[ stolen ] a quick, stealthy, and impromptu kiss snatched in secret
[ injury ] a careful kiss on a partner's wound to make it all better
[ apology ] a kiss offered as a way to apologize or make amends
If any of those spark joy!!!
(These have all sparked joy, and I have combined all three, specifically for you, from the depths of my inbox…and you know where this is set. XD 💚🖤)
*****
"I'm sorry."
"I know."
"No, I mean it. I'm so sorry—"
"Darby, it's okay."
Darby opens his mouth to call bullshit, then snaps it shut. It's not like he needs to advertise any more than he already does—or at least feels like he does. People know about them, of course, but not everyone, and they don't…know. They don't talk about it, they just can't keep their hands off each other.
Literally. Like now, with Darby standing beside where Jack's sitting on the table in medical after their title match, their hands forming a little pile between them. Tangled fingers, palms finding their way together and apart again as they keep adjusting for comfort without ever breaking contact. Jack occasionally listing to the side to press his shoulder to Darby's, Darby curling fingers over Jack's knee before slithering away again.
"It was fun, though, right?" Darby asks hopefully, moving to stand in front of Jack so he can rest his hands on either side of Jack's hips as he leans in. "You, me, in the ring, tangled up together…"
Jack's cheeks go bright pink over his scruff, and Darby's thrilled he talked him into trimming the beard so he can better see the flush creeping higher when he's getting worked up.
"Darby…"
"Don't think I didn't catch you feeling up the bruises you left on my goddamn neck, baby—lucky for you, Gabe Kidd tried to strangle me last week so nobody twigged that they were hickeys."
Jack's expression goes from sweetly embarrassed and aroused to that smoldering fury in a heartbeat. He looks every inch the predator as his lips quirk to bare his teeth, reopening his split lip to stain his teeth just a little, and Darby's heart races with how badly he wants.
"I will gouge out his eyes. I'll bury my knife in his skull for—"
Darby leans in and kisses him—quick enough to escape notice, careful not to apply painful pressure to his wound, lingering long enough to neutralize the acid burning in Jack's blood. He knows, because Jack kisses him back, discreetly tangling one of his hands up with Darby's.
When they part, Jack's eyes are slow to open—but he's all pink cheeks and sweet smiles again, the fury dwindling to a low burning fire deep in those warm brown eyes.
"Darby…"
"It was fun. Right?"
Jack rolls his eyes, biting his lower lip with a smile.
"…it was a lot of fun." He confesses. "And I did win."
"Yup." Darby replies, popping the final sound between his lips. "And still your National champion."
"…so I'm honestly not bothered about the fat lip if…"
Darby raises an eyebrow. "If…?"
"If…you give me a shot at the world title when you beat MJF."
Grinning, Darby stops caring who sees: he frames Jack's face between his hands and leans over to kiss his forehead.
terrible news, fam, the bad artwork turned out weirdly good and i'm dying over it. what led to this moment? where are they? why are darby's pants down? given the playing cards and the empty film canister, i'm guessing this is some sort of truth or dare roster game. someone should write it.
it’s not always easy for jack. darby tries making it easier.
[mini drabble]
“So, can I ask?” Darby gestures to Jack.
Jack sniffles, the frozen bag of peas crinkling against his swollen face. “It was for my sister’s photo shoot,” he explains with a cracking voice. “A project for one of her classes.”
Darby can take in Jack’s attire fully, now that he’s not getting the shit kicked out of him. The red dress is torn at the sides leaving a gaping hole at his hip, and Jack’s runny makeup had dried ages ago. He looks like Cinderella after the ball, after the carriage turned back into a pumpkin.
“Well, I thought you looked very pretty as a girl,” Darby shrugs.
Jack blinks slowly at him. Then, he scoffs, shaking his head. “Gee, thanks.”
“And you’re pretty as a boy, too. Whichever makes you feel better.”
Jack breathes in deep and sighs slowly. “You don’t gotta be nice to me, now. You can go if you want.”
Darby frowns. He sits next to Jack. “And what if I don’t want to go?”
Jack looks at him with wide eyes. He laughs, startled. “Why would you want to stay?” he blurts.
Darby pulls down the bag of peas to admire Jack’s face. He leans in and presses a soft kiss to the bruise before placing the bag back over his eye. “Because I like you, dummy.”
Jack stops breathing for a second. Then, he smiles, and it’s as if you can see the butterflies in his stomach float to his eyes. “Wow,” is all he can say before he drops his head to Darby’s shoulder.
