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[onefellswoop]

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[onefellswoop]

[ Something’s off. Something off (something’s missing) here and with this man, and Desmond’s too focused on the puzzle of it to notice the shift in music, the departure of his Puppy from the stage. So it takes a moment to register what Benny’s indicating. So Desmond’s caught between trying, trying to discern who this man was in another world - receiving for this effort a sharpening pain and an absence of answer - and recalling where he is, what in fuck’s name Benny means by ‘the entertainment.’

He understands the meaning, and coils toward snapping that this man has no right to call Jack any such thing.

Almost immediately, his tension disperses, replaced by warmth and certainty: Finally, finally he can be with his mate.

Desmond needs no further impetus. Yes, yes, he’s curious about this barman, but there will be time for questions. For deciding what to make of this Benny: What he remembers, what he knows about Jack. How little he meets Desmond’s eyes, and the tumult flickering at the mention of his was-rival, as well as his silence on Reynolds. How he seems a beat out of step with this world Regina’s chosen, and—

Yes. How he speaks of ‘your Jack’ as if of a transformed being. (And didn’t those words trill pleasantly through Desmond? Doesn’t he glow with the thought that he’s brought something positive to Jack’s existence, just as Jack has done for him? There’s nothing he wants more than Puppy’s happiness.)

Notable as well: How Benny speaks of Jack with casual familiarity and without disdain. This man has been, Desmond thinks, at least some small manner of support to Jack’s existence here. Prone to nattering he may be, but Desmond can’t feel particularly ill toward a man who managed to bring something other than misery into his Puppy’s life.

He taps his finger against the glass, takes another drink and speaks by way of parting— ]

You’d do well to contact them, you know. At the least, you’d have our thanks for sparing us playing audience to their agonies.

[ He doesn’t specify which ‘they’ he means. He suspects he doesn’t need to. And now he acts swiftly. Sets down the glass beside a pair of twenties. Turns his focus to the indicated door, and moves toward it. Gives a soft, staccato pair of knocks before inching the door open and slipping into the room.

Clearing his throat, speaking in a tone faux-aloof, as if oh dear, he’s terribly concerned that he may have interrupted something and of course he doesn’t wish to trouble anyone this room might hold— ]

I’m told somebody here wishes to see me?

[ The feigned aloofness, this brief game, doesn’t last long; as soon as he sets eyes on Jack - as soon as he sees that yes, yes, he’s found his Puppy, here and waiting for Daddy! - his smile goes warmed and giddy, lip caught between his teeth.

Gods, any amount of time away from Jack is harrowing.

Gods, but his love is beautiful, shines in body and soul alike.

Instantly, Desmond’s forgotten any discomfort this bar and it’s odd publican brought him. Instantly, there’s nothing in this bar and nothing in existence beyond himself and the man half-bared before him.

He lets his head cant. Spares himself a moment - perhaps two or three - to take in the sight of Puppy.

Then moves, one hand extended, an invitation to and way of asking for a kiss, just there upon his hand, please! (This will, of course, almost certainly be followed by a shift of his hand to cup his love’s cheek, then a kiss claimed to Puppy’s lips; ah, he won’t be satisfied with one kiss.)

As he moves, he speaks, voice now brimming with pride in his love, with joy at his sight— ]

There’s my Puppy. My skillful, my beautiful wolf.

I’ve missed you so. Forgive my intrusion, won’t you?

[honeystuff]

[ Jack is barefoot and shirtless when the door cracks open; he has a moment when memory overwhelms him and he's turning to face the door, but it's this door, and it's the cabin door, and it's Desmond's front door, and it's somewhere else, somewhen else, and he's taller, stronger, his pants are soft leather or linen, maybe. He remembers because he was alone and it was a moment before he wasn't alone, someone's approaching and he feels a hitch of joy in his chest so pure it's painful.

He was in the tower.

He was young, barefoot and shirtless and eager just like this, and he was in the tower.

There's Desmond. There's Desmond, just as it was Desmond at the cabin, it was Desmond at the house, and it was and wasn't Desmond returning to him in the tower.

Before the pain takes him, he slips beneath memory to that place of knowing, keeping ahead of the curse like touching a live wire and letting it go before the shock. (But before it could. Before the memory slipped away, he saw, didn't he? A door cracked open and the light caught on golden scales.) (It's the first time he knows for certain what was taken from them. What he was to the creature in the castle.)

It takes another moment for him to return to the present, only to find Desmond is close - a lapse, just a small lapse in awareness on Jack's part, Jack gone distant and sorting through his memories, it's been happening and Desmond knows he can't help it.

It doesn't keep him from kissing his mate's hand, then once, and again, on the lips. Once more on his cheek, and he's here again, grounded in the present - where Desmond just saw him peeling his clothes off for a semi-rowdy crowd of women.

Ah, well. ]

What intrusion? I don't think there's anything to forgive.

[ Lazily, he loops his arms around Desmond's waist and cants his head inquisitively, his smile full of mischief and pleasure.

Nothing outside the dressing room door can compete with this man, he thinks. (And isn't he lucky they found one another again? That no matter the barrier, it can't keep them apart?

It's nice to have faith in something. Finally.) ]

What'd you think? Did I live up to the hype, or did Benny keep you distracted the whole time?

[ A faint look of amusement passes his features. ]

I hope not, because you can't be at my shows anymore. Or - [ Immediately, he relents. ] Not if I know you're there, anyway; you almost caused a situation for me.

[onefellswoop]

[ He sees the stammer and the distance. Puppy’s seen something. Puppy knows something. And though Desmond feels a tug of worry, though he hurries even swifter to reach Jack’s side, still he schools himself to breathe even, to not give in to fretting.

It happens, this shivering of memory. His mate knows how to bear through it and how to duck away (his mate has an aegis within; an artifact not lost, only nested precisely where it belongs) (this, this at least is a relief to know and trust to), and if need be, Desmond will draw him back, speak soothing until Jack’s present slips back into place.

It doesn’t come to that. In an instant, Puppy’s back with him, wrapping an embrace around him, and time loses itself in a rush of welcome and kisses. Where Desmond caresses Jack’s cheek, then draws a bracing hand to the back of his neck. Where a kiss to his cheek is met with a kiss to Puppy’s own, and a twining closer to his love, wrapping as near as he can.

It’s something wondrous, something unforeseen, the way he feels so perfectly at ease, so right with Puppy’s arm around his waist, Puppy’s kiss upon his brow. It’s nothing he could have anticipated before that first encounter: How natural it is to melt into this man’s touch. How much he thrills, feels alight in Jack’s presence, when prior to this man, Desmond can recall only ever shying from contact. When he can recall taking joy in no other’s nearness.

He lifts onto the toes of his undamaged foot, the better to set a kiss to Puppy’s cheekbone, laughing soft delight. Then offering a slivered smile, a glint of teeth as he run his finger downward from Puppy’s sternum, admiring, savoring each brush of skin.

Yes, he understands the meaning in Jack’s words. The almost-situation he may have caused.

He can’t bring himself to regret the near-precarity, nor does he think Jack would wish it. ]

Is that an invitation?

To let myself in unannounced, while my Love burns bright upon the stage, and melt into the shadows.

To watch, unsuspected. The only signal of my presence a shiver of suspicion through your spine; who can say for what cause? Who can say if it’s Daddy you see, or only a shift beyond the lights’ glare?

My Puppy performs, my Puppy dances such vicious grace, and I drink in his sight. Reveling in witness as my wolf toys with his prey.

[ His smile’s crept to a further show of appreciation, a further glint of teeth. And Desmond, eyes locked with Jack’s, snaps his teeth. ]

Would you like that, Puppy?

I’d like it very, very much.

[ A moment more to watch with sharp, with hungry eyes, and Desmond melts to laughter once again, gifts another kiss to Puppy’s lips. ]

You surpassed all reach of ‘hype,’ my Darling. You stole my breath; you stole my sight, my mind entirely.

I would have been lost, gazing helpless, had I not moved to the bar, hm?

I confess I didn’t see nearly as much as I would have liked. Your barman— This Benny—

[ There’s a pause in which he hovers, might nearly speak the questions drawn up by that man, but there’s no need to jar this moment. He gets to focus on Puppy right now; they’ll have time for discussing the rest. God knows this town isn’t going anywhere. ]

He has a way with ceaseless chatter.

In future, I’ll need to keep deeper in the shadows. Far from his reach and restless words, the better to enjoy my Puppy’s show.

But yes, Love: Rest assured, I relished what I saw. The man and wolf in you, enthralling all who dared to gaze upon you, claiming the world as your own.