Ripper Street/They tried to make me go to rehab...

[thirstforvice]

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?"

Comments

[thirstforvice]

Soothed further by the kiss, Jackson feels himself slipping into sleep, catching himself at the last minute and jerking himself awake.

"Help me out?" he asks. "Before I fall asleep and drown in your tub."

[thegentlemanthug]

"Can't be having that," Drake says, using the supporting arm to help lever Jackson out of the tub.

"Should wrap you up while the maids fetch us fresh linens."

[thirstforvice]

Jackson looks down at himself, belatedly realising his nakedness, shivering in the cold air.

"Maybe an idea..."

[thegentlemanthug]

Drake moves away from Jackson to pick up his coarse towel and hand it to his lover.

He then fetches a dressing gown from the drawer, an old battered thing but warm and well-darned.

[thirstforvice]

Jackson dries himself off quickly, before wrapping the gown around him to keep in some of the warmth of the water. Moving back to the chair, he sits down before his weakened legs give up on him.

"You have my deepest graditudes, Bennet," he says once he's comfortable in his seat. "I'm sure I have been horrendous to be with over the past few days."

[thegentlemanthug]

Drake removes his own soiled clothes and dips a wash-cloth in the cooling water of the bath.

"I've had worse bedfellows," Drake says with a grin. "In Her Majesty's military hospitals."

[thirstforvice]

"They make you share beds?" Jackson asks, incredulous. He is used to a far finer way of living.

"But you have your own private surgeon, now. No more of that."

[thegentlemanthug]

Drake snorts. "Sharing blankets on the sand," he says, more honestly.

He shifts into fresh clothes and rings the bell for the maid.

"I have no intention of sharing you."

[thirstforvice]

"I promise not to go anywhere," Jackson proclaims, head dropping against the back of the chair. He has no intention of going back to Miss Susan, not now.

[thegentlemanthug]

The maid enters and swiftly removes the trays, remaking the bed without commenting on the state of the sheets. He thinks he will soon come to greatly value the discretion of Mrs Ramsay's house.

When they are alone again once more, Drake proffers his hand to Jackson. "Good sir."

[thirstforvice]

Laughing, Jackson lets Drake take his hand, stumbling back up onto unsteady feet.

"Are you taking me back to your bed, Sergeant?"

[thegentlemanthug]

Drake feels a blush creeping up his neck and spilling onto his cheek.

"For rest. And sleeping, Captain."

[thirstforvice]

"That all?" Jackson asks, moving over to the bed and lying down on the fresh, clean sheets.

"No goodnight kiss?" He pouts over-dramatically.

[thegentlemanthug]

Drake sits in the chair beside the bed.

Now that they're both well, it seems far too small for two grown men to share chastely.

"Maybe," he says.

[thirstforvice]

Naked except for the dressing gown, Jackson scoots over to the wall, giving Drake as much space as he can.

"Come, lie down. We must take our rest where we can, Reid will have us back at work soon enough."

[thegentlemanthug]

"We won't fit," Drake protests. "I'll...rumple you."

[thirstforvice]

"I can cope with rumpled, darlin'," Jackson promises, opening his arms out to Drake.

"C'mon. I don't bite unless you ask me to."

[thegentlemanthug]

Drake feels his cheeks burn but he moves where he's bid.

"You're meant to be resting," he grumbles.

[thirstforvice]

"I'm in bed," Jackson points out, ironically far more awake now that he's laid back down on the sheets.

"I'm not working for your man Reid. How much more restin' can a man do?"

[thegentlemanthug]

"He's not my man," Drake says, trying to make himself as small as possible.

"And you could be sleepin'."

[thirstforvice]

"'m not tired," Jackson complains, knowing his argument falls short after coming close to dozing in the bathtub.

[thegentlemanthug]

Drake tentatively reaches out a hand to rest on Jackson's shoulder.

"Your eyes give you the lie."

[thirstforvice]

Pulling Drake in close with a grin, Jackson lets his eyes close when he has the other man firm in his arms.

"Tell me who's man you really are, and I'll sleep and leave you in peace."

[thegentlemanthug]

Drake allows himself to be enveloped in Jackson's arms, resisting for a further moment before relaxing into the embrace. He sinks his face into Homer's shoulder, inhaling the scent of the man beneath his old dressing gown.

"Yours," he confesses quietly.

[thirstforvice]

"Correct answer," Jackson smiles, fingers sliding into Drake's hair and tugging him close for a kiss.