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whumpcereal · 2 months

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behavior modification, a valentine special

hi! long time, no see. i was home sick from work today and marathoning valentine movies, so here's some sentimental jack and joe for you. part of behavior modification (masterlist here), takes place sometime in the first year after jack's rescue, during his lawsuit against WRU for his freedom.

content warnings for: trauma responses, references to past noncon, tooth-rotting fluff

future snippet, sealed with a kiss

“Is this for your special someone?”

The clerk’s smile is impossibly large; if she smiles any wider, Joe is convinced her face will crack. He understands. She’s probably asked this question at least seventy-five million times in the last week, and it’s a pointless one. Valentine cards are a perfunctory part of being in a relationship. Even if you don’t think your someone is all that special, you still buy them a card because that’s what the day demands. It’s part of the reason Joe never really cared about Valentine’s Day before. The forced displays of affection, the candy pink sheen of it all–it never seemed to reflect the kind of love Joe knew to be true.

But this year, it’s different. This year, the clerk’s question isn’t so pointless. Joe looks down at the red envelope in his hand, and he cannot hide his own smile. “Yes, it is. Someone very special.”

“Well, I’m sure she’ll love it!” the clerk sing-songs back. With a pop of her gum, she grabs the card and scans it.

Joe doesn’t correct her. At least, not overtly. “I hope he does,” he says softly, but the clerk doesn’t look up.

They never really celebrated Valentine’s Day before. Sure, Joe liked to rage against the consumer machine, but it was really Jack’s doing. Jack was indifferent, or, at least, he pretended to be. The truth was gift-giving occasions always made him a little uncomfortable. In Jack’s mind, gifts were offered only as part of a fucked-up trade; something he might want for something he certainly didn’t want to give. Joe had learned that the hard way.

They had been seeing each other maybe a month at the time, but Jack was already spending most of his nights at Joe’s place, even if they hadn’t quite consummated their relationship yet. Joe didn’t know at the time that Jack had basically been squatting in the library study carrels and showering at the fitness center, but even if he had, he was more than happy to have Jack with him as much as possible.

It had been a hard week. Jack was marking exams as well as taking his own, and Joe had been preparing for a conference; neither of them had come up for air in days. But when the grades were submitted and the presentation finalized, Joe thought they should celebrate. He thought he’d surprise Jack, and he brought home an expensive bottle of champagne and flowers.

Jack had paled when Joe handed him the roses. “What are these for?” he’d asked.

“For you, silly. For getting through this bear of a week.” Because I love you, Joe had thought but not said. It was too early. But he kissed Jack’s cheek, because that was something he was allowed to do. It made his body feel electric.

But when he pulled away, Jack was still staring at the roses. “Thank you.” He didn’t sound particularly thankful.

“Are you okay?”

A vacant nod. “Yeah. They’re beautiful. Thank you.” Jack set the roses down and turned toward the pantry. “Let me just get dinner started, and then–”

“You don’t have to make dinner tonight, Jack.” It was before Jack was his Jackie. Before Joe knew what he knows now. “I thought we could kick back and relax. Celebrate.”

“Of course,” Jack said softly, his chin dipping into the hollow of his throat. “Of course we’ll celebrate. I’ll take care of you.”

Joe knows that tone of voice now. The faraway note that lets him know Jack is falling back into old habits, a tone that, these days, precipitates a whispered sir. But he didn’t know then.

He didn’t see the way that Jack gnawed on his lip for a split second before he launched himself bodily at Joe, their hips crashing together, Jack’s hands in Joe’s hair. Joe fumbled to set the champagne on the counter behind him, to wrap his hands around Jack’s waist, but Jack’s fingers were already plucking open Joe’s shirt buttons, his mouth close behind. Jack was on his knees so quickly that Joe wasn’t sure what was happening.

“Jack–ohmygod, Jack.”

It was everything Joe wanted, but he didn’t know yet that it wasn’t what Jack wanted. Not until he’d looked down and seen tears squeezing from Jack’s pruned eyelids.

“Jack?”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I can’t, I just–I know you deserve it. I know what you want. I’ll try again. I’m sorry.”

It was then that Joe realized. The flowers. The champagne. Jack assumed they were all part of a transaction.

Jack told him everything that night. About Bill and the others. And Joe learned. He never surprised Jack that way again. Even after Jack came home from WRU–no, especially then–Joe tried to avoid surprises. For Jack, tokens of affection were part and parcel of an economy where he was the commodity. Joe doesn’t want him to feel that way, not ever again.

But a card. A card is different.

Joe knows about WRU’s training protocol now. Jack is lucky. Those bastards may have burrowed their poison into his brain, but he still has his words; he can still read. It was one of the only things that gave him comfort when he came home. Books were some of the only things he didn’t ask to touch. Joe understands. Words matter more than things.

The clerk pops her gum again. “You want a bag and a gold seal?”

“No, that’s all right.” Joe manages to stop short of telling her that he’s going to seal this one with a kiss.

“Well, have a happy Valentine’s day, sir.”

“I will. Thank you.”

The card is in its envelope when Joe lets himself into the apartment, and Jack is in the kitchen. The apartment is fragrant with a warm, red wine smell. Joe tiptoes to stand in the cheap stucco archway. He watches the way Jack’s basketball short-clad hips move softly to the old fashioned jazz that’s coming from the speaker on the counter. His body is shyer somehow, more tentative in its movements, but still lithe and beautiful. Jack is still Jack, even after everything he’s been through.

Joe lets out a low whistle, and Jack turns, a pasta server in his hand and a shy smile on his lips. Joe’s knees practically buckle.

“You’re home,” Jack says.

“I’m home, baby.” Joe moves into the kitchen, and when Jack offers his lips, Joe takes them, resting a soft hand on Jack’s hip. “What are you making?”

“Red wine pasta with toasted walnuts and arugula,” Jack says easily. He kisses Joe’s jawline.

“I know what one of those things is.”

Jack laughs. “My gourmand.”

“Or something!”

“How was your day, Joey?” Jack disengages slowly and goes to pour Joe a glass of wine.

It’s a difficult question some days. Jack’s days are so different from Joe’s. He isn’t allowed to leave the apartment without supervision until the litigation with WRU is over. Until it’s done, Jack is still technically Joe’s property. But only technically. Joe reminds himself of that every day.

“It was alright. I missed you.” But it’s easier now. Now, Joe has far fewer opportunities to miss his Jackie.

Jack smiles, sneaking a sip from the glass before he hands it to Joe. “I missed you too.”

Joe raises his glass and leans back against the cheap countertop. “I would’ve been home earlier, but I had to make a special stop.”

Jack is back at the stove. He upends the wine bottle into a sauce pan, and a cloud of rich steam rises in its wake. “Why’s that?”

“I wanted to get you a card for Valentine’s Day.” Joe says it gently, so that it will not be a surprise.

Jack freezes, his hand hovering over the sauce pan for just a second, but then his shoulders relax. He peeks at Joe. “You? Mr. ‘Conversation-Hearts-Are-Nuggets-of-Corporate-Greed’?”

Joe smothers his own smile. Jack remembers. “Yes, me.” He pulls the card from his pocket. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Jackie.”

Jack puts a lid over the pan and turns around. “I didn’t get you anything.”

“You’re all the gift I need,” Joe whispers, because it is true. Every one of the days he spends with Jack is a gift. He knew that even before, but every nerve in his body is certain of it now.

Jack tries to roll his eyes, but Joe can see that his words have landed. “Well, thank you,” Jack says softly. His fingertips whisper against Joe’s when he reaches for the card.

“Open it up, baby.”

Jack complies, carefully opening the red envelope that Joe absolutely kissed without a hint of irony after he licked the seal and pressed it closed. The card itself isn’t so special; just the standard hearts and flowers schlock that all the stores sell this time of year. But Joe’s written his own message inside. He watches Jack’s eyes move like a typewriter carriage over his uneven scrawl.

Jackie,

I know we don’t usually do this, but I feel like I haven’t told you enough how grateful I am that you are home. Nothing felt right without you, and I know now that it never could. You are my home. You are stronger than any foundation, and I will never stop thanking God that you choose to be with me, even after everything you’ve been through. And it is your choice. You have every choice. You deserve that.

I choose you, every day. I always will.

Love,

Joe

When Jack looks up again, his blue eyes are glassy with tears. “Joey–”

“I didn’t mean to–”

Jack shakes his head. He folds the card carefully and stares down at it. “You didn’t. Joe?”

Joe takes a hesitant step forward. “What is it, baby?”

“I choose this. I do.”

Jack reaches for him then, and Joe pulls Jack into his chest. “I know you do. And even if you didn’t or if–if someday, you don’t, I’ll always be grateful for this. Right now.”

Jack lets Joe hold him, and Joe knows exactly what this moment is worth. He wraps his arms so tightly around Jack that, if he didn’t know exactly how strong Jack is, he might crush him. But no one can crush Jack, and Joe knows how to hold him. Joe knows how to give him room and keep him close all at once. Joe knows how to let him choose.

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#behavior modification #jack kenyon oc #joe prescott oc #box boy universe #box boy whump #recovery whump #whump writing #haven't done much with these boys in ages #so have this humble offering #and enjoy the pleasure pain of a tough recovery #and their love #haaaa

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