thirstforvice | Ripper Street/Escape to the Suburbs

When Drake is cleared to go back to work, Jackson's sense of unease grows tenfold. He's been anxious ever since returning to their room in Whitechapel, very aware that the Vigilance Men are down but not out, and very aware of where they live. But there's always been the two of them, together, with multiple locked doors between them and the outside world. Now, he's alone, mobility still hugely limited by his broken leg, and Drake's alone on the streets where he can't keep him close.

The worries would have driven him to distraction, or drugs, if not for Mrs Ramsay.

Their landlady truly was a godsend, more than happy to care for her invalid tenant, completely unphased in the knowledge of what he and Drake got up to behind closed doors. She was gifted at tending to his healing injuries, and she was very happy to both prattle on to him and listen in turn. She doesn't judge him nor take offence, either, when he admits to feeling unsafe in her lodgings. Quite the contrary, she offers to find him and Drake some place safer. Whilst he doesn't like being left alone, he appreciates the offer too much to turn her down.

It only takes her a few days before she finds somewhere she thinks would be perfect. As she lays out supper for her favourite doctor and his sergeant, she tells him all about the house in the suburbs. It's close to one of those new underground rail stations, she tells him, making the journey into the city easy despite the distance. It's large but affordable, on a combined wage of a sergeant and police physician. The neighbourhood is respectable, and safe. And, she can't help but slipping in, plenty of spare space for a housekeeper, should they choose to take one (which, really, she feels they should. Did they even know how to cook their meals?).

Her enthusiasm is really highly infectious.

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"I've been in pain for weeks, darlin'," Jackson shakes it off, reaching up to pull Drake down next to him.

"But that was the best medicine of them all."

Drake carefully kneads at the shredded muscle of Homer's thigh, the way this whole thing started out, and lies down beside him.

"Can I fetch you something for it?"

"Nothin' you'd let me take," Jackson points out, throwing an arm around Drake's shoulders and giving his cheek a tired, sloppy kiss. A bottle of laudanum would top off the perfect evening, but he is stronger than that. He can suffer the pain to keep his promises.

Drake tilts his head to kiss Homer's lips.

"I was thinking of fetching a hot compress," he said. "I know you wouldn't take...the other."

Jackson is happy in his embrace with his lover, warm and sated and mostly comfortable. The thought of Drake leaving him, even if only for a moment, is not an appealing one.

But a hot compress does sound close to heavenly, and his leg does pain him still. With a final kiss, he lets Drake go.

"That would be... welcome."

Drake kisses his lover, a brief parting gesture, before cleaning himself up and dressing in his casuals.

He ventures downstairs to see if Mrs Ramsay's coals are still hot enough for a compress. He is met with a gimlet-eyed stare.

"Well, no wonder his leg is hurting!" she scolded. "You shouldn't be indulging yourself with him in that condition. Run along with you - I will fetch the doctor his medicine without your fussing."

Drake returns to their room, scarlet and mortified.

Jackson has not made an attempt to move in the time Drake's been away, still lying as naked as the day he was born, sprawled out across their bed.

"What's gotten into you?" He asks as he sees the colour his lover has turned, quirking an amused eyebrow.

Drake just shakes his head, increasingly beetroot, and finds a blanket to protect his lover's modesty.

He is closely followed by Mrs Ramsay and her knowing looks.

Jackson is glad for the blanket as Mrs Ramsay appears, unannounced, self-consciously smoothing the material over his lap to make sure nothing's on show that shouldn't be.

"There now," Mrs Ramsay prattles on as she brings him the compress, pressing it into his hands. "Use that for your leg, dearie, it'll help the ache. And you tell your sergeant when he's hurting, you're such a delicate little thing."

She leaves the doctor every bit as red as his lover.

Drake regains a little of his composure as she shuts the door.

"How's my delicate little thing now?"

"You can shut the hell up," Jackson grumbles, still blushing from ear to ear as he warms his aching leg.

"Nothin' delicate about me."

Drake brushes his calloused knuckles across Homer's fine cheekbone.

"Finest Yankee china."

"Bull in a china shop," Jackson corrects, quickly moving his head to catch Drake's finger between his teeth. He nips playfully at the digit before letting it free.

Drake laughs openly.

"As you say," he says, a mocking tease in his voice. "Should I fetch my bull some tea to go with his compress?"

Jackson glares, considering refusing the offer for a moment to prove his point, but he wants the tea too much to be stubborn.

"If you'd be so kind, darlin'."

The embers of their fire are just hot enough for tea and Drake makes a strong pot.

He sets it down before awkwardly clearing his throat. "If we are moving to this new house, we had better learn to be better neighbours."

"We're wonderful neighbours," Jackson looks honestly confused as he reaches up and pulls Drake back down into bed with him.

"A doctor and a police sergeant, can't get much more wholesome than that."

Drake's cheeks are scarlet again.

"They might think we've moved in a brothel," he mumbled.

"It's a whole house of our own, Benny," Jackson points out, getting comfortable against the pillows with one arm around his lover and the other hand cradling his cup.

"No adjoining walls. No one to listen in. Even I ain't so loud as to cast suspicion on us from that distance."

Drake looks at him doubtfully.

"You scream loud enough to wake the dead, Homer."

"Well, then, who's fault is that?" Jackson grins, raising an eyebrow.

"I just can't help myself 'round you, Ben."

And Drake remembers all too well his own words during their embrace.

"Maybe I should be a little less encouraging."

"'nd a little less irresistible too, if you want me to hush," Jackson refuses to give in so easy. He'd rather another broken leg over having to be quiet in his love making.

"Oh, give over," Drake says, embarrassed again. Homer can compliment him as much as he likes - he'll never think he's much to look at it, and definitely nothing exciting in the bedroom.

"I don't scream for just anyone," Jackson insists. In his eyes, Drake is beautiful, brave and strong. No matter what the Sergeant may think of himself.

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thegentlemanthug - 2013-12-28 23:26 (UTC) - Expand