#jackrosie

[sweaterkittensahoy]

Prompt: "You have a stupid face and it's my favourite one to stare at."

Pairing: Drunk Dougley

[Snuck a little Jack/Rosie in here because why not]

They're absolutely and entirely drunk. Giddy with victory and relief. They've made it. All the way from basic to the end of war, and now they're leaning hard on each other as they share a cigarette and Bucky interrupts the band for the third time in an hour.

"You know what?" Ev says, as James takes a long drag from the cigarette.

"What?" James asks, then stares at the cigarette before adding it to the collection of butts in a mostly melted whiskey on the rocks someone had left behind at some point in the last several hours of celebration.

"You have a stupid face," Ev says and pats James's cheek none too lightly. "And it's my favorite one to stare at."

James beams and leans in, smacking their foreheads together. "You have a stupid face," he says. "My face is perfect."

"That's why it's stupid," Ev replies. He smacks James's other cheek with his other hand, then squishes James's cheeks. "Perfect, stupid face."

James laughs. "Marry me," he says.

Ev squishes his cheeks again. "Not right now," he says. "We're at a party."

"Okay," James agrees and fumbles around for another cigarette. "Get us drinks. We're celebrating."

Ev kisses him, more enthusiasm than skill, and stands up. He wobbles a little, then steadise when Jack reaches out and grabs his shouldeer. "Me and James are gettin' married," he says.

"So you've told me several times," Jack replies. This is time number four, actually. In intervals of about thirty minutes.

Ev squints at him. "Shit, Jack, you're not sober, are you?"

Jack laughs and holds up his drink. "Nah," he says, lying through his teeth. "Get me anothere when you go up there, okay?"

"Course, Jack." Ev slaps him on the chest and wobbles towards the bar.

"You are pretty sober," Rosie says, tapping his own glass against Jack's. They're both drinking whiskey on the rocks. Jack had sacrificed his first drink of the evening to Ev and James's cigarettes so they'd stop putting out th butts on the tablee top.

"I'll get stupid drunk when they're all home," Jack says. "You should join me."

Rosie grins and steps a little closer. "Okay," he says. "But no proposing marriage until we're both sober again."

Jack watches Ev walk back towards them. He's steadier now, and he's holding three glasses with ease. He throws back the rest of his drink and slides it onto the table amongst all of Ev and James's empties. "Deal," he agrees.

"Jack," Ev says, as Jack takes a glass from him. Ev looks at Rosie. "Oh, hey, Rosie, when'd you get here?"

Rosie snickers. "About four rounds ago," he says.

"Good," Ev says, then sits next to James, passing him his glass.

James lights up a fresh cigarette and passes it to Ev. "You know what?" he says as he and Ev lean into each other again. "We should get married."

Jack and Rosie share a look and step away, creating space for some other hapless person to fall into the whirlpool of Ev and James and victory.

[sweaterkittensahoy]

Posted up some of my fics from the last few months and remembered the god-tier pairing of Jack and Rosie. Overworked, exhausted, big-hearted, and terrified? They should comfort each other with their penises.

[sweaterkittensahoy]

Prompt: “I didn’t want to see you get hurt.”

Pairing: JackRosie (RAREPAIR FUCK YEAH)

[set in the middle of Rosie's 25th party because it's just so perfect]

Jack watches the face of every man around him drop from the good cheer of celebrating Rosie's accomplishment to the fear and anger and terror of having to fly more than 25. What hurts most, though, is the way Rosie turns and walks away from him. Jack turns and throws back his whiskey, fingertips touching his eyebrow without thinking.

Rosie had walked into Jack's office that morning, flight suit immaculate and hat in his hand. He'd stared at Jack for a moment, then cut across the room in his confident way. He'd parked himself on the edge of Jack's desk and leaned in, dropping a kiss off-center on Jack's eyebrow. "You're gonna dance with me tonight, Major Kidd," he'd said, a giddiness to his tone. "You promised."

Jack had reached out and rested his hand lightly on Rosie's knee. "Better come back in one piece, then," he'd said.

Rosie's face had gone deeply serious. He'd nodded. "You know I'll try."

Jack's hand had tightened on Rosie's knee. "I know."

And then Rosie'd done it. Flown back in without a scratch, carried on the boys's shoulders the moment he'd tumbled out of the fort. Curls loose from sweat, smile so bright and wide Jack swore it made the whole base five degrees warmer.

He'd spent the day in meetings getting the worst news he'd been expecting for weeks. Then hours after holding the words in his throat as everyone buzzed around him, trying not to hope too much that Rosie and his Riveters would finally pull it off. 25 missions flown and survived.

Wanting desperately to get his dance before watching Rosie's face fall at the news of what the other men were going to have to go through. But he's never been good at hiding his feelings, not from people he cares about. And Rosie had read it all over his face, asked the question, and the answer had fallen out of Jack's mouth before he could stop it. Because he wasn't talking to Major Rosenthal. He was talking to Robbie. Because he'd been holding on for months waiting for the chance to dance with his Robbie and send him home safe. Or to move him into some job on the ground where he'd stay near Jack and not be a target in the sky.

Jack stares into his empty glass and shakes his head when the bartender asks if he wants another. There's a circle of silence around him, all the boys having walked away to complain about the mission number going up outside of his earshot. Because they don't want him to feel bad or because they want him to feel alone, he can't guess.

He goes outside and walks away from the O-Club lights and the hardstand bustle. He walks to the fence line and finds a post to hold onto. He stares at the clear night and wonders how many bombs are getting dropped on London right this second.

There's movement behind him. He glances over his shoulder. It's Rosie. No surprise. "You're missing your party," Jack says.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Rosie snaps. He stands next to Jack and crosses his arms, stares hard into the night with his jaw tight. "Why didn't you tell me when I landed? I could have helped you tell the boys."

Jack wants to cry. Or laugh. He's not sure. "I didn't want to see you get hurt," he says.

"What? Because the boys get mad for a good reason? Please, Jack. I'm made of sterner stuff than that. You know that. If you'd told me, I could have helped."

Tears prick Jack's eyes. He blinks them away. "No. I didn't want to see you get hurt."

Rosie shakes his head and turns. He grabs Jack's arm and pulls him so they're face-to-face. "What the hell—"

"You'll re-up," Jack says, words scraping his throat as he fights against the grief crowding his throat. "You'll re-up. You won't go home. You won't take a job on the ground. You're going to re-up."

Rosie blinks, and his face softens, and there he is. Robbie. Jack's Robbie. Sweet and kind and smart. Rosie with the boys, the leader they need with his invites to walk them to the mess and his pep talks and his one-armed hugs. Rosie who leads by doing. Making room for replacement, speaking plainly about fear being part of war.

But Robbie. Robbie's just Jack's. Robbie's what his family calls him. Robbie's got all the same strengths, but he leans on Jack. Tells Jack his fears. Holds Jack close when they both need the touch. Comes to Jack's office a half-hour before they've planned to meet so Jack can't lose track of time. Kisses Jack soft and sweet when they go to their separate barracks at night.

Robbie, who Jack desperately wanted to get home or agreed to a ground position before he had the chance to do the noblest of things. The most correct of things. To stay and be Rosie to the boys.

But he can't be Rosie on the ground.

And Jack can see it on Robbie's face, that he knows it, too. That Jack's not holding onto an unreasonable fear he invented in his head.

"You can't watch me go down," Robbie says. He takes Jack's head in his hands and pulls him down so their foreheads touch. His thumbs wipe back and forth on the tear tracks of the few tears that have leaked from Jack's eyes.

"It's not fair to hope for it again," Jack says. "Not when you've pulled it off once."

Robbie shakes his head, then pulls Jack into a tight hug. "Hope isn't supposed to be fair, Jack. It's supposed to be hope."

Jack clutches the back of Robbie's jacket and holds on tight. "But it's not fair to ask you not to."

Robbie breathes in slowly. "Not fair to ask you, either. To go through it all again."

Jack breathes out hard. He's not sure he can even offer it. Robbie kisses just by his ear, soft and sweet.

"But one of us has to, and since I'm the one asking for more, I'm asking, Jack. Can you wait for me for another twenty-five? If I re-up, am I still your Robbie?"

Jack can't say anything for a long moment. Robbie rubs his back and shifts back half a step. Not enough they pull apart, just enough to let Jack breathe a little easier. "If I can't," Jack says, "am I still your Jack?"

Their eyes meet. Robbie's eyes are as teary as Jack's feel. "No one else could fill your spot, Jack. The way you are…even if I'm never your Robbie again, you'll always be my Jack."

And Jack breaks. Sobs silently and drops to his knees, hands sliding down Robbie's sides and legs. Robbie lowers himself more gracefully, doesn't speak as Jack cries and clutches at him like Robbie will disentigrate if he doesn't have a hand on him.

"You're mine," Jack finally manages. "Goddamnit, you're mine, Robbie, and you don't get out early by dropping out of the sky."

Robbie laughs, wet and broken, but then he gathers Jack close again and kisses him on the mouth, then the nose, then both eyes, and then, again, off-center on his eyebrow like he had that morning. "I swear I'll come back to you, Jack. If I have any power at all, it'll be to come back to you."

It's not fair, Jack thinks. Not right. The great Rosie Rosenthal shouldn't be so worried about one mere man like Jack. But it is right. It's everything. If there's nothing else to hold onto in this fucking war, Jack will hold onto Robbie and Robbie to him.

*

Jack watches from the bar when Rosie re-ups. There's a stunned silence, then cheers. A pile-on of boys as they rush to hug Rosie and shake him and a few even yell at him. For everything Rosie gives the boys, they give it back to him. If that weren't the case, the dread on Jack's chest might feel heavier.

But then Rosie walks over and cocks a hip against the bar and holds out his hand to Jack. "You owe me a dance," he says.

Jack stares. "Now?" he asks.

"You promised," Rosie replies. "Besides, the boys will go crazy for it. It'll cheer them up."

It will, and trust Rosie to use that as a reason, but the warmth in his eyes and the way he pulls Jack close as the boys hoot and holler and even exchange cash on a bet Jack is sure he doesn't want the details of, that's his Robbie through and through.

[sweaterkittensahoy]

Rosie wonders if Jack's all that different at home as he is in England. He's a man who knows himself, and men who know themselves tend to always act mostly the same. So, the first time Rosie goes to Cleveland, he's excited to find out if there are any differences.

Truth is, Jack isn't all that different with his family on the surface. But his humor comes out more. He and his siblings have in jokes. At one point, Rosie walks into a room to find Jack and his older brother playing keep away from their sister (younger than Jack's brother, older than Jack himself). By throwing her toddler back and forth as the baby squeals with delight, and she threatens to stomp on their feet.

Rosie's so struck by it he has to sit down and compose himself. Here's the piece of Jack he didn't know. The carefree baby brother. Oh, he's even more in love now.

[sweaterkittensahoy]

Prompt: “Will you dance with me?”

Pairing: JackRosie

(I am trying to write older prompts first, but this just slapped me in the fact, so you get it right fucking now.)

The night of the actual V-E Day, they all stand outside and shoot up flares they don't need in lieu of fireworks, and Jack watches them go up, up, up in the air and feels tears in his eyes as he realizes signing off on using them means he won't lose another of these boys. Not in this war.

"There you are," Rosie says quietly, and he presses a glass into Jack's hand. Whiskey. He's got one for himself.

"You're drinking?" Jack asks.

Rosie shrugs and looks up as another flare pops off. "Not flying tomorrow," he says. "None of us are. I don't need to have a pep talk ready." He looks at Jack, and his eyes are bright in the flickering light of the flares and the barrel fires. He taps his glass to Jack's. "Happy V-E Day," he says.

"Happy V-E Day," Jack replies. He watches Rosie drink and thinks of the last sixteen months. Since Rosie first walked onto base excited and ready to fly, and how he stepped into the role he has now like he knew it'd be waiting for him sooner rather than later.

They've become friends, he and Rosie. A little something more even, though they haven't done more than look at each other in a certain way. The war had to have their attention.

But now.

It'd be romantic, Jack thinks, to tell Rosie how he feels as they watch all those red flares get used to make pretty lights in the sky.

"Suppose I'll be back to Cokes as soon as we're done celebrating," Rosie says, glancing at Jack and grinning a little sheepishly. "I've got to start my training hours."

Jack blinks. Stares. "Training--" His glass slips from his hand and hits the ground. It only doesn't break because they're on the grass.

"Whoops," Rosie says. "Here." He hands Jack his own glass, then crouches to retrieve Jack's. "Look at that," he says, holding it up so Jack can see it. "Landed flat! That's good luck right there."

"No," Jack says, shaking his head. "No, it's--you can't be thinking of going to the Pacific."

Rosie pauses, glass halfway to his mouth. "Of course I am," Rosie says. "War's not over. My bit's not done."

Jack's stomach turns over as another red flare goes up. He's read the reports about the Pacific. It's not like their war. Not on the ground. Not in the air. Even Rosie isn't that good.

"You've fought your bit," Jack says. "Your bit and another person's honestly. There are boys going home with half your missions on their books."

"And good for them, but I made a promise to myself," Rosie says. "You know that."

No one else's son goes in your place, Jack thinks. "Right," he says. He clears his throat. It's still tight. He drinks his whiskey. It's quality stuff, something Rosie must have found special to toast with him.

"Jack?"

Jack wipes his hand with the back of his mouth and watches a green flare go up. A yellow. He turns away and stares into the darkness. "You could go home," he says, body tight and hands shaking. He's not good with words like this, but he's going to try, goddamnit. "I know you want to fight so no one else has to, but...you won't be experienced like you are now. No matter how many training missions."

"Well, tell me how you really feel there, Jack," Rosie says, snappish. "I thought you'd understand of all people. You could come with. You could fly again."

Jack closes his eyes. "No," he says. "No, I want to go home and be someone's son again." He opens his eyes and glances at Rosie. "I want to be in love where it's safe to love someone out loud."

Rosie stares. He blinks. "Jack--What are you--"

"Goodnight," Jack says and walks away before he can give away even more. Before he starts crying and grabs Rosie's jacket and begs him not to go.

*

Rosie leaves him alone the next day. Jack sees him in the mess and around the base, but they both discreetly move so they don't cross paths. There's a dance that night. It's going to be an absolute mess, Jack knows. He can't wait. The boys deserve this, a chance to feel victorious and proud and giddy. Jack's going to do his best to feel the same, but he spots Rosie again at dinner and there's a tender ache in his chest that doesn't go away.

But he dresses the part and lets the boys get a drink in his hand, and he listens to their stories and tells a few of his own and laughs and watches them laugh and roughhouse and just be free with themselves without the clinging desperation they've all carried for too long.

The band starts playing, and the boys rush off to find dance partners. Jack goes to the bar to get another drink. He puts down his empty glass, and then there's Rosie at his side. He leans against the bar and looks up at Jack. Jack looks at him, though he doesn't mean to. But he can't help it. He's never been able to help it. Rosie shines like a new penny on the worst days. For this celebration, he shines like a star.

"Will you dance with me?" Rosie asks.

"What?" Jack replies as the bartender sets down his fresh drink.

"One of those for me, too, please," Rosie says, then his attention is back on Jack. "Will you dance with me? Please."

"Why?" Jack asks.

Rosie ducks his head and thumps his shoe against the bar, but when he looks at Jack again, his shoulders are straight, and he's radiating confidence. "You know, I realized I loved you the night you told us the mission number went up. The way it wrecked you, it was all over your face, but you stood there, and you let the boys yell at you. Took it all so they get it out, and I thought, 'Wow, he loves them so much. Wonder if he'd let me love him that much."

Jack stares. The bartender puts a whiskey next to Rosie's arm, and Jack watches Rosie nod his thanks. He watches Rosie pick up the glass and take a sip.

"I felt you out a little," Rosie continues, staring into his glass. "And I know you picked up on what I was offering, but you turned me down. And I was pretty sure it wasn't because you didn't want to love me back, but maybe because you did, and there was a war on."

Jack nods. "Yeah."

Rosie looks at him again. "And when I re-upped, I knew maybe it'd never happen, but I didn't know what else to do. It wasn't just that I couldn't leave the boys to fight it without me, Jack, though that was most of it. I couldn't let an untested pilot take my place. Period. But...I also didn't want to leave you."

Jack watches him drink his whiskey down. "But you--"

"I forget what it's like on the ground. The waiting. You can't fight for us down here while we're up there. You can only wait. And that must be agony. I thought you'd want to get up again and try out The Pacific with me, but..." Rosie looks around the room. "A lot of the faces I barely knew are back," he says, "and a lot of these faces I barely know."

Jack can only nod in agreement. He manages to take a sip of his drink.

"I took a lot of time to think today. I thought about what you said. You want to be someone's son again. You want to be in love out loud. And I'm not saying I don't still feel the urge to train up and fly again, but I look at all these faces I barely know, and I see what you mean, Jack."

Rosie looks at him again, and it's warm and sweet and content. "I want to get to know your face really, really well," he says. "And I want to know all sorts of other things, too, but for now," He gives Jack a sweet smile and holds out his hand. "I'd like to find out how you dance."

Jack reaches out and takes Rosie's hand. "Okay," he says. "Yes."

There's a wolf whistle as they step on the floor, then a smattering of hollers and hoots. Jack puts his hand on Rosie's waist to lead, and Rosie looks at him like it's just the two of them in the world, and Jack can't hold it back any longer. The war's over. They've lived. Rosie's not going to the Pacific. He leans down and Rosie tips his head up, and they share a kiss, and the hollering gets louder.

"They love us out loud, too," Rosie says.

And Jack laughs and starts to dance and thinks, yeah, these boys surely do.

[sweaterkittensahoy]

Jack Kidd worn out and barely awake and desperately needing to stay upright for another few minutes to finish mission planning.

Rosie walks in and walks behind his desk. Leans down and wraps his arms around his shoulders and just stays there quiet and warm for the few minutes. He knows Jack's not going anywhere until he's done, so he'll just come to Jack.

[sweaterkittensahoy]

Write angsty Dougley!

He'd have been foolish not to take the Group bombardier job. That's what James thinks to himself over and over. I'd have been foolish to refuse. I'd have been foolish to refuse.

But then he watches Just-A-Snappin' go up without him. He watches Ev go up without him. He stands in the control room with all the other brass, and he watches his fort and his fella disappear into the air.

"James," Jack says very quietly, and James starts at the use of his first name. Jack is watching him with that careful stare he has. The one that shows he cares but nothing else. "Come on," he says.

And James realizes only he and Jack are still standing in the control room. Everyone else is sitting down and working. The rest of the brass have gone.

"Sorry," James mutters.

Jack pats his back and leads him outside. Harry's a few yards away. Harding and Red are farther away, walking towards headquarters.

"Hey," Harry greets when Jack and James walks up. "Welcome to the why the fuck did I stay on the ground club."

James laughs, surprising himself. "There's a club?"

"Only if you were dumb enough to stay on the ground while your fella goes up," Jack says. He takes out a cigarette and lights it. "Harry's president."

"Fuck you," Harry says. He reaches out and clasps James's shoulder, giving him a good shake. "He and Ev will keep an eye on each other, same as always. Come on," he says. "Let's get a drink."

James falls into step with them. "I know it's a good promotion. I know I'm doing the right thing. But..."

"Better up with them then down here waiting," Jack says. "We know."

James watches the way Jack scans the sky. "I didn't even know you were seeing anyone," he says.

Jack glances at him, and James is surprised to see him blush. "It's new," Jack says, though he looks very pleased to say it. "Well, new-ish."

"It's Rosie," Harry says, and James can't help a whoop of laughter at the way Jack stops cold and glares at Harry.

"You have no fucking manners," Jack says to Harry, and James laughs harder because they all used to be on the same fort, fighting the same fight, and he hasn't heard Jack's particularly pissy tone in too long.

"Congrats, Jack," James says, reaching around Harry to pat Jack's shoulder. "He's a good guy."

"Thank you," Jack replies. "We're not trying to hide it. Just trying to keep it between us for now."

"I'm telling Ev," James says, "but I'll swear him to secrecy."

Jack shrugs. "It's fine. I know Rosie's told his boys. I just don't want anyone thinking I'm doing him any favors as Air Exec."

"Ah, yes, the famed power of a favor from the Air Exec," Harry says, dry. "You can get him into a briefing first."

"Or assign him more training than the others," James adds.

"Give him early access to memorize coordinates."

"Make him give a lecture about wind shear."

"You can both shut the fuck up," Jack says, flicking his cigarette away.

James laughs with Harry, and he's glad to see Jack smile at them. He wants to be up in the air so much it hurts, but at least he's stuck down here with fellas he knows. Fellas who know him.

*

Ev makes it back. Just-a-Snappin' has more holes in her than James cares to see from the outside, but Ev's only scratched, and Bubbles looks untouched, and the other boys are all alive and well.

James catches Rosie climbing into a truck with his own boys, and he glances at Jack. There's a bright look in his eyes, and when James glances back at Rosie, he sees it reflected.

Ev whistles and gives James a big wink when he looks at him. James winks right back.

When the boys are sprung from interrogation, they pour into the Officer's Club. Jack and Harry and James are waiting, and James beams when Ev rushes to him and pulls him into a tight hug.

"Miss me?" James asks against his neck.

"New guy did the job just fine, but he's not you," Ev murmurs in his ear. He pulls away just enough to see James's face and hold his face in his hands. "Damn, I missed you up there."

"Missed you down here," James says. He strokes his thumb along Ev's cheek and cups the back of his head. "Come here," he says, and he steals a kiss.

When they pull apart, Ev's beaming. He leans in and turns, back against the bar, arm tight on James's waist. James hands him a drink, and Ev toasts him before he drinks. James looks over. Harry and Bubbles have settled at a table with a few other people. Jack and Rosie are tucked into a dark corner. James can't say for sure they're kissing, but Jack's leaned in like maybe they are.

"Hey, look at that," James says, pointing.

Ev glances over, and his grin gets even wider. "Oh, so that's who he's sweet on."

James stares at Ev. "What? You knew?"

"I knew he was sweet on someone," Ev says. "But he never said who. How'd you know?"

"They tell you some secrets when you join Group," James says. "I can't share the rest. There was a blood oath."

Ev laughs and smacks a kiss onto James's cheek. "I won't ask," he says. "Just tell me again you missed me."

"I missed you," James says. "I'll always admit to that."

"Missed you," Ev replies. "But I'm proud of you, okay? Don't forget that. Couldn't ask for a better man to keep us all on target."

James has to swallow around the knot in his throat. He leans over and presses his forehead to Ev's temple. "Thank you," he murmurs.

Ev holds up his glass. "To my favorite bombardier," he says. "Always and forever."

James taps his glass against Ev's. "Always and forever," he promises.

[sweaterkittensahoy]

Prompt: “they’re gonna catch us—”

Pairing: Crubbles 😈

The door opens at the other end of the barn, and Harry goes very, very still. Bubbles, who is currently sucking a mark on his collarbone, does not.

"Joey!" Harry hisses as he hears footsteps coming closer. Two pairs. Army boots. "Someone's--"

Joey slides his mouth over Harry's and sucks Harry's tongue into his mouth. He cups Harry through his underwear and presses Harry's hand to his own erection.

Harry pulls away and presses his mouth to Joey's ear. "They're gonna catch us!"

"And?" Joey asks, drawl heavy. "Let 'em get a glimpse of you like this."

Harry grits his teeth and only just remembers his hand is on Joey's dick before he clenches his fists. "Joey!"

Joey rubs against Harry's hand and shifts so he can rub his fingers over the top of Harry's dick while rubbing the rest of him against his thigh. "Let 'em see how handsome you are. See what they're missing not getting you naked before I did."

Harry bites his lip and closes his eyes as the steps get even closer. Something hits the wall he''s leaning against, and he goes very still. Bubbles has the damn nerve to tuck his head against Harry's neck and start leaving small, sucking kisses, which only makes Harry's cock throb more.

"You--" Harry starts to say, but there's a moan from the other side of the wall, and he clamps his mouth shut. He shivers as Joey drags his own precum over the head of his cock, and he can't help but adjust his grip on Joey's cock through his shorts so he can feel more of the length of it.

Behind him, there's another groan, then a small squeak, and then a laugh that makes Harry's eyes snap open. "ROSIE?!"

All movement on the other side of the wall stops. All movement on his side of the wall stops. Joey stares at Harry, and even in the darkness, Harry can see he's fighting laughter.

"Harry?" Rosie asks after a long moment.

"Uh-huh."

"Busy?" Rosie asks, and Harry curses as whoever Rosie's with breaks down in snickers.

"Uh-huh."

"We'll find another place," Rosie says.

"I've got a good one," the person with Rosie says so quietly it almost doesn't carry.

"JACK?!" Harry screeches.

There's a long sigh. Joey finally gives in and laughs.

"I assume it's Bubbles with you," Jack says, sounding very tired.

"Sure is!" Joey chirps. "You didn't hear it from me, but the kitchen shed is empty."

"This never happened," Jack says.

"Sure didn't!" Joey calls back. He stares Harry in the eyes until they hear the barn door close, and then he howls with laughter, body pressed fully against Harry's front.

"Why are you laughing?!" Harry asks, shoving at Joey's shoulder. "This isn't funny!" he adds, trying to shake Joey, but at the first shake, their dicks line up, and he goes limp against the wall. Joey, bless him, pins him there and starts to rub himself off on him and, in the process, rub off Harry as well.

"Jack's got a private bunk," Joey says into Harry's ear. "Why fuck in a barn when you've got a bed to use?"

Harry can't think suddenly, the awareness that he and Jack may both like nearly getting caught. "Oh my god," he whispers. He pictures it, Jack and Rosie (Rosie?! How long has this been going on?! Harry's gonna talk to him about this--)

"Get back here," Joey says against Harry's cheek. He drags a kiss to Harry's ear and bites the lobe with a little too much pressure.

Harry's brain clicks off, and all he cares about for two minutes is kissing the breath completely out of Joey's mouth until they're both coming.

They breathe into each other's mouths as they calm down, and just as Harry's brain is gearing up to realize everything that's just happened, Joey leans over and murmurs, "Wanna wander by the kitchen shed, and see if we can catch a show?"

And, no, Harry does not want to do that. He does want to tackle Joey to the floor and neck with him until they're both hard again. So, he does that.