Capt. Homer Jackson (
thirstforvice) wrote2013-02-18 09:48 pm
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Entry tags:
Ripper Street/They tried to make me go to rehab...
Jackson loses track of time as he lies on Drake's small bed, the Sergeant safe and warm and alive in his arms, the both of them dozing in and out of sleep. It must be days later, that they're both sufficiently awake at the same time to hold a conversation.
And, as always, Jackson doesn't hang about.
"I need you to do something for me, Bennet. And, no matter what I do, or say, you have to promise me you will do what I tell you now. Even if I change my mind in the future. Can you do that?"
And, as always, Jackson doesn't hang about.
"I need you to do something for me, Bennet. And, no matter what I do, or say, you have to promise me you will do what I tell you now. Even if I change my mind in the future. Can you do that?"
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"Just tired."
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But he never gets to finish that thought, as the maids bring in the tub and a tray of fresh-cooked bacon and eggs with thick trenchers of bread.
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"I'm starving," he admits with a laugh.
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"Then we shall eat."
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Once he's sure Jackson's eating, Drake takes his own plate and takes a grateful bite of bacon.
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"I'm sorry."
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"How are you feeling?"
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"But food and a bath will put that to rights, I'm sure."
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"Not even a little. I swear it."
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"You don't owe me any promises, Homer," Drake says gently. "I just want you...to be 'appy."
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"I'm here."
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"And I want you to stay 'ere. If that's what you want."
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"If you'd have me. You're a kinder room mate than Susan's ever been."
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"She ain't coming near you."
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"She likes to have me under foot."
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Finishing up his own breakfast, he crosses to the door and makes sure it's bolted. He doesn't want them to be disturbed.
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Drake waits for Jackson to strip, averting his eyes before holding out a hand to help him into the bath.
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"Don't let me drown."
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"I've got you."
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"I'm sorry..."
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"Don't say you're sorry. I'll get my turn."
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