less than 2k words
This is a snippet of a bigger AU, at the happiest moment of it :^) but before we get there, it will take quite a bit so, I thought I would post this already!
Rhys' bad tastes and Jack being a sweetheart,,,
===
"Heyyyyyy-- pumpkin?"
"Yeah, Jack?" Rhys looked over the kitchen counter, trying to remove a stain from the unwanted Skag guest. "What's the question for the day?"
"Oh, well I wanted to ask you what you want for dinner but, if you're so insistent - what's your favorite ice cream flavour?"
Rhys stared down at the man. The last few 'daily questions' were a bit more stimulating. How he got the prosthetic, what it was like to be an Atlas CEO, had he kept the Jack AI, some heavy stuff in general. This felt like a trap, but one that was most welcome.
"I don't like ice cream. I like frogurts way more."
Jack stared back at him, waiting for him to continue. The man's face, frozen solid, was enough for Rhys to know something was up. This state was only a few seconds long but that was still more than wanted. The sudden drift to a salesman's smile was also not a sign of everything being okay.
"OK, if you have such a blast destroying your taste buds, tell me at least what knife you're using. I need to know if I should ever let you cook or not. I feel if you'd try to poison me, you'd actually make me healthier, knowing your-"
"Chocolate dill pickle."
Jack seemed frozen solid for longer than before. But something was... different. This exact scenario happened a few times before already but, every time, it left Rhys a bit on the edge. He could imagine the big hands wrapping around his trachea and snapping it if they wanted to. It felt like a matter of time, even if the man before him hadn't made such a gesture before. The eyes were the key difference. They weren't, like a moment ago, staring through a fog at the world surrounding them. The small shines and the relaxed brows didn't keep Rhys off his guards, but they did make him wait for something.
He didn't expect laughter.
Not just any laughter - a whole fit. A maniac, full, from the chest, belly moving, spine bending laugh. Hands flying, from thighs to the forehead, to waving in the air, as the big, loud, manic laughter, continued. It caused Rhys to relax - Jack probably was imagining the taste and while he loved it, Jack probably hated even the mental image of it. Something, about watching this man laugh to such an extent, made the warmth spread in Rhys' chest. It was not perfect but, it was nice. It felt like they were used to this. And - to make that happen, Rhys decided to be more confident and say something more.
"You can't judge a good frogurt just by some mediocre tastes! Why do you need a vanilla when you have Last Night Midnight? It was a limited edition taste that had ingredients making -"
"You're not him!"
Barely, through a dying laughter, Jack, with the help of a chair he was holding on, got those words out of his mouth. Scared, a bit disappointed, Rhys could only stare at the man as he still fought through the teary cackles. Jack, with his hard-working diaphragm, barely got any words out.
"It's cus-oh, oh kiddo, oh my god - it's not him! My Rhysie - man! Ah, oh my - - loves some citrus-- Cheesy Lemon Zest--lord! Kiddo, oh God your taste is so shit - - Chocolate Flush the most!"
Rhys let Jack slowly get out of the torturous laughing tone. The warmth was no longer making him flutter. It felt embarrassing, it felt sad and burning through everything he's done wrong till then. If not for him...
"You're not him." Jack panted, sweat slowly dropping off his forehead.
It was true. He was not him .
And it made Rhys feel stupid for being so happy hearing that.
===
For the rest of the evening, Jack spent the time in the kitchen. The new policy of not sleeping together made Jack quite insomniac but, Rhys felt he shouldn't comment on that at all. It felt like a very important thing for him to do by himself. Still, Rhys couldn't stop being worried for the man. Especially after Rhys wasn't let in the kitchen.
The first sign was Jack telling him to get busy and just do things around the house. Then, it was him not being allowed to even brew some coffee. After enough pestering, Jack made him some and closed the door, telling Rhys he couldn't come to the kitchen for some time.
Thinking it was a bad prank, hungry for a snack, Rhys attempted to get to the kitchen with no fruition, especially since he didn't get the fruit he wanted.
Being told 'later, kiddo' and given a banana made him feel like he was back at school but he tried his best to not show how it annoyed him. Jack's comments about poutiness not being the stronger weapon said he sucked at it.
The worst, however, was the moment Jack smashed the door in his face when he was trying to sneak in and take a slice of the pizza they had for dinner. Annoyed, hungry and tired, through the door, he told Jack if he wanted to cook some pot, the kitchen was the WORST place for that type of cooking. Instead of any of the typical Jack-making remarks Rhys expected to hear, the man opened the door, checked his nose he even forgot he was holding, and gave him a heated-in microwave two pizza slices and soda with three ice cubes.
Apologies coming from that man's mouth felt still like a fever dream - too face-warming. Too weird. But it was important to hear and receive.
"I'm just making something atrocious in the kitchen. Smells horrible - so I'm doing you a favour, Rhysie. Don't stay up too late, we have a few things to do tomorrow."
Nodding in agreement, Rhys stood up and went to eat what he was given and slowly, very slowly, in fact, prepared for bedtime. Scanning through all his Echo Eye files for some clues hadn't been fruitful for the past few days but there were enough folders to check for eternity. He had that, in a way - just not at the place he maybe would want. Not realising when he stopped seeing the Echo Eye layout, with a droll falling from his left cheek, Rhys slowly opened his eyes, seeing a figure above him. The hand on his shoulder didn't leave many suspects on who it might be but, the cold point on his cheek wasn't as easy to guess.
"Open up, buttercup."
"Oaaaghaa?", Rhys said very charismatically, obviously.
"Come on, it will melt. Just say aaaaa or eeee, both are good. Or even waaaah, just don't do it too loud. We're no longer in kindergarten."
"Mmwha waw you tal'in aboth...", Rhys straightened his back and said in the most professional tone.
"I'm talking about the ice crea- yogurt, I mean, oh you get what I mean. Taste it."
"I ion wanna. I washed my teeth, just.... now...."
"Princess, it's 4 am. You're dressed in your clothes, you have one shoe still on and it's only between you and one Skag probably where the other is gone. I want to fall asleep soon but I won't be able to finish this if I don't know, you know like, if I did a good job."
"Mm but is athrosiosh...."
"To me. Fortunately, there is only one person with good taste in this room, so this should be up to your liking. Now chop chop, I don't want it dribbling off my fingers and staining me for life."
While the metal of the spoon was getting a tiny bit warmer, the trails of the frogurt slowly melting off Rhys' skin made him reluctantly open his mouth and give the cold mass a lick. The familiar taste made his eyes open, while not fully, a lot more, and he grabbed the spoon, eating everything off it.
"How did you find Fran's here?"
"Who's Fran."
"The frogurt lady. Unless she started selling these goods through grocery shops."
"Oh yes, pumpkin. I just spent 7 hours on opening shop-bought creams."
"That sucks on you."
Rhys cackled and yawned. "But, where did you find my Fran's fav?"
"Where? Well jee, princess, let me think of every shop being close by. Oh, right - they typically don't have atrocious and horrible tastes. I'd be scared living here if others would like this as much as you."
"Mm, so, was this what you got from Elpis?"
"I don't think - - My God, please don't act dumb, I'm doing everything in my mind not to kiss you at this moment. No, it's--I worked on it. All day. Based on the description you said. No ice shop here, and no van with fun music around. It's just me, making you a treat."
Rhys felt his mind open a bit more, finally letting the information he was hearing process.
"Wait so - you made it?"
"Unfortunately."
Jack's face was still covered in shadow but, the softness of his voice and the hand, wrapped under the right ear as the thumb was slowly careering his cheek, felt like enough signs the guy was in a good mood.
"You didn't have to but... How did you get the perfect combination of flavours and textures? It feels just so right."
"I had my fair share of horrible meals I had to make in my life to sustain someone."
"You truly didn't...have to-"
"Yes, and I won't redo this massacre anytime soon. But check the freezer on your 'sad nights ice cream times' or some other shit mood."
"No - - I meant the kissing. I mean - both."
"... Kiddo I..."
Rhys' consciousness was drifting back and forth but he knew he was speaking very nonchalantly.
"Come to bed then. You look tired." No one had ever said these words in a more confident, job-winning way.
"I need to put the atrocity in the fridge but -- I'll uh. I'll be back."
"That would be nice."
"Don't fall asleep before I'm back. Wait for me."
Not even five minutes later, after running what felt like a marathon, Jack came back to the master bedroom and heard Rhys soft snores. Shaking his head and talking about how the guy would get mad in the morning for the state of the clothes, Jack gently joined him in the bed and wrapped his arms around him, finally feeling the tiredness hitting. He didn't mind it, though. The warmth, spreading in his chest, helped him fall asleep easier than the past few alone nights. This wasn't a sweet moment. Probably not even bittersweet.
But a weird mix of ingredients the guy in his arms liked.
