[Recollé] Telenovela Ep1: Tony y Jack

[flyguy]

It couldn't be said Tony had ever been Jack's biggest fan. No, not the fondest of the guy. Downright animosity came to mind as a good descriptor. But he'd made...not nice, he was bad at nice, but he'd kept the more choice words in his mind and his hands in his pockets instead of arranged into fists planted in Jack's smug face.

All for Sofia's sake. Every last bit of it. She loved the guy. What more could he do for a friend who'd gotten him through some of his darker times than be supportive? If his feelings for her strayed a little deeper all the more reason to shut up and stick it out for her.

That wasn't Sofia at his door now though. Jack wasn't looking too hot and something about that put Tony on edge. He didn't move aside to let the other man in. "Looking for something? Hooters is right around the corner. They've got a great brunch line up."

Hi Jack. Nice to see you. Or not.

Comments

[hjack69]

They'd never played nice, but they'd played for Sofia's sake, and it's basically the only reason Jack's even here right now - because she'd want Tony to know exactly how it happened, not have him wonder for the rest of his life, and Jack... definitely owes her that much. He owes her so much more, but this is all he can do right now.

He doesn't have their little girl with him, and when Tony opens the door, Jack's eyes - well, the one that isn't nearly swollen shut - are squarely down.

And he's quiet. It's probably the worst indicator of all.

"I'm sorry." Jesus, his voice is wrecked. He leans heavily in the doorway - should still be in the hospital, honestly, but the thin sympathy when they told him about her mixed with the smell of antiseptic had driven him half-insane - and says it again, half-mumbling. "It's Soph. I'm sorry."

It doesn't make sense, but he doubts it even has to.

If these details aren't okay lmk o7

[flyguy]

In Tony's mind he envisions grabbing Jack by the throat, fingers tightening illegally as he drags the other man close and hisses, "What. Did. You. Do."

He doesn't do that.

Neither does he shove Jack aside and start running down the street yelling Sofia's name like a madman as part of him so desperately wants to. Yeah. What Jack says doesn't have to make sense. The facts are all right there in the context of the dirty details. Jack at his door. Alone. Half dead. Doesn't take a genius to figure out and he should know. Graduated summa cum laude. Twice. He doesn't need it written in crayon to spell out the situation here to him.

Other men, greater or lesser take your pick, might have broken down in tears. Tony doesn't do the tears thing. He doesn't weep or wail or raise his voice. He just goes...human. The fight goes out of him leaving him all too weak, expression lost like up turned into down and down turned into red, where the hell are you looking Alice because there's goddamn traffic laws to obey in this rabbit hole.

He's cold all over and it doesn't feel like anything will ever be right again. Eyes flick up and he gestures for Jack to step in, moving aside. "Get in here, my neighbors are... Look, the old lady across the hall gets a thrill out of making noise disturbance calls."

So obviously Jack should stop making a scene and sit on Tony's sofa. His apartment isn't luxurious by any means, but it's clean and it's tidy. Respectable. Small, but you don't get a place in the city limits proper and not pay for it in footage. He indicates the sofa again and goes to the non-functioning fireplace himself, a remnant of the original house before it was sectioned off into apartments. I have watched entirely too much HGTV. Anywho— he rests his arm on the mantle, still internally coming to grips even if outwardly he probably looks like he's taking this remarkably well.

"Where is she? Tell me you didn't leave her there for them to contact her harpy of a sister as next of kin." Sofia and Kate never had gotten along. Sofia was a visionary, eyes on the untapped beauty of this world. Kate is... "Gold digger" is a compliment when it comes to Kate. Tony's hand on the mantle curls into a fist. "TELL ME YOU AT LEAST DID ONE THING RIGHT BY HER."

NO I LOVE IT you know how I love fleshing stuff out on the fly

[hjack69]

Tony's better than him, and Jack knows it. Smarter, no doubt, and more sensible too, and so he shuffles in and drops himself on the couch as directed, hand sneaking under his jacket to cradle a broken rib or two. (Or three. He doesn't really remember what all is wrong with him now, but the entire right side of his chest is pounding to the point of making him nauseous.) The temperature in this apartment feels like it's gone subzero and wrapping his arms around himself isn't helping, head hung low.

"No, Jesus." What, are you freakin' kidding me? Soph would roll in her grave so hard she'd do the Back To The Future thing and come beat my ass is what comes to him first, because making jokes has always been easier than feeling things, but his shit sense of humor can't help him now. Just makes him feel like retching. "I took her to her grandparents. They won't let that bitch anywhere near her."

Or him, now. Because he's a piece of shit. He's scum. He never deserved either of them. They've told him all of it before, and they told him again just earlier, when her dad hit him so hard he practically blacked out. Now he just sounds hollow - like Tony, like it isn't bothering him all that much that she's fucking gone and she's never coming back.

"She didn't--" Quiet. "Didn't feel - anything. Fuck. Fuck."

His voice cracks hard on anything, and then he's burying his face in his arms and grips at his hair until he feels it tearing out.

LMAO makes an entire family for a dead woman, she's got more background than Tony

[flyguy]

Jack isn't going to be getting any sympathy. But he has to know that. He came to the wrong house if he's looking for anything outside of condemnation. Tony himself is struggling. Didn't feel anything? What about all the things she wanted to do. Gone. Worthless. Unfulfilled. Be a mother to her child, take that fancy Swiss vacation she'd joked about, gotten a dog, paid her latest speeding ticket— It's just a long list of nothing Tony and Jack are left holding in her absence. And Tony is feeling it sharply enough to be crumbling to pieces on the inside.

His usual go-to for coping is distractions. Jokes. Work. Focusing on the "fix" and ignoring the cause. That's what he does. It's how he functions. As such the knowledge Sofia is with her grandparents at least is...sedating? Not calming. There's no "peace of mind". But he can mentally step back enough to take a breath and look at the ceiling.

It's best he doesn't look at Jack right now.

"I'm never going to forgive you. You know that." Statement of fact. Business and to the point. Jack isn't just on his shit list for life. Jack is his shit list. Forever. "What was it? Drunk driver? Picking up your laundry and she crossed the road? Deranged derelict at the grocery store with a knife?"

[hjack69]

"It was supposed to be me." It's condemning, an admission of guilt. The first time he's admitted to being guilty of anything around Tony... well, pretty much ever. "Should've been me."

Because it's always been him destined to bite it sooner than later, they all knew that - the things he did, the people he knew, the mouth he had, it's pretty much always been an inevitability that Jack Dawes is going to get himself killed, and it's probably going to hurt. But it's always supposed to have been him first. Sofia would grieve - she'd be the only one - but she'd raise their daughter and probably end up finding some guy like Tony, if not actually Tony, who would take care of her like he never could. She'd be happy, and she'd remember him, and that was more than he deserved anyway.

This is all wrong. Somebody went and fucked up the script, and now both he and Tony are scrambling to fit it back together.

"We were getting in the car. Some guy - I don't know who he was, never saw him before - got close enough to pull a gun on us and started shooting. Hit me in the shoulder. I hit the gas, but she was already..."

Maybe if the guy had been less of a bad fucking shot, they would've made it out alright. He doesn't outline the rest right now because it seems unnecessary - that he crashed the car and woke up in the hospital, how he walked the entire way back and found the guy and squeezed down on his throat until his eyes popped, and how tempted he is to just keep going.

But Sofia wouldn't want that, and so he's here instead, spilling his soul on the couch of a man who hates him.

"I quit the club. I quit all of it. Nobody's coming after the baby. She doesn't even have my last name."

[flyguy]

"So that's it? You just go straight now?" Finally Tony turns from the mantle to look at Jack. He's mad. He doesn't know what's killing him more— that the bullet was meant for Jack or that Jack thinks he can just walk away and it'll work out. That's not life. You can't just do the thing you should have done months ago to fix the worst case consequence after the fact. "Can you even hold down a job outside of fry cook? What happens when it gets tough and you don't have enough money for groceries for the week? Do you just go crawling back to your so-called 'friends'?"

Jack's in this shit. And so is, apparently, everyone connected to him. Tony takes a few steps towards the sofa. Jack needs to fix this, but he can't. There's no way to ever take this back. Uncharacteristically Tony's foot slams into his coffee table, knocking it over in a loud clatter. His finger jabs the air violently to accentuate his next words. "If you don't make some real changes the exact same thing that happened to Sofia is going to happen to your daughter!"

He pauses, struggling to keep his breath even and not quite succeeding. This... His hand runs over his mouth, gaze glancing away. Damn it. Damn it damn it damn it. "If you let that happen—"

He looks back. "—If you let anything happen to that little girl I'll kill you myself. No warnings. No third chances."

[hjack69]

It's easier to be angry than it is to grieve, and Jack isn't a good person. He knows he's not. It isn't right for him to react when he knows Tony's hurting just as bad as he is, when he knows that he should be sympathetic, but familiar resentment prickles at the back of his mind anyway. His scar falls right over the corner of one eye, screwing with the tear duct, so he only has to wipe the left one with the back of his sleeve when he lifts his head.

He's trying to be good, he really is, but his daughter is a dangerous enough topic on his best days, and now the mention of her has his fist tightening in the material of Tony's sofa.

"I'm not letting anything happen to my daughter." My daughter. His voice stays low. "Her grandparents want full custody. I'm giving it to them. She doesn't--"

A pause. Never even finished high school (Sofia, what do you see in him?) so it isn't always easy for him to express himself, but now he fights to find the right words.

"She needs a real home. I want her to have a life."

And it's going to kill him, because he adores his daughter, and there's a very real chance that they're never going to let him see her again - no more scrounging up just a little extra money for that toy she wants, no more princess and darling and sweetheart and baby, and no more genuinely delighted bear hugs when he walks in the door. But it's in her best interest, he knows. Thinks.

"So cut the death threat shit."

[flyguy]

Tony's hand curls into a fist by his side. Yeah. He guesses it really is just that 'easy' in Jack's book. What, was there some expectation of understanding here? He's not so charitable he wants to even consider Jack's perspective. "The moment you drop the martyr look, pumpkin."

Turning around he goes to the coat stand he has shoved in a corner with umbrellas, newspapers, all that miscellaneous crap that just seems to forever collect by doors. Being around Jack right now isn't...smart. He doesn't know what the hell he wants out of the guy, but with their history he can 100% say it's not forthcoming. So the hand that jerks his beat up windbreaker off its hook is maybe a mite pissy. If there's a tremor running through it and he drops the keys he shoves in his pocket once or twice it's not a detail up for discussion.

"You can use the bedroom. I find any of my stuff on Craigslist later and you get to scoop Mr. Nutter's litter. I haven't cleaned it in a week."

He opens the door. Enjoy yourself Jack...? He'll be back. Or. Something. If Jack's even still around when he is.

[hjack69]

Normally, Jack wouldn't be caught dead there by the time Tony is back - he's slept in cars his whole life, and even when Sofia gave him a couch (and later, her bed) to sleep in, he always preferred to sleep in his car when he was away on jobs. But his Trans Am is a heap of twisted metal and he doesn't want to look at it again anyway, and he's so tired, so tired. So he stays, and he sleeps in that bed like a scared kid, curled up around himself and hiding his face in his sleeves.

He doesn't plan on it being long enough for Tony to come back, but he's hurting and exhausted, so he'll still be there.

So much manpain in this tag jfc but here you go

[flyguy]

He's not as long as might be expected. He's never been good at it. Sadness. You know. Emotions. Get in touch with your inner child, express yourself, it's okay to be you. All that touchy feely crap. Sure, he can write about it in a book. But no one's seeing his novels get snapped up by publishers and maybe that's for a reason.

Because he knows when mom's been drinking it's not the time to bring up how that makes you feel.

It's a trip down the stairs —who's got time to wait for the old service elevator in this out of time building— and soon enough he's on the streets. It's spring, but he still feels cold, rubbing his hands together and blowing on them. Probably looks like his pot smoking neighbors. Well, whatever. All that matters is the Indian place down the block takes cash and doesn't ask, "hey customer, what's with the long face".

When he gets back he's a little calmer, a little more controlled. A glimpse of Jack through the open bedroom door has him genuinely surprised, but he doesn't say anything. No snarky comments, witty repartees. There's just the soft scrape of wood as he rights the coffee table and drops the bag with its syrofoam container down. From there it's a short jaunt into the combination kitchen/dining room with his own 2 for $5 special. He's not going to wake Jack. It's not like he's hankering for an heart-to-heart over a shared love.

Who speaking of just so happens to be staring at him. Not really, that'd be crazy. But like any guy trying to do the kitschy bachelor thing he's got polaroids of friends and family pinned on the fridge with those free magnets businesses love to give out. Right there under Jeffery's Fast Lubes is a picture from his first graduation. Parents notably absent as per usual, but Sofia with an arm around his stooped neck and smiling with all the pride in the world.

"...You said there was something beautiful in him. I'm still not seeing it, Smalls." Yeah, he's just going to sit and eat his Paneer like the B love interest he is. When he hears (or sees, whichever comes first) Jack though he'll at least call out, "There's chicken vindaloo."

It might be cold by this point, but Jack's at least got to know how to work a damn microwave. Hopefully.

you know my weakness for dramaz so here's more

[hjack69]

When he wakes up, Jack does what he always does when he's in a bed - he reaches back with a slurred babe, because it's daytime and their precocious three-year-old is going to start wandering around the house soon, probably get into the cereal while she's at it. They have a house, Jack's done that much, even if it's small and kind of crappy and they don't have a lot of cash. They have food, even if it's that generic shit like Froot Circles and Hamburger Assistant. (They do okay. They both deserve more, but Soph is always telling him we're happy.) The TV is small but they get cartoons, and their sofa is kind of springy, but all three of them have found comfortable spots of their own. Soph'll make him bacon and potatoes because she knows it's probably all he'll eat today, and Jack gets ready for work, promising to eat on the drive over so she doesn't chew him out for not taking care of himself.

Yeah, it's kind of crappy at the edges, and it's not as fun as when they could just speed off and go party, but he likes it. They're happy, and if they're happy, he's happy too.

But the bed is cold and the room isn't his, and when he remembers, he just kind of tries to will himself dead for about twenty minutes. That's what lovebirds are supposed to do, right? Is it actually a thing?

It's not actually a thing, or at least it isn't for him, because he ends up getting around and looking for his boots. It's uncharacteristically thoughtful for him to take them off before getting in the bed (not that he even pulled the covers down), and he's glad to get them back on before he slips into the main room, picks up the aforementioned container, and uses the plastic fork to shovel it down mindlessly.

Two or three forkfuls in and he promptly drops it back on the counter and throws up in Tony's sink. Sorry about that, friend-o.

[flyguy]

...Christ, this is going to be a thing, isn't it. Tony unhelpfully watches. It's not like he's never seen Jack as a mess before. Stumbling drunk, partied a little too hard, you name it he's probably got a memory he's been trying hard to forget. Sort of comes with the territory when you're the dependable best friend of the wife.

This isn't that though and it's dawning on him he needs to make a choice. He can let the guy just walk out of here, get out of his life just as messily as he got in it, and grieve in peace. What's the betting Jack'll be dead inside of a week? Overdose, bar fight, some stupid stunt for revenge,

Is that how he's going to repay Sofia for everything she's done for him? Let her husband be just another soon-to-be stiff on the side of the road? Lord knows he wants to. Sofia was too good for Jack. Too kind, too compassionate, too forgiving. He doesn't think Jack's ever properly appreciated that a day in his life. Understood just what Sofia walked away from to be with him.

"There's pepto under the sink." Just going to keep eating his own food. Jack wants to be a mess, Jack can be a mess. Tony's not sharing in this pow wow.

[hjack69]

It's not fun. Aside from what Tony's brought him, he's had nothing on his stomach for who the fuck even knows how long, and so it's mostly cold, unchewed Indian food and acid that comes up. Pepto - Jack hacks up a noise that might be a laugh and lets himself slide to the floor, his back against the cabinets.

"I killed the guy." He lets out a single low giggle, head falling back to thud against the cabinet door. "Thought I'd feel better."

He doesn't feel bad. Just another piece of shit thug like Jack that nobody was going to miss, nobody would probably even look for - no telling why he's spilling all of this to Tony, because it's not to make him feel better, but he spills nonetheless. What else are they going to talk about? Funeral arrangements? He's not exactly in any shape to leave unless Tony kicks him out, so until that generosity runs out, they're stuck with each other.

A beat. He shuts his eyes.

"Kinda do."

[flyguy]

Tony's quiet for a spell. It honestly hadn't occurred to him to go find the shooter and balance things. That Jack's telling him— that's fucked up. Makes him an accessory or...something. Aiding and abetting. It should freak him out. Jack's world is different from his. He's a normal person. There's no retaliation violence in his life. There's "I called the police like an upright citizen".

"Good." It's a calm verdict. In fact he's surprised just how calm it feels. No panic, no revulsion. He just feels...

Justified. That's the word he's looking for. Like Jack did the right thing. By every definition of the law what it was was wrong. But Jack did the right thing. Apparently they're bonding after all. Now that... That fact is truly revolting. Tony scrapes the sides of his container, shoves the dregs of what's left in his mouth and drops all the trash in the can under the table, the only place for it in this cramped kitchenette.

"Cops come calling you hide in the bathroom. I'm not explaining to your daughter where Daddy went." Alright? Alright. Standing up he looks down at Jack. Time to make that choice. But it was never really a choice to begin with, now was it. "Come on. Off my floor. You smell like blood and hospital spongebaths. Not your most marketable fragrance."

[hjack69]

"Glad you approve."

Tony may or may not catch the wink, and his smile is paper-thin, but he does manage a smile - yeah, dick move getting him involved in the first place, so Jack doesn't go into the gory details no matter how much he might (does, definitely does) want to. He's already pushing his luck - he doesn't need to draw any extra ire by talking about how great it feels to feel someone die under your hands.

Off the floor, and he groans, reaching up to grab at the edge of the counter. Hauling himself up is a process, and it's not a particularly nice one - adrenaline and overwhelming emotion had let him shut it out before, but he's empty now, and the pain fills the space. His shoulder hurts. His right chest is exploding with pain that gets worse when he breathes. He's vaguely aware of deep gouges in his forearms from the man's fingernails. None of it really matters, though, so it's all just one... big ache.

So unless Tony snatches him up, Jack's going to take a good half-minute to get on his feet because wow does getting shot suck, apparently.

[flyguy]

"Don't wink. Why would you wink?" Tony spreads his arms and looks behind him as if searching for support. His drab apartment stares back unconsolingly. "Now it's awkward. You made it awkward. Come on. You're like my own...personal...hemorrhoid."

But that is Tony reaching down and grabbing Jack's forearm at least, helping drag him up. What a guy. He never said he was good at this taking care of people business. Especially guys he would gladly see get hit by a bus. But it's a thing. It's a thing that's going on between them. And if there's any God up there Jack's not going to start verbalizing about it.

Especially because now he smells like vomit on top of everything else. "Shower. And those clothes... Same clothes? Because if so we're burning them. Neighbors have some good stuff. We can make a party of it."

Yeah. This is definitely accomplice charges and jail time. God damn it.

[hjack69]

This is not happening and they are not getting along and one of them is definitely going to have to say something to fuck it all up later, but for now, Jack's too sedate to do it himself. Not in the least because Tony pulling him up has him yelping like a kicked dog, although to his credit, he remains standing. He still keeps his jacket tugged tight around himself like it's going to help somehow, even though it honestly just adds pressure to the wounds.

"Jacket stays," he coughs up, managing to pry himself away from it - it's the jacket, his one and only, some leather affair that's seen years of dust and dirt and who the hell even knows what else, and it makes him look bigger than he actually is. Without it, Jack's broad shoulders don't do him much good when the rest of him is wiry from hard work, lean from too little food. The patches that proudly showed his MC and rank are gone now, torn from the jacket by brute force. There's no better way to show that he's done.

Jacket stays, bullet hole and bloodstain included, but everything else can go. Jack takes a moment to yank his shirt up on the right side and scowl at the massive stretch of tortoiseshell bruising across his ribs. Definitely broke a few somethings.

But there's something else on his mind, and he doesn't start towards the bathroom just yet, letting his shirt drop.

"If you want me gone, I'm gone."

[flyguy]

Tony's gaze slides over those bruises before he drops Jack's arm. Tapping his thigh he licks his lips and looks away. Yeah? He just says get out and Jack'll be gone? Is that how this goes in Jack's mind?

"...You remember that speech I gave at your wedding? Some cutesy little thing about Sofia and me meeting at a movie theater and her making me walk her home from school every day?" Reaching above the fridge he grabs a dusty first aid kit, yanking it out from beneath a stack of phonebooks. A gray tabby meows indignantly and hops down, bouncing off Jack's shoulder before landing on the counter. "We didn't. She caught me trying to jump off a bridge."

And suddenly it maybe makes a lot of sense why Tony's always been around. And just what Jack's taken from him. "So shut your piehole and get in the damn shower, Dawes."

[hjack69]

The wedding - it hurts just a moment after, but for a second he sinks into happy memories. It wasn't some extravagant thing, but she'd talked about getting married before either of them were taking it seriously, just teasing back and forth, and had talked about her dream wedding. The ceremony, the priest, the reception, the cake. Getting to hurl flowers at people (she left this out when discussing the wedding with her parents). Fuck if Jack hadn't broken his back and called in all the favors he had to make it happen, whether her parents liked it or not. Tony had given his adorable little meet-cute speech and everyone had laughed and made nice, and Sofia had had to scold Jack for sulking over how much they liked Tony.

But Tony's presence makes a hell of a lot more sense now, and Jack starts to think that maybe he... well, wasn't wrong to prickle at Tony's presence, but maybe should've asked more questions. Gotten to know him. She'd had to save both their dumb asses at some point, so maybe they had more in common than Jack thought.

"Yeah, alright." No argument. Jack carefully pries the shirt off, loses the boots, and nonchalantly tears off the bandaging over his shoulder. Broke his clavicle, apparently, and son, if it had gone any lower, it would've hit your heart. (Insert unsympathetic doctor gaze and quiet judgment from the nurses.) But it's clean and it's not going to kill him, so it'll just be another interesting scar to add to his collection. It'll match the ones on his back nicely. "You need to do any doctoring, or should I just soap the crap out of this thing?"

He's dumb, Tony, just bear with him.

[flyguy]

A stare. He's an author not a— And then it clicks and he throws his hands up. In fact there is a distinct moment of him graphically strangling air. Jack left before he was discharged and received home care instructions. Of course he did.

"Sit on the couch. Right now. I have to make a call."

And that's how fifteen minutes later Jack's wound is cleaned and dressed in fresh bandages and Tony is wrapping up a conversation on the handheld smooshed between his ear and his shoulder. "So we just put a trash bag over it. Unhunh. Got it. Thanks Yvonne. Couldn't put my pants on without ya."

Hanging up he looks at Jack. There is no way this arrangement is going to last a week. Hell they'll probably kill each other within the space of a few days. "You better not be looking at me expecting a spongebath."

Stating for the record here.

[hjack69]

He's actually a gigantic weenie as Tony cleans and dresses the wound - ow ow dammit shit fuck ow et al, mumbling complaints and telling Tony his bedside manner sucks. Wherever she is, Sofia is probably tickled shitless at seeing the both of them sort of begrudgingly getting along with each other.

The faux-strangling makes Jack bark a laugh that turns into a wheeze, but probably not for the reasons Tony expects. (Or maybe he does. No telling what Tony thinks he did to kill the guy.)

But when Tony's off the phone, Jack's got himself propped into a vaguely comfortable position on the couch, mismatched eyes following him lazily.

"If you're gonna kill me, don't do trash bags. What you wanna do is feed me to dogs. Pigs are better, but I dunno if anybody around here has enough pigs."

[flyguy]

"Where do you think we are? Urban Minnesota?" It can't be said Tony's first aid is professional. In fact it's pretty sloppy, but he's a stickler for the details so Jack won't be dying of gangrene if nothing else. Rolling up the leftover bandages he plays a little tetris fitting them back into the kit even as his eyes roll. Jack's doing this on purpose. Trying to get a rise. Get...whatever the hell Jack gets out of being Jack. He taps the neomycin tube against his palm in a fast staccato, still cleaning up; he's always been the obnoxiously fidgety type. "I'd use lye. $10 and I'm sure there's a Sunday Savers coupon. So now you want to talk about me killing you?"

Jack needs to make up his mind in this crazy...whatever they're having. Tony swears he can almost hear Sofia's teasing, "so you can be nice after all, Anthony boy". Always had to push his buttons like that. Always. Shoving the rest of everything in back in the first aid kit he looks at Jack. Really looks for probably the first time since he showed up at the door. It's pretty clear Jack's not dealing well. Sitting all comfy on his couch? Tony would have bet nuclear winter would happen first before either of them would allow the atmosphere between them to ever be this...chummy.

Almost makes him want to vomit. Yep.

Jokes aside though, Tony can't say he's doing much better. Just hides it better. And isn't that a kick. There's doubtless some quaint Aesop here about turning around and using what Sofia taught him for someone else, but he doesn't want to think about it. "Wanna talk about it?"

'It' being whatever Jack wants. Tony's not exactly the best listener, but it's kind of hard to ignore a guy commandeering on his couch.

did you miss the tl;dr because shady's back

[hjack69]

"Apparently a metric assload of people want me dead lately." Jack shifts into an angle that favors his intact shoulder, trying to take pressure off his ribs - he doesn't really care about the pain, learned to deal with pain a long time ago, but it makes it harder to breathe. For whatever reason, he kind of still wants to keep breathing, even if it's labored.

Well, kind of. He's still in shock, so once that wears off, that's probably going to change. The offer gets a scoff that hurts him, though, curling up on himself, wheezing his breaths until they even out a little.

"Jesus, what are you? My fucking therapist?" His voice is low, but rising as he stands, raking a hand through his hair so hard he pulls strands. It's dirty, tangled. He's got dirt under his nails and across his exposed skin, and he's bloody from those scratches, and if there is any bandaging on them, he's tearing it off. Tony's not the best listener and Jack isn't the best with feeling things - Sofia's known that since she met him. He never attacked her, but he'd attacked others, fell into fits of violent rage that only she could stop, and maybe Tony's seen her do that. Now she's not here, and he knows he can't afford to lose control here, because she'd be so angry with him if she knew he'd done that to Anthony.

That doesn't mean he can't pace around the coffee table and across the apartment, still shirtless, clenching and unclenching hands like he's not quite sure what to do with them.

"It should've been me," he rumbles, but his voice doesn't stay low for long, gradually turning more and more desperate. "She didn't deserve to go, she - she was so beautiful, and so kind, and she could've found another husband. Somebody her folks would just be tickled fucking shitless to have. They'd love him. They'd do Thanksgiving and Christmas and Easter and nobody would miss me but her and the baby, but that'd be okay." A cough. "She should never have married me. She deserved better."

You is the implication here, because isn't that how it's supposed to work? You marry the bff with the steady job, you buy a house, you get a dog, that's how it is. Not for her though, because she married some loser and now she's dead.

"I can't go back to the house."

Jfc he didn't ask for the Christmas Special Jack. No I'm kidding laughs

[flyguy]

If this were a movie it'd be the part where Tony would be rolling his eyes and loudly proclaiming any clown gets to write a script. Not so funny when it's his life. And the love interest just happened to be a close friend.

"Unhunh. As your unpaid therapist —I'll be billing you later, by the way— yeah, you are a total piece of shit. You didn't desrve her," He intones in his clipped voice, always educated and sounding like he has a prick reply for everything (well, not everything, but the range is close). He isn't going to mince words with Jack. The guy is scum; a guilt complex doesn't change that. Snapping the first aid kit shut he sets it aside and stares at nothing for a beat.

You know you're hitting Care Bear territory when you consider the moment too low to absolutely destroy a guy. Or maybe it's just that he doesn't want to get into it. Other people lash out. Tony just self-destructs. A drink, a cardiac arrest and a cute EMT is about all he wants right now. But that's not happening with Jack. Not starting this sober anyway. So: "—But she liked trash. People she could fix. People who didn't play by the rules. If you think for one second I didn't tell her to leave you an hundred times over you do more coke than I thought."

His hands lock together and he lets them hang loosely in a knot, elbows resting on his knees. "She wanted to be there with you. Every day." It'd be touching if there wasn't some kind of "fuck you" insinuated in the way he said it.

[hjack69]

"I dropped the coke after the baby was born," Jack nearly snaps, suddenly defensive. His shoulders rise, hand flattening on Tony's counter just for something to grab onto. Like he's admitting something guilty. "I don't even smoke."

Which is in no way enough to make up for all the complete garbage he is, or anywhere near enough to impress someone who's seen enough of his bad sides as Tony has, but it's his daughter, and he won't let anybody think he didn't love her enough to be - not a good man, but better than before, if only by a little. Again, in an almost unconscious little tic, he rakes his fingers through his hair.

"You know I almost killed a guy for her - I mean, not the guy I actually killed today, but some other guy. Trucker slapped her ass in a diner and I brained him with a coffee mug. This was before we were dating, by the way, and I thought, well shit, fucked that up, now she's scared, but she wasn't. Even when I kept losing my fucking mind whenever somebody crossed us. Some creep followed her out of a bar and I kicked the shit out of him for trying to touch her - some chick told her she was a trashy biker bitch and I threw her down a flight of stairs. When we found the house, the neighbor told her he and the neighborhood watch were concerned about 'people like us' moving in, and if we didn't behave ourselves, there'd be trouble. It made her cry. I killed his dog and left it on his porch."

A pause. He doesn't know why he's saying this - is it supposed to help?

"Y'know, I think she liked it. That I was crazy." Is it supposed to be reassuring Tony on why she picked Jack over him? "She didn't want me to get violent with anybody, but she liked that I would - knew I'd do anything for her."

So maybe Tony didn't lose by virtue of not being good enough - maybe Jack was just sick in a kind of heartwarming way.