Chapter Text
“The way’s clear,” Ana’s voice called quietly over the com.
“Acknowledged. We’re going in. Initiate radio silence.”
Soldier 76 hefted his strange gun. His usual weapon was strapped to his back, just in case. This was a special, stealth mission. Usually stealth was not his specialty, especially considering the glowing visor, but there was no way in hell he’d be left out of this operation.
They were finally going to capture Reaper.
A couple of the new whiz kids managed to intercept some encrypted transmissions, unnoticed. For once, they were a step ahead. After months of ambushes and Reaper being one step ahead, they’d finally get the drop on him. And Winston had devised a way to take him alive...Most likely.
He should be in the center of this warehouse, which served as an impromptu home base for the latest band of thugs he’d taken up arms with. He should be monitoring their mission status from inside. Why he wasn’t going personally was anyone’s guess. It raised some suspicions among the team, but not enough to stop the operation.
76 looked to Tracer, gave her a quick nod and signaled for her to move out. She returned a sharp nod, and blinked out of sight, Morrison creeping slowly after her.
Jack felt like his heart was in his throat. He’d run hundreds of missions, hell, probably thousands by this point, and never felt this anxious. Then again he’d never set out to try and capture a friend before. A former friend. Who was he kidding? He and Reyes had been far more than simple friends. The news that Reyes had been killed devastated him. He’d been unable to focus on anything but his grief for weeks, months...it was like a piece of him had been torn away.
Though now, he wasn’t sure which pain was worse. The thought of Gabriel’s death, or knowing he was still alive and so very changed. Jack had to know what happened to him.
The group crept through the darkened warehouse. Tracer and a few others taking point, silently appearing behind and neutralizing any stray guards they located. It was all going according to plan.
Finally they found him. A black hooded figure standing in front of a monitor sitting on a folding table that sagged under the weight of one too many computer and server boxes. He seemed to be fully engrossed in whatever he was doing, leaned over a keyboard, pecking away angrily at it, an impressive feat considering his large, clawed gloves. Most notable of all, Reaper’s twin shotguns lay on a flimsy chair a few paces away, completely unattended. Morrison almost couldn’t believe his eyes. He caught Tracer’s attention, and made a few quick hand signals, gesturing to the guns. She grinned back and signed her acknowledgement. She rubbed her hands together, and blinked out of view.
“Cheers, Love!” Tracer chimed, a Cheshire cat grin on her face as she hefted the two shotguns, which looked absurdly large compared to her tiny frame. Reaper whipped around, probably about jumping out of his skin at the woman’s sudden appearance.
As quickly as Tracer appeared, she vanished with the guns. 76 sprang out of his hiding place with a perfect shot of Reaper’s back, and fired. Dozens of electrified pellets flew out, showering over Reaper, forming a sparking net. For a second, it looked like Winston’s contraption was working, as the pellets began to form a cohesive force cage around the man...until Reaper melted into the floor, and reappeared behind 76.
“Hello again, Jack,” that low, eerie voice rumbled from behind Reaper’s mask as he lunged. The two grappled over the gun for a moment, Morrison managing to slam Reaper up against an empty shipping container. He felt momentarily triumphant: he almost never bested Reyes in hand to hand combat, until he realized that was exactly where Reaper wanted him to be.
“You’re in the way, 76, I don’t have a clean shot!” Ana’s voice barked over the com. Reaper suddenly twisted, grabbing Morrison and in a blinding motion dragged the both of them inside the empty crate, safe from sniper fire, only one exit, cornered, but covered. Reaper tossed Morrison like a rag doll, leaving the soldier sprawled on his face, and ripped the gun from his back.
Shit! He’s armed! Morrison spun, aiming Winston’s gun, just in time to see the barrel of his own pulse rifle pointed at his face. Then something happened. Reaper hesitated. And Jack didn't. 76 engaged the secondary fire on the gun, Winston warned him the secondary fire could drop an elephant, and more than stop a normal man’s heart. It was a last resort. Jack held his breath and hoped for the best.
Reaper’s body went ridged as what looked like a hundred taser darts lodged into his chest. He let out a strangled noise before clattering to the ground. Jack scrambled forward as Reaper’s body went slack and motionless. He tried to feel for a pulse, but the kevlar body suit effectively blocked his neck. He reached for Reaper’s mask, though this time it was his turn to hesitate. What happened to you? What am I going to find under here?
“76, wait.” Mercy’s voice came in over the com. She was monitoring the mission through Jack’s visor. “I’ve got a read on his vitals. They’re...strange, but he’s alive. I’m worried that mask might be doing something to help stabilize him. It’s best to leave it on until I get an in person look at him.”
Jack leaned back, acknowledging quietly, his hands shaking. He desperately wanted to tear that mask off, but there was a nagging fear of what could be underneath...Ana wouldn’t tell him what she saw. So it would remain a mystery for a short time longer.
Tracer blinked into the entrance of the shipping container, all smiles, still carrying the two shotguns. “We did it! Hooray!- And am I mistaken, or did he call you Jack?”
76 nodded slowly, getting to his feet. “I’m afraid so.”
“A friend of yours?” Tracer quipped, a wide smirk still on her lips, though it slowly faded, seeing the look on Jack’s face.
“Yeah. And of yours.”
“Beg your pardon?”
Jack gestured at Reaper’s unconscious form with his gun, half afraid the man would spring up at any moment, or turn into a black fog. They hadn’t told the team yet. They didn’t want it interfering with the mission... “It’s...Reyes.”
Chatter exploded over the com. 76 quickly muted it. Tracer just stared at him, then down at Reaper, and back again, slack jawed. “This...THIS is Reyes? He was dead!”
“So was I.”
Tracer stared down at the unconscious wraith, her features sagging with sadness.
“What...what happened to him?”
Jack shook his head sadly, kneeling next to his old companion’s unconscious form, staring at the mask, trying to catch any glimpse of what lay beneath.
“I don’t know.”
***
Laughter and cheers rang out through the hotel bar, as the members of the joint Overwatch/Blackwatch task force celebrated their victory. But Reyes didn’t feel like celebrating. He stood at the bar, staring blankly at the drink menu, seething. It had been an emergency operation, usually there wouldn’t be a joint mission like this. The two groups didn’t even train together anymore, but too many operatives from both organizations were out on assignment. This had been an emergency, they gathered who they could, and charged in half blind.
The two groups emerged from the operation victorious and with barely a handful of injuries among them. It really was cause for celebration.
Lena appeared at Reyes' side. She offered him a gentle nudge with her elbow and a sad, understanding smile. If anyone understood why he was upset, it was her.
“Cheer up love, we all made it out, didn’t we?” She said, leaning on the bar, studying Reyes’ face. She was the reason the operation nearly ended in disaster. But it wasn’t her fault. She did her job perfectly. Just sometimes the enemy can outmaneuver you even when you make no mistakes. No. The operation nearly going to hell was Jack’s fault.
It wasn’t the first time he’d been under Morrison’s command. While it did chafe him, that wasn’t a huge problem. He could respect the chain of command. The two had been friends a long time, Reyes respected Morrison’s abilities. Most of the time. Besides, the promotion was all bureaucracy and politics anyway. The blond twit had a level of charisma Reyes lacked. Anyone with two eyes could recognize that, including Gabriel. Reyes was simply too threatening for politicians to feel safe dealing with. Too direct. To a degree it suited him just fine, he hated dealing with their kind as much as they hated dealing with him.
It started when Tracer’s chronal accelerator had been hit by a piece of shrapnel while she was in the center of the enemy stronghold. It left her stranded while she tried to get the unit back online. By then the enemy hadn’t been neutralized entirely, but the operation succeeded in securing the weapon this particular band of terrorists had acquired. The mission was over, they were grossly outnumbered. Any attempts to rescue Tracer were almost bound to end in numerous fatalities. Besides, if she got the unit working before she was found, a feat she insisted over the com she was capable of, she would have been able to escape. Blinking out of tight spots was her specialty, after all.
But no, Jack felt the need to play the hero, and ordered five men in after her. Five members of Blackwatch, no less. Gabriel’s men.
“What?” Reyes had growled over the com upon hearing the order. He was too far removed from Tracer’s position to be involved. He was clearing a path for their retreat with the weapon. One of the terrorists leapt down from a balcony, aiming the butt of his gun at the Reyes. The agent smoothly stepped aside, aimed his gun, and blew the attackers head clean off at point blank range, showering himself in a red rain of gore. He wiped his mouth off with his sleeve, scanning for more attackers before he spoke again. “That’s suicide.”
“Yeah! I got this! Ah-!” Tracer’s peppy voice chimed in, before it was cut off with gunfire.
“I said move out! We got your backs.” Morrison barked over the com.
“...Sir?” The tentative voice of one of Reyes unlucky soldiers came in through the com. It wasn’t their backs they, or Reyes, were worried about.
He ground his teeth. There was no choice. “You heard him.”
Luck. Dumb luck and the enemy's stupid mistake saved them in the end. The exact incident was recorded on someone’s headset, and the idiots in the bar had played it about a hundred times already, cheering and toasting with every replay. But every replay just served to make Reyes angrier, and angrier.
A grenade flew through the air at his men, just as another terrorist flew through the air, hurled by Reinhardt’s freakish ability to bodily launch people. The grenade bounced off the terrorist’s unfortunate companion, and clattered back into their midst before going off. Reyes’ men were then able to clean up the stragglers and extract Tracer.
Impressive? Perhaps. But dumb luck. A bad call. One that could have easily ended in six dead operatives instead of possibly one.
“Here, Love, why don’t I buy you a drink?” Lena said, slipping the drink menu out from under Reyes’ fingers as he continued to stare blankly through it.
He looked her over with a faint frown. “Are you even old enough to drink?”
“Oh, so I’m old enough to charge into battle to protect the planet,” she held up finger guns, making the appropriate firing motion at Reyes with a wink, “but not to imbibe intoxicating liquors?”
He frowned, well, she had him there.
She planted her palms on the bar, lifting her feet off the ground to get as far over the bar as possible. “Hey bartender! Get us a couple Tracer Specials, would’ja?”
A faint grimace seemed to cross the bartender’s features. “Okay…”
Reyes had already been sucked into joining a round of tequila shots… And a round of Kamikazes… what was with this group and shots? At least he dodged the round of some horrifying fluorescent green concoction. But, whatever strange mixed drink Lena was getting him could be a nice change of pace. Until the bartender slid a couple of shots at them. Again.
Lena laughed at the look on Reyes’ face as he picked up the shot. She clinked her glass against his with a wink. Reyes rolled his eyes and the two threw their drinks back.
A full body shudder of revulsion gripped Reyes as the unquestionably toxic concoction poured down his throat. He slammed the shot glass back down on the bar, clamping his free hand over his mouth, trying to suppress a gag as he shuddered again. He slammed his fist into the bar, his eyes watering, while Lena laughed, patting him on the back.
“Great, isn’t it? I’m thinkin’ of calling it the ‘Time Skip’.”
“Great is not a word that comes to mind.” Gabriel rubbed his face with both hands as several people looked to see what the fuss is about. “Fuck, what was that? Wood alcohol and paint thinner?” He reached half blindly across the bar for something to chase it with. He heard a muffled protest as he grabbed someone’s drink to wash it down. The fruity liquid did the trick, removing the vile burn from his tongue. He finally glanced up at who he’d stolen the bright pink concoction from, and was startled to see McCree scowling back at him.
Reyes looked to the fruity drink, then back to McCree. The cowboy glared, snatching the glass back. “I’m takin’ it to someone.” He grumbled defensively as Reyes released the drink with a twisted smirk.
“If you say so.”
“See? There’s a smile! All it took was knowing McCree has the same taste in drinks as my gran’.” Lena said gleefully, patting Reyes on the shoulder as the soldier’s smirk grew to a grin.
“I said it ain’t mine!” McCree barked from across the room, drawing laughter from Lena and Gabriel, and some angry swearing from the cowboy.
“C’mon, Love, let’s join the party.” Lena chimed, hooking her elbow in Reyes’, escorting him to the table.
The two made their way back to a cluster of tables the unruly group had pushed together in an attempt to have everyone seated together. Its surface was littered with pitchers, both empty and not, glasses, dozens of booze soaked napkins attempting to wipe up dozens of spills...and plenty of untouched spills, once they’d given up on trying to contain their mess. The staff would probably be quite angry about the mess they were making, if it weren’t for the fact they’d likely already made damn near a month’s salary in tips. Overewatch’s penchant for trashing bars was going to get them in trouble someday...But probably not today.
Gabriel found himself seated between Reinhardt and Lena. A large part of him wanted to just disappear, slip away to his room, and call it a night. He was in no mood for celebrating this particular victory, if it could even be called that. But his men were enjoying themselves. And he hadn’t seen some present members of Overwatch in a while. He should at least try… Even though gunshots still rang in his head, and he wasn’t sure he had been completely successful cleaning someone else’s blood from his ear (how had that even happened?) Though any more, it seemed, gunshots were always ringing through his head.
Sometime later, cheers went up from around the table. Reyes looked up from his drink, unsure how long he’d been staring at it. Replaying snippets from the battle through his head. Jack had walked into the room, his arm in a sling; He’d managed to sustain one of the few injuries during the operation when a stray bullet tore through his arm. He smiled and waved at the table with his good hand. Lena blinked out of her seat, appearing at Jack’s side, throwing her arms around him.
“Take my seat! I’ll grab you a drink!” Lena chimed, disappearing, and reappearing at the bar before Morrison had a chance to respond. He laughed.
“I’ll pass on the drink! Angela has me on some pretty solid painkillers. Think I’m woozy enough without causing liver damage.” He called back to Lena, though he took her up on the offer for her seat, settling in next to Reyes. He knuckled his friend in the shoulder, still smiling widely. “Hey, why so grim? I thought this was a party.”
A thousand responses flickered through Reyes’ head, but before he could respond Tracer re-appeared, plunking a soda down in front of Jack before skipping away, pulling another chair up to a different section of table, joining seamlessly into their distant conversation.
“You know damn well why,” Reyes growled, as Reinhardt accidentally jostled him, gesturing a little too widely while telling some story.
Jack gave him a thin smile. “We’ll talk about it later, right? Just...try to enjoy yourself? I’ve missed having you around since the split.” He kicked Reyes gently under the table. “Like old times, right?”
As mad as he was, it was nice to have Jack next to him at the table. For some reason his presence put his mind at ease. A particular shape that belonged by his side. It was familiar, as he said, like old times. They were borderline inseparable for years. They worked well together. A perfect and deadly team. They knew each other so well they barely had to speak when they were on a mission. Each knew what the other was going to do practically before the other had thought to do it. They had been close, perhaps too close. Their companions used to joke that they bickered like an old married couple. They were probably right.
Morrison picked up his soda and clinked the rim against Reyes’ half forgotten beer. “To old times?”
Clever, toast to something he knows Reyes won’t protest to. Not the mission. He picked up his glass, about to return the toast, when Reinhardt’s story become a little too enthusiastic. The lumbering oaf flailed, drink in hand, and dumped the entire amber pint down Reyes’s front.
Gabriel sprang to his feet, swearing, as Reinhardt roared apologies, picking up a pile of half soaked napkins to try and dab some of the beer off of Reyes’s shirt. He batted the enormous man away, while the table erupted in a mix of horrified gasps and raucous laughter. Jack, for his part, was doubled over the table laughing.
“I AM SO SORRY.” Reinhardt bellowed, emptying the napkin holder of its entire load, rubbing the flimsy brown napkins down Reyes’ front.
“Stop- stop! I’m fine! I’m just...I’ll just go shower. It’s getting late anyway.” Reyes grumbled, finally fending the giant off. The room spun a little more than Gabriel anticipated when he stood so suddenly. He felt Jack’s hand grab his bicep to steady him, between laughs. It must have been that damn ‘Tracer Special’. He hadn’t had that much to drink. But god only knew what was in that abomination…
He cut a somewhat wavering path to the door, but successfully made his way up to his room. Fortunately it wasn’t a hard journey. They’d used this shitty hotel before. The owner was amenable to letting Overwatch take over the whole place, and keeping quiet about it.
He staggered into the dingy room, peeling off his beer soaked clothes and leaving a trail of garments on his way to the equally dingy bathroom. At least the shower was new. Pristine white and freshly tiled, in stark contrast to the rest of the bathroom. It raised some serious concerns about what exactly happened to the previous shower.
The water was bitter cold at first, but warmed quickly. He could have waited before getting in, but he wasn’t thinking clearly at the moment. His head was spinning, and it wasn’t just the alcohol. The operation, seeing Jack again, the bullets that still rattled around in his mind. He leaned his head against the shower wall, squeezing his eyes shut. No, no, it was just the booze. He just needed to sleep this off.
He ran his fingers through his wavy, wet hair. It was getting too long again. His gaze trailed down the blank white wall to the drain, where he was alarmed to see red swirling down as it had earlier, when he washed after the mission. He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head. How? He’d been caked in blood, but he’d been plenty thorough. He wasn’t hurt either, it wasn’t his…
He opened his eyes again and the red was gone. Just clear water. He slammed the water off, shaking his head. The beer was gone, he was clean enough. He staggered out of the shower and grabbed a towel, drying himself. As he scrubbed the water out of his hair, the door to his room opened. He’d left the bathroom door open, and apparently forgot to lock his room, leaving him standing stark naked in clear view of the intruder.
Jack took a quick step into the room and quickly shut the door behind himself. “Sorry!” He coughed. Reyes eyed him with a scowl, before continuing to dry his hair.
“You know, usually when you walk in on someone you’re supposed to leave before you shut the door…” He grumbled.
“Well, it’s not like I haven’t seen it before.” Morrison said with a smirk. Gabriel scowled at him, even if it was true. They’d been in enough communal showers, bunks, and other close quarters situations together. He’d seen Jack’s ass more times than he cared to count. Not that he was looking. Though sometimes his back would catch Gabriel’s attention, perfectly sculpted, broad shoulders, the rippling muscles and smooth skin marred by battle damage-
He really did try not to take note. But mistakes happened.
Jack started gathering up Gabriel’s discarded, beer soaked garments while his friend finished toweling off. He piled them somewhat neatly on the bathroom counter. Reyes tossed his towel to the floor, which Jack also picked up, and rummaged through his bag for a pair of clean sweatpants, which he promptly pulled on.
“Are you okay?” Jack asked, leaning on the door frame of the bathroom, his good hand planted firmly on his hip, watching Gabriel.
“I’m fine.” Reyes muttered, sitting on the bed. He rubbed his face, leaning his elbows on his knees. “Just a bit drunk.”
“No...no, you’re not fine.” Jack said, stepping forward, leaning over his friend. “I’ve seen you drunk. You’re not usually like this.”
“Then no, I’m not fine. I’m angry. With you.” Reyes hissed, his gaze snapping back up. He stood abruptly, forcing Jack to stagger out of his way.
“Look, I know you didn’t think it was the right call. But we couldn’t leave one of our own behind-”
“What are you talking about?! We have to leave agents behind all the time!” Reyes snapped, striding a few paces away, running his hands through his hair. There weren’t many places to escape to in this cramped room.
“You didn’t leave me behind…” Morrison murmured. Reyes clenched his fists, he should have seen that coming. For a moment he could almost feel the weight of Morrison’s half unconscious, limp body over his shoulders as he carried the man to safety under heavy fire. Against his own best judgement.
“That was different.” He growled back. It was a stupid. A decision driven by sentiment instead of strategy. A senseless risk, a sign that they didn’t belong in combat together any more.
“How so?”
“It was only me!” Reyes snapped, spinning back around, surprised at how close Jack had gotten. Or maybe he was there the whole time. “I risked myself going after you. No one else. And it was a mistake.”
“So. Saving me was a mistake?”
Reyes glared, clenching his hands into fists. He was too drunk for this, he couldn’t think straight, and Jack knew it. The slimy bastard knew this was an argument Gabriel couldn’t win, not right now, with his brain pickled in one too many shots. That’s why he kept pushing. Staring at him with those vibrant blue eyes, standing just a little too close.
Finally he managed to put a sentence together. “You compromised the mission. You risked five men’s lives- my men...for one agent. An agent who likely could have escaped on her own.”
“Is that what this is about, because they were ‘your’ men? They were the best position to strike. You know me better than that, I would have sent my own-” He paused mid thought as Reyes abruptly walked to his pack, beginning to rummage through it again.
“I’m done discussing this.” Reyes grumbled. He was done with the conversation, he was done with being awake. Exhaustion was starting to weigh on him, his head was spinning, and Jack was being a manipulative ass, as usual. Finally he found the item he was looking for. A small pill bottle.
“Hey now, what are those- hey-” Morrison appeared behind him, reaching for the bottle. Reyes pulled back, fighting the soldier for it.
“They’re prescribed, I need them to sleep. I’m going to bed.” He spat as Jack continued to try to pry the bottle from his grip.
“I don’t give a shit if they’re prescribed, you’re drunk as hell. You can’t mix sleeping pills with that!”
The two grappled over the bottle, Reyes staggering to his feet, fending off his handicapped opponent with ease, despite his intoxication. Until Jack grabbed his wrist and twisted, a basic self defense move. One meant to disarm an opponent. And it worked, pain shooting through Reyes’ hand as he was forced to drop the bottle. But the pain seemed to flip a switch in his mind. The pill bottle was forgotten before it even hit the floor. Suddenly he was just fighting someone who’d managed to disarm him.
The violent response caught Jack off guard, and before he was even aware what was happening Reyes had him slammed against the wall, tightly pinning his good hand to the wall, the fingers of Reyes’s other hand wrapped around his throat, squeezing, holding him in place.
“Gabe-!” Jack choked out, his eyes wide with alarm. The startled exclamation snapped Reyes back to reality, or some semblance of it. He was almost startled to find himself pinning Morrison. He immediately loosened the pressure on Jack’s throat, though didn’t remove his hand entirely as he tried to parse together what just happened. He stared at the other man, confused.
He took a moment to try and orient himself. They were standing close, very close, against the wall in his hotel room. He could smell Jack’s breath, and the unique scent of that ridiculous shampoo the other man insisted on using. The idiot even carted it along to missions. The other man was warm, breathing hard, scared- no, startled. And concerned. His eyes scanning Reyes’ face desperately trying to figure out what was going on in his head.
The wall was rough against the knuckles of Reyes’ left hand, where he had Jack’s right pinned. A shitty textured paint job for a shitty hotel. But strangest by far was the sensations coming from his right hand, gripped around the other man’s neck. So strong, yet at the same time so fragile. It didn’t seem like the throat of some super soldier, it was just like any other man. The skin was smooth, except for the rough layer of stubble. Something about the texture was endearing. He slowly slid his thumb across the man’s neck, feeling the thunder of his pulse, the protrusion of his adam's apple…
Jack’s eyes fluttered closed momentarily at the touch. He twisted his hand in Reyes’ grip, lacing their fingers together. It took Reyes’ mind a few moments to register the change, and then the thumb gently caressing his fingers. Reyes continued his exploration of Morrison’s neck with his own hand, entranced, drawing his thumb along the other man’s jaw line, edging closer.
“Gabriel,” Jack breathed, practically in his ear. The name sent shivers down his spine. Jack never called him Gabriel...And something about hearing his name, in that voice...
Years of smothered longing came trickling back into Reyes’ mind. First as a quiet stream, then as a flood, crashing around him, drowning him. And here they were, so close. Reyes was drunk, Morrison delirious off pain killers, slowly, gently leaning into Reyes’ hand as the soldier ran his fingers along his jaw, his eyes drifting closed. There they were. Alone. And so close.
It was only natural when their lips met. There was none of the awkwardness of Reyes’ previous first kisses. It was almost familiar. Warm, inviting. Gabriel trailed his hand up Jack’s face, burying his fingers in the man’s fine, blonde hair. He finally let his grip on Jack’s right hand slacken, and the soldier responded by immediately snaking his arm around Gabriel’s waist, pulling them closer together.
Eventually Jack pushed himself off the wall, forcing Gabriel back, the pair shuffling until they hit the bed, falling onto it. Jack’s hand eagerly roamed Gabriel’s exposed flesh, while Gabriel’s mouth traced down the other man’s jaw, to his neck. He trailed his tongue along the man’s stubble, until he reached the crook of Jack’s strong neck, where he bit down, hard. Jack went temporarily rigid, muttering a stifled expletive before melting back into Gabriel’s embrace, his fingers digging into Gabriel's chest. He leaned in and reciprocated, biting Gabriel’s shoulder, though without quite as much force.
Gabriel snaked his hands under Jack’s shirt, searching, exploring, but as he worked the garment up, a less pleasurable stifled gasp escaped the soldier, as the material twisted against his injured arm.
“Careful, ah- I’m not supposed to move it yet.” he whispered, leaning his head into the mattress as Gabriel muttered a quiet apology.
With that sudden jolt, the strange spell the two seemed to have been under slowly began to dissolve. Jack lay on top of Gabriel still, allowing his weight to sink against the other man, his hand on his chest, while Gabriel’s hands were still under Jack's shirt, idly caressing his back.
“What are we doing?” Reyes finally managed the quiet question after what felt like an eternity. Jack removed his face from the crook of Gabriel’s neck and planted another slow, long kiss on his lips, as if to silence the man. But after a lingering moment he pulled away, shaking his head.
“You should sleep- we should sleep…” Jack finally managed with a sigh.
Reyes nodded suddenly remembering. Sleeping pills. That’s how this all got started.
Jack was right. He shouldn’t be mixing those with alcohol.
The two dragged themselves onto the bed, Jack kicking off his shoes before they somehow found their way under the blankets, entwined in each others arms.
Gabriel leaned his head against Jack's shoulder, enjoying letting the musky scent of his companion wash over him. Part of his mind spun, wanting to figure out what just happened, needing to, but the rest of him silenced it, enjoying the moment, enjoying the peace as he drifted off to sleep.