For Jack -- Dated to December 22

[one__song]

Every time Roger went to the bathroom, he had to pass by his room. All of his shit still inhabited it, he discovered, and it looked like Hunter was still around. He felt a certain amount of guilt about that -- he should have said something to Hunter... but he wasn't living with Dean and Angua, he was just... staying there. Indefinitely. They

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[captainjack]

There was no doubt about it, ITF training in the snow was just as miserable as it had been during that freak heat wave. Jack was sweating from the furnace at his core but his hands and feet were ice cold. He left the towel next to the one already there and swaggered into the shower, intent on washing off the day and warming up the nearly painful digits.

"Hi, Roger," he said warmly, taking the time to rake an appreciative glance up and down the lean body. Thin and wiry and constantly changing. He never knew if when he saw Roger he'd be gaunt or robust (for Roger, anyhow) but he was always fucking stunning. And those tattoos...they just screamed 'look at me'.

"Been a while...where've you been?"

[one__song]

The tattoo across his back rippled as he turned his head, stars and skulls seemed to run together before being forced apart as his shoulderblades were.

"Harkness," Roger greeted lowly, just loud enough so he could be heard over the shower spray without turning his head. He ran a hand through his hair, slicking it back and away from his eyes. "Been staying with some friends." Sometimes months passed between encounters with Jack, but he always had a way of showing up right as Roger began to forget about him.

[captainjack]

"Ah. That would explain it," he nodded as he stood still and let the water soak through his skin, warming him up and cooling him off at the same time. "I was going to come looking for you a few weeks ago, but it turned out I got what I needed and couldn't stand any more," he continued. "Apparently my musical repertoire is...lacking. The jukebox finally coughed up what I needed."

[one__song]

The joke was there, and since it was Jack, Roger was sure he knew where that was going... and was extremely surprised to find he was wrong. So surprised, in fact, that he chuckled, low and rough when the conversation veered in a more PG direction. "Jukebox," Roger confirmed out loud, shooting Jack a sideways glance over his shoulder. "Right. Well, I've been laying low." Not as low as Mohinder and Brian, but low. Low enough that he was living with a couple. Again. Sure, Angua and Dean weren't a typical couple, and Gavin wasn't a typical dog, but he felt typical just staying there.