more_flexible | [for greg]

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greg

[for greg]

That morning, at the clothes box, Jack had met Buffy. He'd been here more than a year and so had she, but what was amazing was that in the past seven months (almost to the day) he hadn't ever even seen her. Sure, he'd wondered, he'd thought about that name...dreamed about that name on the lips of a raving madman. That name along with ropes and blades and smothering darkness.

He'd just thought he was handling it better.

He'd collected enough shellfish for he and Greg and threw together a quick lunch after he'd left the basement. If he could keep busy, he could keep from thinking about it. From thinking about her. She barely came up to his chest and she was so pretty and young and if she'd been bound and there had been...no. He couldn't keep doing this to himself. He'd done what he had to do to stay alive, and he'd done all he could to keep people like Buffy safe. He tried not to think about Maladicta being hit, tried not to think about how he'd failed to just keep the man there with him. He just needed to stop thinking about it.

Except he couldn't. It was on his mind the whole way to the treehouse.

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The roar of the engine and the wind and the waves became white noise and he focused on the thrumming between his legs. The raw power of it. God, it was sexy. He hadn't been on a bike since he'd gone out with Maureen.

One hand spread wide against Greg's chest so he could pull himself just a little tighter. Too bad there wasn't any gas. They could do this every day as far as Jack was concerned.

"Isn't it great?" House yelled over the noise. "Fucking fantastic!"

"Yeah!" he hollered, legs squeezing the seat.

When they were far enough out that House was pretty sure that no one would be anywhere around, he pulled to a stop by a sand dune. He took a deep breath as the bike hummed and was finally silent, then looked over his shoulder at Jack, his eyes bright.

Jack pulled off the helmet and handed it back, forcing himself to smile again. "That was fantastic," he said as he eased off the back.

House put the helmet back on the handlebars and ruffled a hand through his own wind-blown hair, mussing it up even more. "I always wanted one back home, don't know what I was waiting for... it's not like I can't drive it."

"Yeah," he nodded, taking another step back, ostensibly looking around for where they should sit and eat. Greg had to have picked the most deserted part of the island. The water here was too volitile for swimming and the beach was nicer to the south. As far as he knew, no one came here on purpose.

"So...lunch?" he offered, feet shifting in the sand.

"Yeah, okay." House's face was actually relaxed into a smile as he swung his good leg over the bike and hopped to the side so he could grab his cane.

Jack stayed close, but not too close. House had to know by now that if he needed an arm, Jack wouldn't think twice about giving him one, but he wasn't going to treat him like he needed it.

"You have a good morning?" he asked, trying not to come off as distracted.

"Well," House said, "yeah, I guess so. I went down to the compound for a while, drank nearly a pot of coffee by myself and did some reading, uh..." He hesitated. "Took a shot of the belladonna, felt better after that. Then came back and pampered my bike for a while."

"Cool," he replied, not really hearing the specifics. "That's good...how about here out of the sun?"

"Okay." House put his hand on Jack's lower back.

This sort of good mood was a rare thing for him.

The touch made him jump, and there was no way to hide it. He just...hadn't seen it coming.

"Jack?" House turned his head. "What is it?" He didn't connect to the jump to the touch - he was looking out at the beach, wondering if something had startled him.

"Hmm? Nothing," he said dismissively, stepping aside and turning, looking at the ground. "I have fried clams, but their cold now. And some bread and stuff. It's not much," he continued just to distract Greg as he got on his knees and started to unpack the bag.

"I'm sure it's great. Sorry I didn't get any wine, couldn't find what's-his-name and there wasn't any in the kitchen."

House put the keys to the motorcycle in his pocket and lowered himself onto the ground, sitting cross-legged.

"That's okay. I brought a bottle of water just in case," he shrugged, eyes fixed on the contents of the bag. Clams, bread, butter, oysters, mussels, a few scallops that smelled strongly of garlic, water, a papaya, some coconut oil, and in the bottom was a towel.

The stuff got Jack's full, undivided attention...far more than it deserved.

"It smells good," said House. "... garlic."

It just figured that he'd been in a rare good mood and Jack would be... not. Assuming that Jack was still upset about their small fight the day before, House didn't say anything, just hoped it would blow over.

"Thanks," he replied, looking up with a shy smile. He knew he was being a jackass...he was waiting for House to call him on it. "I'm not the best cook," he shrugged. "But Abby likes my coffee."

"The coffee in there usually tastes like ass," said House. "Cameron might have been a pain in mine, but at least she made good coffee."

"Some guy asked me if it was some kind of acid," Jack smirked. "I just made it the way I like," he added, passing House the bowl of scallops. "You want to start with these?"

Please, please don't notice. Just...let it go.

"Sure." House popped one into his mouth. "Hey, thanks for... you know. Suggesting this. It's good to get away."

"Yeah," he agreed, almost sighing the word. "Been thinking about it for a while."

The getting away, not the date thing...not that Greg needed to know.

"It's almost romantic, hmmm? Not that I'm such a great judge of that sort of thing. My idea of romance was an extra pizza topping."

"You do okay. When you want to," Jack replied, taking a couple clams for himself. They were cold, but still crunchy, so that was good. "We could make pizza, I think."

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