Request: Fic request: Literally anything with Jet Star because there isn't enough fics of him :)
Warnings: the usual load of blood, injuries, pain, violence etc., as always with DD
Word count: 3 805
Slowly you tilted your head a little, ignoring the pain that shot down the muscle strands from your neck into your back. You really had pulled your neck badly. But now your focus was less on the pain you were in as much as it was on the brown haired Killjoy in front of you. The orange light of the evening that streamed into the dirty diner through the dusty windows, made every single one of his curly hairs glow warmly, and his lashes were almost shining. You blinked slowly, and wondered if you had ever felt so fondly for anyone as you felt for Jet. He was always kind and patient with you, and more than once you had fallen asleep to the mental images of curling into his side at night.
Your daydreaming was rudely interrupted by the painful sting on your leg, as Jet started stitching you up.
"Hold still," he pressed out between his teeth, when you flinched involuntarily.
"Sorry," you mumbled, and did your best not to move again.
You had made it pretty unharmed through the fight this time, no lacerations like usually, not until the very last Drac had managed to shoot you in the calf. It was not bad, not like some other injuries Jet had successfully dealt with, but painful. And of course you had been, once again, the only one who had gotten injured.
For a while you tried to get back to that peaceful place in your mind where you were so focused on watching Jet treat your wound that you did not notice anything else around you, but this time the pain was too present. Sighing, you leant your head back into your neck, so you did not have to see the blood that ran down Jet's fingers, your blood. Your shoulder was aching from the pulled muscle, and slowly you tried to roll it, hoping to sooth it a little.
"Your shoulder alright?"
Jet's voice had lost the sharp edge it had had when he had told you to hold still, and instead was back to the warm, caring sound you were used to hear from him.
"Just pulled a muscle," you shrugged, regretting the motion immediately. Lifting your head back to look at Jet, you found that he had finished stitching you up, but your foot was still propped to his knee, where he was kneeling on the floor.
"You should keep it warm," he told you, looking up to you a hunch of concern written across his features, "Wrap a scarf around it, or a jacket."
You nodded, signalling you had heard and understood him, and carefully he rolled the now ripped open and bloody trouser down your leg again.
"Thanks," you mumbled and got up, carefully putting weight on the injured leg. It hurt and the stiches were pulling, but other than a little limp you would be fine to walk around.
Jet got up too, his eyes not leaving you, as he watched you hopple away. Sometimes he wondered if you even cared about how much he cared. Sure, he cared for everyone, would die for every single one, he loved all of his friends, but you were special. He did not see you as a friend, no matter how hard he tried. His heart beat far too fast every time he merely thought of you, he was more scared for your life than his own when the group got into a battle with the Dracs, and when you were not around, or when he was trying to fall asleep, his heart ached for your presence.
Biting his lip, he watched as you limped out of the door, into the evening sun. He knew you would climb to the roof top of the diner, even with that injured leg. You always climbed on the roof when you wanted some peace, and somehow he felt like he had said or done something that made you want to be alone now. Maybe he should not have been so harsh when you had flinched earlier. But he would almost have hurt you even more; he had been concerned. Slowly he shook his head. He had just treated you like he would have treated the others too. You had never given him any reason to believe you might want to be treated differently. And he could not always blame every second of you not being entirely happy on him. He did not take credit for your happy moments either. Even though he wished he could play at least a small part in you being more relaxed and happy out here, in this dystopian desert.
Outside you had managed to crawl up the ladder that was leaning against the wall, and found your favourite spot on the roof. For some reason the metal here was slightly bent, making a small hollow for you to lay in. Crossing your arms under your head, you lay on your back, and looked up at the sky.
Why did you feel so rejected just because Jet had told you to hold still? He had just helped you, probably more than he would have had too. You remembered he had told you to keep your shoulder warm, but you had brought nothing to wrap around it. For now the metal roof was still warm enough to provide some comfort for your aching muscles.
Your thoughts were focused on nothing in particular for a while, you just watched the clear sky above. Without the radiation of the sun poisoning the desert, it was almost beautiful. In the distance a few stray clouds were glowing pink and orange with the last beams of sunlight, while above you the sky grew darker and darker, from baby blue to azure, navy and then almost completely black. And in front of the dark abys of nothingness, a billion stars spread out, blinking and shining, big and small, bright and fading, in constellations you had once known, or on their own, untouched by the catastrophes of this earth, eternally beautiful.
You only perked up, when you heard steps outside of the diner in the sand, and a few moments later someone climbed up the ladder to the roof. When a familiar mop of brown curls came into vison, you laid your head back down on your arms; even in the dark you would always recognise jet. You expected him to tell you to go inside, that it was cold, or that you needed to sleep. For a moment you hoped that ignoring him would make him leave you alone, so you could continue looking at the stars above you, and think about how much less awful a world would be in which he would feel the same for you as you felt for him. But instead of speaking up, he climbed onto the roof, and walked over to you, sitting down right by your side.
You could feel him looking at you, his knees pulled to his chest, his arms wrapped around them, as his eyes were scanning you carefully.
"You're not keeping your shoulder warm," he realised, but his voice was soft and quiet, no reproach, "sit up."
Glancing over at him, you found he was taking of his black leather jacket, and hesitantly you followed his instruction, pushing yourself up to sit.
Quickly, as if he was almost embarrassed about it, he wrapped the jacket around your shoulders, before turning away. Did he fear your reaction? The jacket was warm and smelled of him, like a warm hug around your back. The material was rigid, the leather had not been cared for in years, and the fabric that once had been sewn into it had ripped out, leaving the jacket rough against the bare skin of your arms. You had not really noticed, but it had grown cold out here, under the sky, the heat of the day escaping into the vastness of space, and the desert yet again surprised with its ability for change; in some nights the ground even froze over.
Carefully you stole a glance at Jet. He was still sitting with his legs pulled up, his head turned away from you. Against the stars-filled sky his silhouette painted clearly into the night. Under the jacket he had only been wearing a black t-shirt, one which was so washed out that the print of a skull that had once been well visible on the chest, was now faded. With such little light you could not even see it.
While your mind had been peaceful earlier, sitting in the night, Jet's presence once again caused your thoughts to tumble around. It probably was a Killjoy's worst fate possible, other than the Drac mask, to fall in love out here. You all were destined to die, earlier or later. Being in love was painful enough, but losing the person you loved... the pain would probably kill you. So you always looked out for Jet, always tried to keep him safe, always wanted to make sure he was out of harm's way. And that was why you had gotten shot today; had you not been so busy shooting the Drac that had aimed for Jet, you would have been able to deal with the one that aimed for you. Your priority was clear, and that was Jet's life, not your own.
As if he had heard your thoughts, Jet suddenly spoke up.
"You need to be more careful out there," you mumbled. His voice sounded tiny and lost in the huge desert, as if the wildness and the night just swallowed every sound right up.
"I know," you answered just as quietly, tightening the black jacket around your shoulders.
"You're usually not so careless," Jet finally turned to you. Why was he even so bothered? You were alive, right?
"I got distracted," you explained, and suppressed the shrug that usually would have followed such a statement.
He just hummed in response. You turned your head away, looking back out over the desert that spread endlessly into the distance. But from the corner of your eyes you saw Jet was still watching you. For a few moments you were sitting in silence, before he spoke up again.
"I mean it, I need you to be more careful," his voice was more urgent now, and even though his voice was like a magnet, pulling you too look at him, you resisted, and started out into the night, "you hear me? You can't get shot again."
A hand landed on your arm, a gesture of concern that finally made you look at him. In the dark it was hard to say which emotions exactly his eyes were holding, but from what you saw he looked very serious. It was important to him that you agreed, you understood.
"Sure I can," you smiled jokingly, "always got you to patch me up."
You had intended to make a joke, to make his mood lighten up, but that this went completely wrong was evident in his reaction.
"And what if you die?"
His voice was louder now, not from anger, but clouded with something that almost sounded like panic in your ears. The hand he had still resting on your arm grabbed you tightly, as if you would disappear if he did not hold you. His outburst confused you, and for a split second you almost allowed yourself to think that maybe he did care.
"What difference would it make," you asked and looked away, well aware how negative this sounded. You did not want to die, did not plan on dying, but sometimes you really wondered if your addition to the group was worth the food, the water, the effort they had with you.
"It would make all the difference," Jet's voice was still loud, but the panic was gone, instead he sounded choked up, "It would make all the fucking difference in the world, okay? To me it would."
The last words were more mumbled than properly spoken. Slowly you turned back to look at him, finding he was staring out into the desert like you had just done.
In the light of the stars you could see how upset he looked, his brows furrowed, his nose scrunched up, jaw tightened.
"I'll be more careful," you finally whispered, and for a moment you though he had not heard you, but then he nodded quickly, "but promise me something in return?"
Jet looked back over to you, his expression immediately softening when he saw you sitting by his side, wrapped in his jacket.
"What?"
"You be more careful out there too, okay," you asked, and sighed. Might as well tell him, you thought, the heartbreak of a rejection could be hardly any worse than the one you were in without him knowing. "I didn't pay attention because I was busy with taking out the Drac that was out to ghost you." Even in the dark you could see him raise his eyebrows. "Would have shot you, so... be more careful yourself too, alright?"
"I- I-," Jet stuttered around for a moment, opening and closing his mouth before he had finally sorted out his thoughts, "I was taking care of the Drac that aimed for your head."
For a long moment you looked at him, finding nothing but honesty in his eyes.
"Oh," you eventually managed, and looked away again. He had not seen the Drac you had shot because he had been busy making sure you were not killed. And here you had been thinking he did not care. "Thanks, I guess."
Jet just nodded; a gesture you once again only spied from the corner of your eyes. It took you a while until you finally found the courage to speak up again. You did not know what the conversation, which you just had had, meant, especially not what it meant to Jet, and at this point it felt too awkward to ask. You realised that you had chickened out once again, from telling him how you really felt. He had to assume you had just looked after your friend, the way he had done with you.
"I'm getting tired," you eventually announced, and slowly got up from the roof.
Jet jumped up as well, and nodded.
"Yeah, it's cold here," he agreed, and suddenly you felt guilty for having not given back his jacket.
"Here," quickly you pulled it off your shoulders, and handed it back to him, "Sorry for keeping it for so long."
"Don't worry," he shrugged, and threw the jacket off the roof, before climbing down the ladder.
When you followed, you knew he was standing close next to you, worried you might fall with your injured leg not being able to support all your weight. Indeed the wound still hurt, but you were able to handle yourself.
Side by side you walked back into the diner, and on the way Jet picked up the jacket he had thrown into the sand. Inside the diner it was dark, the lack of lights signalling you that your friends had already gone to sleep. You could not help but feel like there was an awkwardness between Jet and you that had not been there before, as if the conversation on the roof had triggered something, but both of you were too scared to talk about it. It almost felt like Jet was feeling the exactly same for you, as you felt for him, but both of you were too shy, too afraid of a rejection, to mention it.
You could feel the tension building over the last two meters over to the door to your bed room, and for a second you actually considered to just kiss him right here on the stop, just so the weird feeling between the two of you would go away. Your thought was crossed by Jet's voice.
"Good night," he said, his voice sounding normal and not at all as emotionally strained as it had mere minutes ago. So the tension you had felt had just been in your mind. Thank Destroyer you had not acted on that stupid, little-
"Good night," you mumbled back, "see you tomorrow."
Quickly you pressed down the handle of your door and slipped into the tiny room. In the dark you could almost see nothing, but you knew your room well enough, even without light. To the right stood your bed under a tiny window, and in the narrow wardrobe next to the door was just enough space for a couple of old shirts and trousers, plus your weapons and masks. Pressing your back against the door you took a deep breath. How ridiculous to even think for a second Jet might return your feelings for him, how idiotic to play around with the idea to actually kiss him.
Outside in the corridor you heard a door open and close. Jet had probably retreated to his room too. Pressing your lips together you tried to hold back the tearless sob that worked its way up your throat; it just came out as a tiny whimper. How could you be so bloody stupid? Reaching into your hair, you gave it a short tuck before letting go again.
What use was it to work yourself up over the fantasy of a feeling someone might have for you? None, it only took away precious moments of sleep. Pushing away from the door, you took the few steps to your bed, when suddenly there was a bang on your room door.
Alarmed you spun around, and walked back, opening the door just enough to glance outside. The moment he noticed you had come to the door, Jet pushed it open further, walking inside your room, closing the distance between you with a single step. You were too surprised, having him storm your dark room like that, to do anything but stand there, and before your mind had even started to process what was happening, he had placed his hands on your waist and leant in for a kiss, hot and fast and passionate, leaving no room for any thoughts in your mind but him.
You had still not completely caught up with what happened, just enough to gently place a hand on his bare arm, when he pulled away suddenly. He was breathing hard, his hair dishevelled, and you found yourself wishing it had been your doing, though you had a feeling it was the result of him running his hands through it before knocking on your door. It seemed like maybe he had thought about going into his room but decided against it, and pulled the door closed again, which was what you had heard earlier. His cheeks were flushed bright red now, so much even that you could make it out in the lack of light, and his lips were pink, so perfectly pink that you could not take your eyes away from them.
You knew he was waiting for a reaction, any kind of rejection, something that told him to stay away, to leave you alone, but you would be damned if you gave him that. So when you finally tore your eyes away from his lips, and glanced up at his eyes, you were not surprised to find them filled to the brim with the same kind of violently suppressed love that also hammered in your chest.
It just took the faintest movement of your head, the slightest reaching up to him, searching for his contact again, and Jet crashed his lips back into yours, not willing to hold back any longer, and you sure as hell did not want him to either. Walking you backwards a few steps, he pressed you against your wardrobe, keeping your trapped between his body and the cold wood. His hands were grabbing tightly into the shirt that covered your waist, surely leaving marks, but you did not care. You just wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in closer, pulling his body against yours. Heat radiated through his clothes, a warmth and comfort only another human being was able to provide, and he stood so close against you that the metal buckle of his belt pressed into your belly almost painfully. But you did not complain, you would never complain about him being too close, he could never be close enough.
Your hands were still weaving through his hair long after the kiss was broken. He held you trapped against the wardrobe, this forehead leant against yours, his nose brushing over your cheek, and his hands still softly grabbing at your waist. You were both out of breath, with blood hammering in your ears and under your cheeks, and you did not even care to be embarrassed about the tiny whines he sometimes drew from you when his touch was just too sweet, or his lips brushed against yours.
Eventually he pulled away, hesitant, as if every fibre of his body ached to stay closer to you. You stayed with your back against the wardrobe, not sure what would follow after this. You had never believed a kiss could be this passionate, so filled with love, and yet here you were. Would he just leave, pretend like it had not happened?
Luckily your thoughts were interrupted by Jet gently taking your hand in his. Following him like a little puppy, you allowed him to guide you to your bed where he signalled you to lay down. Quickly you scooted aside, making room in the narrow bed for him to lie down next to you, which he did. Both of you lying on the side, facing each other, you studied his face. He looked tired, but excited, and... happy.
"Know now why I want you to be careful," he asked, his voice husky and deep.
Biting your lips you reached your hand into his hair, which was a lot more dishevelled than when he had stormed into your room. His curls easily fell around your fingers, soft and warm.
Instead of answering, you scooted a little closer, and pressed your lips against his again. The urgency and heatedness form earlier had molten away, and only left the pure love and adoration you felt for the man. Your heart was still hammering in your chest, but the safety Jet provided started to calm you down. He wrapped an arm around your middle, pulling your against him, while his lips softly moved against yours, warm and full of unspoken words of love. Maybe these words would never be spoken out here, in the desert. Maybe it would always be too dangerous to share these feelings out loud, but right here, right now, no words were needed to make you understand doubtlessly just how much you loved each other.