(Untitled)

[__jack]

[Later that morning.]It's the little things, right, like the way your shoe fits snuggly against his under the formica table, or how you realise this is already the second time you watch him order from a waitress, and how he gets with other people, friendly but almost a little reserved, always devoting all of his attention to the person he's

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[_johnny]

The table's wide but they both have long legs and Johnny finds that if he slouches just so, curves his spine and slides lower on the bench, he can brush and bump and rub knees with Jack. The obscenely self-satisfied grin on Jack's face makes Johnny's cock perk up and his belly flop; he grins back, because it's impossible not to.

The waitress puts their coffee down and Johnny says, "Thanks, sugar," flashes her a wink that makes her blush, makes Jack's eyes narrow in amusement.

"I know," Johnny says with a shrug and a smile. "I know, I'm a terrible flirt. Can't help it." He takes three packets of sugar and shakes them down, tears off their tops all at once and empties them into his cup. "I guess it's... I have a friend, old roommate actually, called it a symptom of my Southerness." He picks up three more packets and repeats the process before stirring and sipping. Perfect. Black as sin and just as sweet.

Under the table, Jack's knees trap one of Johnny's and squeeze.

[__jack]

Jack wraps both hands around his cup and rests the back of his head against the top of the seat, which he can do comfortably in the slight slouch he's in. Gives Johnny's knee another light nudge and smiles down his nose at him.

"Where is it that you're from, anyway? You have a peculiar accent, you know that? Like you're carrying around a bit of everywhere you've been."

[_johnny]

"I'm just a good ole boy," Johnny drawls, and Jack's laugh delights him. He grins, sinks a little lower in his seat, rubs the bony bit of the outside of his knee against the inside of Jack's. "Seriously, I grew up in Kentucky, but not, like, Derby country, not, um, mint julep and manicured lawns and sipping tea on the verahhhhhhhhhnda." He takes a thoughtful sip of his coffee, smiles back at Jack's encouraging nod and wonders briefly why it is that it's so easy to just spill to Jack.

"Actually, so, yeah. My Kentucky was more, um, soybeans and tobacco sheds and mud and blood and Schlitz. You know? Like the Dukes of Hazzard only not cleaned up for the network, where Cletus would've raped Daisy when she was fourteen and Bo would've gotten beat up for being too pretty."

He has to look away for a second because Jack's just gazing at him with this look of empathy and understanding. Johnny shrugs, lowers his head so his hair falls in his face. "So. Um. Yeah. I'm actually only half good ole boy, I'm half Cherokee, too, and when Kentucky

[__jack]

Jack nods, doesn't press it when the tilt of Johnny's head hides his face from him for a moment. Reaches out to bump a knuckle against Johnny's hand (sun-kissed and worn smooth), curbs the impulse to wrap his own around it.

It's hard to wrap his mind around Johnny's description of Kentucky; Jack's knowledge of America is limited to what the media, culture, and a good education has fed him through the years, which he's certain must be lacking in the finer details.

"Seeing the world then, eh? Haven't done much of that. Haven't even been to America."

He smiles kindly, keeps his voice low and the curl of his mouth just for the two of them when Johnny looks back up at him.

"Is your family still in Kentucky?"