Series: Viva Las Vegas Or: How Jack Morrison became Jack Reyes
Chapter(s): 1/1
Rating: T
Wordcount: 3,174
Warnings: brief mentions of sex
Summary: When in Vegas, do as the Vegasans do.
Author’s Notes: i just wanted to do r76 week like the cool kids :3c
No one could tell why this year's summit was being held in Las Vegas of all places.
It's doesn't fit, when you think about it. No one thinks "important, world changing decisions" when they think of the City of Lights and nothing has really cooled Vegas' debauchery - not politics, war, or time.
But there he was, Strike Commander Morrison of Overwatch, shaking hand with Senator Who-Really-Cares-They're-All-The-Same in Sin City itself.
The Bellagio was as beautiful as they said, the marble halls echoing with voices and the click-clack of overpriced shoes. The wine flows freely, waiters in pressed white shirts offering him bits of this-and-that. The lights make the night seem like daytime, the sounds of the city vibrating in the air.
Vegas was, and is, eternal.
Knowing what he does about politics, Jack assumes whoever chose the location has a girlfriend in the area. Hell, most of the people here probably have a girlfriend (or two) in the area. It's the nature of politics – get some work done, romance your paramour, get more work done. Two birds with one stone, right?
He feels slimy enough having to shake hands with these people; he can't see the appeal of hopping in bed with them.
You don't have to be a genius to see Jack's not a "Vegas" kind of guy. The loudest Bloomington ever got was the church's summer potluck when the pastor decided to fire up the organ and play Bruce Hornsby (every summer - there's only so much The Way it Is one man can take).
Vegas is pretty. Hell, Vegas is beautiful. But it's too much - the city's too loud, too...fast. It's like the ocean, churning and crashing. The people never seem to stop moving, they just kind of...gyrate everywhere.
He won't be singing Presley anytime soon, let's go with that.
But it has it's perks, he guess. Five years ago saw the repeal of the “12:00 AM Marriage Limit” and couples were getting hitched all hours of the night once more.
Admittedly, it's sweet to see young couples running out of gaudy, neon churches, their faces shining with delirious joy. Even from the windows of this too-perfect, too-expensive hotel, he could see them celebrating on the streets (talk about eagle-eye). Sitting another stifling gala, in another smothering suit, Jack can't help but watch these happy couples with a pang of jealousy.
He's no blushing bride, but...hey a man can dream right? He's never been interested in big weddings or elaborate ceremonies. They just seemed so stressful.
No, Jack leaned more towards the small and the sweet - a handful of friends, a quick ceremony. He feels like such a teenager, sitting in class and daydreaming about flights-of-fancy. He turns his attention back to the woman speaking to him, his face fixed into the best smile he could muster.
45 minutes feels like three days. When he's finally allowed to leave, he all but drags himself to the elevator. It's exhausting, kissing that much senator ass and he's really ready to sleep off this jaw ache.
And besides – he's not needed until 1930 the following night. Which means a whole 19 hours of sleep.
Christ he hasn't had that in ages.
Morning run be damned, after 2 straight weeks of 18 hour days he's going to get some shut eye if it kills him.
In everything but name, they're together.
So there's no real surprise when he gets off on the “wrong” floor, goes into the “wrong” hall, and puts his key into the “wrong” door. Jack has his own room but, as with most things, it goes unused.
He never did like sleeping alone.
Reyes snores lightly, already fast asleep. He's in a similar boat, overworked and with a staggering sleep debt. It's...unnerving – Reyes' is a naturally light sleeper, it says a lot that he doesn't awake the moment Jack opens the door.
Honestly, Jack's surprised Gabriel hasn't asked for a different room. When he'd stormed out that morning, he was certain Gabriel would want to get as much space between them as possible.
What had the morning's fight even been about? Jack can't even remember - only that there was no goddamned reason for it to turn into a fight at all.
Putting it lightly, things have become...strained between them. New standards of authority, new ranks, new procedures - politics has wormed it's way into their love life, a death sentence for most. Jack rubs his eyes, trying to shake the stupid fight out of his head.
Years ago, they didn't fight about this shit. Hell, they barely fought at all.
Sure, they had disagreements, differing opinions. There's no such thing as a couple that won't have that and anyone who says different is a piss-poor liar.
But they never turned into the screaming, name calling, trash-flinging matches they are now. Jack thinks about some of the things he'd said that morning, feeling an embarrassed flush creep down his neck. He knew better – knows better.
Still...still they sleep together. Considering circumstances, that says a lot.
During SEP and the war, they slept back to back - both with one eye open, half a mind ready to spring into action. Between them, they made one functioning human being and, at the end of the day, that's all you need.
Do that enough and it becomes a habit. Practice that habit for years and it become a necessity. Jack doesn't sleep well when he can't feel Gabriel's back against his. It makes him fell unprepared.
He tosses his clothes off, stripping to the skin. Taking off the heavy armor, he's not Strike Commander anymore he's Jack. He feels normal again - a feeling he never thought he'd long for so much.
It's easy to find Reyes' hoodie (one of many) in the dark. He slips it over his shoulders, nuzzling his face into the soft insides. The musk of cologne and cigarettes surround him, cradle him. His bare skin tingles as he stumbles to the bed.
“Move it,” he grunts, pushing Reyes to the side
Gabriel grumbles and rolls back. Jack flops onto the bed, heaving a great sigh, the tension leaking from his muscles. The blanket is soft and plush, the pillows cool to the touch and goddamn is he happy the UN is providing the best of the best for their commanders.
Arms snake around his waist, pulling him into the warmth of Reyes' chest. Jack groans, laying his head back on Gabriel's shoulder, his eyes fluttering shut.
"Hey." He whispers, fingers interlock with Gabriel's, "Sorry about this morning."
He gets a good two hours of sleep before he feels lips on his neck.
“Wuzzit.” He slurs, head still tucked into the pillow.
“C'mon Jackie – up, up, up.”
How Gabriel can go from 0 to 100 is completely beyond Jack. He'll never quite understand this man's bizarre form of energy storage - dead exhausted one minute, running around the room the next - really, it's entirely unfair.
“Wake up John” Gabriel nuzzles his mouth into Jack's neck, drumming his fingers against his hip, "I've been thinking."
“I'll alert the authorities.” Jack grunts, his words still slurring. It takes everything in him to be semi-coherent.
“Don't play. I'm being serious.” Gabriel snaps, nipping Jack's shoulder. He's sitting up on his elbow now, his fingers still drumming on Jack's hip, “We need to get a new apartment.”
“Gabe we have an apartment,” Jack opens one exhausted eye, searching around for his watch.
In reality, it's not so much an apartment as Gabe's quarters on base that they'd decided to share. And sure, the place is way too small for two full grown men, Jack will admit that whole-heartedly. But it's not like they have time to apartment hunt.
“No, a bigger apartment. Actually, no, no, a house.”
Oh lord, Gabriel's thinking big. Jack rolls his eyes, sliding off the bed to crawl along the floor, still searching for his watch. It's one of the things that he both loves (and, at this time of night, loathes) about Gabriel. An idea will pop in his head and suddenly he leaps headlong into it, going through every minute detail, every con and pro. Gabriel's mother had a name for it - "thinkin loco".
“It's 1:17, Gabe," Jack groans, holding up his (finally found) watch, "Did you really wake me up to tell me we should get a house? Because you could told me that when I woke up."
“Actually, I woke you up to tell you we should get married, but yeah, that too.”
Jack sits up bolt-right, eyes gone wide. Married?
“Have you been drinking?”
“No!” Gabriel guffaws, that wonderful, throaty laugh, “Why do I have to be drinking to ask you to marry me?!”
“Well, you've either been drinking or you're joking, and if you are joking, it's not funny.” Jack climbs back on the bed, irritated.
“I'm not joking either.” Gabriel's smiles, grasping Jack's hand, “We're in Vegas, after all, we could go right now.”
Gabriel seems so serious...Jack looks at their hands, studies them. He can almost convince himself that Gabriel's being entirely sincere. Gabe's smiling at him, that serene, sweet smile that he reserves for the people he cares for. It's so rare to see...
Why would he want to marry a screw up like you?
Jack snatches his hand back. He stands, beginning to pace the floor, back and forth, back and forth.
“Why?” Jack starts, his hands on his hips.
“Why not?” Gabriel swings his legs off the side of the bed, leaning back on his elbows, “I love you, you love me. Does it have to be more complicated than that?”
“Doesn't have to know.” Gabriel quirks an eyebrow – Jack hates how he looks so confident in everything.
“...A ceremony...we'll have to tell everyone.”
“No we won't because it's not “everyone's” businesses what we do. Hell, I'm not planning on telling anyone. Are you?”
"You've always got an answer for everything," Jack snaps, still pacing
"That's why you love me." Gabriel smirks
Jack gradually begins to slow, one hand still on his hip, the other running through his hair (He can hear Gabriel chiding already -“You're going to pull all your hair out like that!”)
And then he gives a breathless laugh, gingerly sitting besides Gabriel. Adrenaline begins to flood his body, his brain going sixty miles a minute.
“You want to get married, oh Jesus...”
His head falls into his hands, his eyes still wide and searching.
This...it doesn't make sense, not to Jack.
He's not a good person, he's possessive, he's easily jealous, he's petty - this list could go on and on for miles.
His skeleton's don't have a closet, they have a goddamned house and Gabriel wants the fucking keys. No sane person would do this.
"I...we got into the stupidest fight this morning." Jack spoke into his fingers, "We keep getting into these petty, bitchy arguements over shit that isn't even that important, and you want to get married. I don't understand..."
It keeps repeating in his head Why would he want to marry a screw up like you, why would he want to marry screw up like you, why would he want to marry screw up like you?
“We don't have to.” Gabriel's soft voice cuts through the fog. A hand rests on the small of his back, rubbing small circles, “We can wait as long as you want to. Hell, we never have to get married, if that's what you want. I didn't mean to scare you.”
It will always amaze Jack at how...kind Gabriel really is. His gruff exterior hides someone so warm, so unfalteringly selfless. Jack gives another breathless laugh, his eyes beginning to sting.
“No...no, I want to but...oh god, Gabe, you could do so much better.”
Jack knows his flaws. Knows them well. Knows them very well, knows that Gabriel doesn't deserve to be tied down to someone who can barely function as a human being.
But Gabe laughs. Grabs Jack by the shoulders and pulls him down, guiding his head into a kiss.
“Don't think I agree with that, mi luna.”
“You're a stupid man Gabriel Reyes.” Jack says into his lips, clutching onto him for dear life.
They stay like that for what feels like an eternity, holding onto each other while the city thrums beneath them.
“Okay.” Jack says finally, his eyes squeezed shut.
They dress as quickly as possible, as casually as possible – the best kind of hiding is in plain sight, right?
“There's a service elevator,” Jack says breathlessly, his hands playing with the edges of Gabriel's hoodie, “Down the hall. We take that, avoid the media circus outside...”
Gabriel laughs, grabbing his duffle bag – leave it to Jack to think about the “escape plan”
“We need a witness.” Jack's sitting on the edge of the bed, legs shaking, “Ana?”
“Naw, not this late with the kid.” Gabriel's looking in his bag for something, his back turned to Jack, "Now where did I..."
“Who then?” Jack's hands fiddle with one another, finally grabbing onto his knees. He chews his bottom lip - he's too old to be this nervous, but the butterflies in his stomach have turned into fucking hornets and he feels like he's going to be sick, “I guess they'll have somebody there-”
“Stop worrying. C'mon, let's go.” Gabriel tosses the duffle bag away, guiding Jack to his feet, “I know who to get.”
Contrary to popular belief, Jesse does not sleep in his hat. He does, however, sleep in his underwear and like a fucking log.
Which would explain why he shrieks when Gabriel hollers in his ear “UP AND AT 'EM, MIJO”
Jesse flies off the bed, lading in an ungraceful heap while Gabe wheezes with laughter.
“T-The hell y'all doin here?!” Jesse demands, his eyes darting between a choking Gabriel and a deer-in-the-headlights Jack, “What's goin on?!”
“Nice shorts,” Gabriel snickers at the dancing sheep that dot Jesse's boxers, “Get dressed, you're going to a wedding.”
“...A wedding?” Jesse scrambles to his feet, yanking his clothes off the floor, “Who the fuck's gettin married at 2 in the--”
He pauses, midway through the first jean leg and looks between the two. He knows that smirk Gabe's giving him.
And then he grins, bouncing to get into his jeans quicker.
"Well shit, if ya'll'da told me, I would've brought something fancier."
It's a whirlwind from the hotel, to the marriage license bureau, to a wedding chapel (who knew it would be so tempting to be married by Elvis?)
Jack stands in the hallway, staring at the empty pews and sleepy receptionist. They're the last couple of the night, it seems, the reverend welcoming them warmly.
"Let me know when you're all ready to get started." He says, getting his cards together and leaning on the pedestal - he's got this speech perfectly, could tell it to you by heart, Dearly Beloved we are gathered here today...
Jesse's sitting at the front pew, reading over the chapel's brochure ("It costs how much to have Elvis sing?!"), Gabe's adjusting his jacket in the mirror one last time. Jack continues to stare at the empty chairs, running his finger over the well-loved wood.
"I keep thinking I'm going to wake up," He murmurs, "That this is all a dream and you went back to base after this morning."
That I'm going to wake up alone, is the unspoken fear, And I'll have driven you off for real this time.
"Your dream wedding would have more food," Gabriel chuckles, taking off his beanie. He's freshly shaved, his beard messy, but acceptable.
“Maybe. And you'd have a full head of hair.” Jack grins, turning bright red. God, what he wouldn't do to see Gabe's natural hair right now.
Gabriel snorts, cupping Jack's face in his hands. The world seems to melt away, time standing still – they sway, foreheads pressed together. "Listen to me,” Gabriel murmurs, eyes boring into Jack's, “I know you probably didn't expect, you know...this.
He motions around before looking back at Jack, “I know you probably want a big wedding with the fancy shit. I'll make it up to you – we'll do this right, the moment we can.”
A lump's starting to form in Jack's throat, “We don't need to. This is right.”
Tears prickle at the corner of his eyes – this is right. This is totally, perfectly, absolutely right.
“C'mon, save the waterworks for the end.” There's a warble in Gabe's voice that he can't hide.
Dearly Beloved, we're gathered here today...
When the Reverend asks for the rings, Gabriel fishes a tiny box out of his pocket. He slips a silver band onto Jack's finger and that's when the real waterworks begin.
“Did you plan this?!” Jack demands, fighting back sobs. He feels like such a two year old right now and he could care less.
“No,” Gabe's eyes shimmer, “I've been carrying those around for a while.”
“You're a stupid man, Gabriel Reyes.” Jack cries, capturing Gabriel's lips with his own, “I would have said yes a long time ago.”
Jack can't stop looking at the band.
The curtains are open, a shaft of moonlight slinking into the room. The city glows and churns beneath them, feral and alive.
A trail of clothes marks a path to the bed – his body aches, heat still thrumming in his belly. The all important consummation of the marriage has left him boneless.
“I can't believe we did this.” Jack whispers. Gabe's eyes are closed, but he's listening, rubbing circles on Jack's lower belly, “Jack Reyes...I like the way that sounds.”
“Think you'll still tell everyone to call you Morrison?” Gabe rumbles.
“Yeah. Until we're ready to tell everyone.”
Gabriel makes a noise of agreement. Jack presses a kiss to Gabriel's jaw, their fingers locked together. There are love-bites all over Gabriel's neck and shoulders...they look good.
“What time do they need you again?”
“Good,” Gabriel bites down on the junction between Jack's neck and his shoulder, “Because you're not getting out of bed until 1929.”
Jack groans in delight, his toes curling into the sheets. They move together, the sheets soaked with sweat, the pillows and blankets tossed away. Skin to skin, heart to heart, it's hard to tell where one ends and the other begins.
They lay still, staring at one another.
“I...I still don't understand.” He says, squeezing Gabe's hand, “Why me?” The nagging doubt raises his head once again.
There's a pause. Gabe raises their hands up above their bodies, studying the way their fingers twine together.
“Because I love you. No matter what we fight about, no matter how many times we fight – I love you. Always will.”
Their bands shimmer in the dim light in the room.
“You know, we still have to look for that house.”
