squeezed shut, and dares to glimpse at the needle positioned over the bare skin of his thigh. The hand that's holding his t-shirt up above it trembles.
“Uh, yeah.” he murmurs breathlessly. “That's it.”
Lynette exhales with relief. “Okay. Great. Sorry to make you look.”
He lets his eyes flutter closed again and gives her a weak smile. “Don't worry about it… Thank you, by the way.”
“For doing this?”
“Mm.”
“Jack, I'm your girlfriend. I'll do whatever I can to help you feel more comfortable.”
The sentiment is so sweet his throat bobs to keep from sobbing. Thankfully, Lynette is quick to change the subject.
“Alright, I’m going to do it now. Do you want a countdown or do you want me just to do it?”
A slight sweat starts to creep onto the back of his neck. It's a familiar sensation, this panic, and usually it drags the whole process out- he can't hold the needle still when his hands are shaking the way they are now.
“Just do it.” he says faintly. He's already getting lightheaded.
There's a gentle hand against his skin, and then the pinching sting of the needle going in. The pain isn't that bad. It never is. The accompanying tingling across his shoulders and legs, though, is.
“All done.” Lynette murmurs. There's a slight clattering, probably the needle being deposited on the coffee table next to his couch, and then her hands are at his sides, one drifting up to rub his shoulder. “You okay?”
The lightness is spreading. His head feels like it's being filled with rocks, but he just about manages to shake it.
She clicks her tongue fondly, her thumb brushing against the fabric of his shirt. “I’ve got you, Jack. If you feel like you're going to pass out, just let it happen. You're safe.”
Let it happen.
He's never really done that before. Usually, he's fighting to stay conscious until the very last moment, and then he's gasping awake a few minutes later, an ache in every one of his limbs.
But now…
Slowly, and with effort, he stops his muscles from clenching. He lets his weight sag in her arms, feels her pulling him in closer, embracing him as he tips back. Allows his eyes to roll back, his head to loll, knowing that one of her palms will be there to catch it.
“That's it. Good job, Jack. Let it happen, I've got you.”
He feels himself lowered down onto the couch, one of her hands stroking his hair, the other adjusting him so he's more comfortable.
“There we go. You're okay. You're alright.”
It's the last thing he hears before his consciousness fades completely.
Someone- Lynette- is playing with his hair. Humming gently.
It's the first thing he's aware of, before the ache infects his bones and the heaviness drags him back down again. For these few moments, he's weightless.
“ I’m right here, sweetheart. I'm right here.” She says.
And he decides once and for all that this is far better than doing it alone.