Jack

[not_a_dove]

He came back later than he'd hoped, Holding his side as he came through the door, his hair damp and messy.

He didn't see Jack right away, staggering over to the sink to try and wash himself up before Jack could see he'd been stabbed. This week was an absolute shit-show, and it was only getting worse. For every good thing that happened, it was as though the bad only got worse.

Comments

[im_torchwood]

Jack was on the bed and heard Sam come in and hit the bathroom before he could even get up.

"Hey," he knocked. "You ok?"

He could smell the blood and stood against the jamb shaking his head.

[not_a_dove]

"Fine," Sam lied. "Just need a shower."

He turned on the water and shoved his bloody shirt into the bin. He still hadn't remembered to pick up spare clothes, and he swore softly under his breath before peeking out the door. "Can you do me a massive favour?" he asked.

[im_torchwood]

"Stitches or glue?" he asked, literally right there.

[not_a_dove]

"Bandage, it's a scratch. Uh, that wasn't the favour though. If, um- If I gave you some cash and my sizes, do you think you could pop out to M&S and grab a few shirts and some jeans?" he asked.

[im_torchwood]

"Would you rather have your own clothes?" he asked, a smug grin on his mouth.

"I took the liberty to go to your place for a few essentials. Clothes. Your shampoo is in there on the top shelf..."

[not_a_dove]

"You can't just break into my flat," Sam scolded. "...Especially when other people are breaking in to try and shoot me. Jesus, spook or not, that's just stupid."

He paused a beat, then asked. "Didn't happen to grab my hairbrush while you were there though, did you?"

[im_torchwood]

Jack sauntered away.

"Gratitude goes a long way, Sam," he called over his shoulder.

It was only a minute before he came back with clean clothes and a Happy Birthday gift bag with the things from Sam's loo.

[not_a_dove]

Sam looked at the bag, then at Jack. "I'm not thanking you for this," he said as he took it and went to take his shower.

He emerged a while later, damp but dressed in clean clothes, his wound still bleeding right through the bandage as he sat on the bed and lifted his shirt for a better look.

"Might be a bit worse than a scratch," he admitted.

[im_torchwood]

"I was hoping you were going to ask me to play doctor," Jack grinned.

He popped open a black kit and an impressive array of advanced tech popped open and lit up. When the green light bar was full, he lifted a glass rod and brought it closer.

One pass, then another, and the bleeding stopped. It began to itch, burn even, but even that ebbed to a numbness.

"Be really careful with it. If it splits open, I can't do it again, and stitches won't take," he cautioned.

[not_a_dove]

"Sounds like a brilliant solution," Sam said dryly, looking annoyed. "I have to work, Jack. If it splits am I just going to bleed out? You know what my work is, you think I can just ask someone kindly not to kick me in my stomach?"

[im_torchwood]

"You don't get sick days?" he joked. "Maybe you need back up, then."

[not_a_dove]

"I had back up," Sam muttered. "I really can't just stitch this now?" he asked, looking worried.

[im_torchwood]

"Sam," Jack soothed, "Trust me."

He kissed him then, his lips warmer than usual. Sam had no need to know what Jack was doing, or how, but the kiss gave the man enough energy to speed his healing.

"By the time you eat and sleep and head back out into danger, you'll be fine," he assured him.

[not_a_dove]

Sam felt something, but he didn't understand it.

"Sure," he said, but he still seemed concerned. "If you say so. Have you been here all day? You know you don't have to be here for me, I'm alright."

[im_torchwood]

"No. I've got a job, too," he scoffed. "I've only been here for a half hour, I think."

[not_a_dove]

"Right, at that agency no one I know has heard of," Sam replied.

[im_torchwood]

"Yeah. That one," he grinned.

"Knew you'd ask around," he added without pause.

[not_a_dove]

"Did you know I was going to get stabbed? Because that's something I could have used a heads up on," Sam joked in a flat tone.

[im_torchwood]

"I'm not psychic," Jack scoffed with a smile.

"You finish up and I'll go sort dinner," he told him.

[not_a_dove]

Sam cleaned himself up, grabbing a fresh shirt and brushing his hair. Eventually he found Jack in the kitchen, leaning against the counter as he watched the other man.

"I shouldn't stay here much longer. I'm just putting you in danger as well," he said softly.

[im_torchwood]

"I might be able to help," he pointed out. "I'm not scared. Don't worry about me."

Jack reached out to stroke Sam's cheek to reassure him.

[not_a_dove]

Sam was used to being the protector, not the protected, and he found himself leaning into the touch as his guard came down a little for just a moment.

"Just... Mind yourself. You might have eyes on you," he said after a moment.

[im_torchwood]

"I better. Who wouldn't want to watch this?" Jack grinned.

The timer buzzed and he turned away, giving Sam a show as he wiggled his ass before taking the ready meals out if the oven.

[not_a_dove]

"What are we having?" Sam asked, the whole situation strangely domestic. ...Though he wasn't sure he minded.

[im_torchwood]

"Chicken cordon bleu and potatoes," he announced with enough pride he may as well have cooked it and not simply popped it in to heat up.

"These meals are the best invention of the century," he declared.