(( OOC: So, for some reason, this uploaded with really poor quality and I’m not sure how to fix it… but… by popular demand, here’s some terrible singing… some cheesy acting, some mediocre British accents, and some goofy cosplay.
I need you to know that I sat here for a long-ass time trying to make this angsty just to spite you :P But alas, this prompt is too adorable and I admit defeat.
18. The one where whenever you get a song stuck in your head, it’s because your soulmate is singing it.
I can feel your halo,
Jack rolls onto his stomach and shoves his face down into
the pillow with a groan as the music fades away. Maybe it’s finally over and he
can get some sleep.
Remember those walls I
built? Well baby they’re tumbling down.
mutters. Blearily, he lifts his head and checks the clock. “Ridiculous.” He
rolls off the bed, his feet landing with a dull thud, and trudges over to the
bathroom where he can hear the shower running.
The door’s unlocked of course, and really Jack should just
say something, but he’s tired and keyed up all at once and his body is sore from
their last game, so he’s feeling grumpy enough to yank the shower curtain back
and snap, “Kenny! Stop singing, I’m trying
“Jesus!” Kent jumps and smacks his elbow on the tiles. “Ow,
what the fuck Zimms? I—wait, shit. I wasn’t.”
Jack lets go of the curtain and scrubs at his face. It’s too
early in the morning for this. “Quit fucking around, Kenny. I’m tired.”
“Jack, I’m not,” Kent
insists, clearly exasperated—and serious, because he never uses Jack’s real
name unless it’s important. “I thought that was you.”
Shit. “You—you hear it too?” Jack asks, eyes going wide. The
song is still buzzing faintly in the back of his brain, its insistent rhythm
battering against Jack’s concentration.
“Uh, duh. Fuck. What the fuck?”
Kent shuts off the shower and shakes his head like a dog, splattering water
all over Jack’s face, because he’s an asshole. He’s supposed to be Jack’s asshole. So why has this stupid ‘halo,
halo’ song been playing on repeat for the past half hour?
Kent steps out of the shower and snags a towel to dry off
his hair better, ignoring the way he’s dripping water all over the floor that
seeps into Jack’s socks. Jack sighs and peels them off, dropping them in the
corner with Kent’s clothes. He closes his eyes and tries to take a deep breath
to combat the anxiety flaring in the base of his gut.
“What—what’s happening?” he whispers, grabbing at Kent’s
hand wildly, willing the touch to stabilize him.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Kent soothes, running his thumb over the
bones of Jack’s wrist and stepping closer, tilting his face up to look Jack in
the eye. He almost seems calm, but his voice is quivering just a little and
Jack realizes Kent is scared too. It’s not something he thinks about often,
that Kent can be afraid. “We’re—we’ll figure it out, okay? I’ve got an idea.”
Jack nods and swallows thickly.
Kent squeezes Jack’s hand and says, “Go sit in the other
room okay? I wanna try something.”
“Um, okay.” Jack dutifully wanders back into the bedroom and
sits down on his bed, staring at his hands and wishing they’d stop shaking. Suddenly,
the halo, halo song stutters and fades to be replaced with—oh, of course.
I got my hands up,
they’re playing my song—
“I hear you!” Jack shouts, scrambling off the bed and
bolting into the bathroom. “I can—I still hear you.”
He’s grinning and so is Kent, once Jack skids into the room and
gathers him up in a crushing hug, the momentum carrying them against the wall. Kent
laughs and presses his forehead hard into Jack’s shoulder. Now that Kent’s not
singing anymore, the other song fades back in as persistent as ever—though at
this point it’s kind of grown on him.
“So,” Kent muffles into Jack’s shoulder, “we’re still
Jack drops Kent back to the ground and pulls him back in by
the hips. “Yeah.”
“But—there’s some third person out there…who we can hear
too?” Kent quirks his lips to the side in thought.
Jack hums and says, “Seems like it. What should we do?”
Kent shrugs, wrapping his arms around Jack’s neck and
tugging him down into a quick kiss. “Dunno,” he says, “guess we just wait until
we find him.”
Five years later
Jack stomps back into the Haus with a pinched expression. He
had to pull his headphones out halfway through his run because his soulmate was
in the mood for Beyoncé—again—and trying to listen to his own music with
something else prattling in the background has always been torturous. In fact,
he’s starting to feel a headache coming on just from the strain.
So it hasn’t been the best morning, but it smells like
Bittle is baking in the kitchen again which is nice. Jack hadn’t gotten along
with Bittle terribly well the first few months, but the frog has definitely
grown on him—which might’ve had something to do with Kent telling him to ‘stop
being such a fucking dick, Zimms.’ But, anyway. The point is that it’s been
good, having Bittle around more.
Jack wanders into the kitchen to say hello, and finds Bittle
bopping around to something on his iPod and—
Baby I can see your
halo, you know you’re my saving grace.
Jack freezes and narrowly avoids crashing into the kitchen
table, bracing his hands bodily against the edge. His heart pounds, breath
hitching in sudden realization—is Bittle?—he must be—but maybe it’s just—
Jack forces himself to take a deep breath. There’s only one
way to find out.
“Georgia, Georgia, the whole day through,” Jack sings
softly, nearly humming the words under his breath. Bittle’s entire body jerks
and then stills. “And just a sweet old song keeps Georgia on my mind.”
Bittle turns slowly, brown eyes wide and shining with
disbelief, a hand up to his mouth. “Jack?” he whispers, the name rich and warm
on his tongue.
Jack’s entire body shivers. Slowly, watching with a detached
awe as his hands shake, he reaches for his phone and dials.
Kent answers on the second ring. “Zimms—I heard—did you—?”
Jack smiles shyly and Bittle gives a little wave. “Yeah,
Kenny. I found him.”