unclejackworthing

[unclejackworthing]

He continues to watch Arthur closely as he unfastens the last button of his shirt, reading his body language and every expression that crosses his face. He still looks nervous (that isn't a surprise,) but he lifts his hips with a confidence, eager for Jack to continue undressing him.

Jack takes the opportunity without hesitation, slipping his pajamas off thin hips. His breath catches in his throat at the sight of him, from the soft blush on his cheeks trailing down his chest, to soft thighs brushing together as he squirms. He's frozen for just a moment, admiring, before more roughly tugging Arthur's pajamas further past his knees and casting them aside. 

He's on him again in an instant, one leg between Arthur's thighs, mouth on his. He kisses him hard, like he can't hold himself back. It's all too much for him to resist. A hand slips between them, coming to a rest against Arthur's inner thigh, thumb stroking over the soft skin there as he finally breaks the kiss. “Still alright, darling..?”

@unclejackworthing

It was Arthur's fault for getting too comfortable. Jack was in the kitchen trying to figure something out while Arthur waited in the living room. Jack was only a room away. He got too comfortable.

When the knock on the door came, he nearly jumped out of his skin. He was in no state to entertain company. He was wearing someone else's pajamas and covered in bruises after his last encounter. But when he he hesitated too long, he heard a voice through the door:

"You'll want to cooperate, of course. It's a matter of your health." Arthur looked through the window and made direct eye contact with a doctor. Another one was behind him, difficult to mistake when they were dressed almost identically in the same odd fashion sense common among Wellington Wells' medical community.

Arthur's heart sunk, but he put on the best smile he could and opened the door. He tried to keep his body mostly behind it. "Gentlemen! Lovely day for it! Now what's all this about a medical emergency?"

"Yes, well, you'll forgive the intrusion, but my colleague and I happened to be wandering along when caught your scent through the window. It's ajar."

Arthur looked at it again. Indeed it was. Why did every little thing have to go wrong? The doctor pushed past Arthur into the living room, then turned to face him, so Arthur had a doctor on both sides.

"And, when we'd sniffed you out, then we couldn't help but notice that peculiar pungency telltale of one off their Joy." The doctor smiled, his creepy little mustache curving up at the edges. "So of course we both agreed it was our medical duty to come remedy the situation."

"Oh, dear!" It wasn't difficult to look horrified. It was harder to to look like he had nothing to hide. "Silly me! Has it been that long since I've popped a Joy? I'll take one straight away. I'm so thankful to you for warning me, Doctor." Arthur kept turning between the doctors, unsure which one to face. "And, uh, Doctor. Jolly decent of you."

"Yes, we'll administer a dose presently." The doctor leaned close, peering at Arthur with one fish eye. The one behind Arthur--he was getting them mixed up now--took a noisy sniff of Arthur's neck. "Are you certain you don't need more extreme medical intervention, sir? You do seem to be rather beat up."

"Oh, not at all! That's why I'm at home in my pajamas, you see. Silly me, I tripped down the stairs and the doctor put me on strict bed rest until I've healed up."

If only smiling hard enough would make them believe him. His cheeks were starting to hurt. "I've been going crazy here at home instead of at work. I'm sure the Joy will help with that." Arthur tried to step out from between the duo. "I'll just step away and go take care of that right now. I shouldn't waste another minute."

The doctor behind Arthur grabbed his upper arm and wrenched him back in place. "You'll forgive us for wanting to take you back to the office just to be sure. It is a matter of your health, after all. You can't be too careful."

"Oh, pish-posh!" said Arthur desperately. "I'm as healthy as a horse. Just some light bruising."

"I think that's for a qualified medical professional to to decide, don't you think?" The doctor in front of Arthur produced a rather large syringe as the one behind him held Arthur's arms. "But first there is the matter of your Joy. I think you'll be much more agreeable once the proper dosage is applied.

The doctor came in close and tilted Arthur's head up to expose his neck. He ran a finger along the vein he chose and then stabbed the needle into Arthur's skin, fully compressing the plunger and emptying the pink liquid into Arthur's bloodstream.

"Shit," said Arthur. His legs had suddenly stopped working correctly. He collapsed into the doctor's arms. Too much Joy.

[unclejackworthing]

Arthur responds to the facts of the situation with panic; grasping at his throat like he can't breathe, hyperventilating, fight or flight taking hold. Then he tells Jack his ridiculous, self sacrificing, plan. He intends to throw himself directly into danger so that Jack won't be found out. Oh, he's cute.

Heroic and defiant, he attempts to push past Jack and give in to flight. He allows him to move past him, to free himself from his cornered position, but not to get much further. Before he's out of arms reach, Jack grabs his arm, hard.

“I think there's been a misunderstanding. You see, even if we aren't ever seen together… everyone knows you can't have just one downer. If you're found out, they'll start looking into everyone else here. We can't have that happening, now can we?” Coupled with the tight grip he has on Arthur's arm, it comes across almost threatening. But… he's made up his mind. He's not going to kill him. Not yet, at least.

“You're going to have to stick close to me. I'm afraid we're in it together now, dear.”

@unclejackworthing

When Arthur lost his job at the "O" Courant, he was hired on as a writer at the Wellington Wells Broadcast Corporation. Over the years, he ended up doing many things other than writing, but technically, his job was to come up with the fun, light topics Uncle Jack talked about. This segment was on the uses of a common flower in Wellington Wells, the Rose of Gilead.

Arthur was alone in the writers' room when he started working on it. He was often alone in the writers' room. Getting work done wasn't a strong suit for the people of Wellington Wells. It was one of the most quiet places in the studio and he often popped in there to get some ideas for upcoming shows written down.

That was the case with this Rose of Gilead show. Arthur usually had to do more research for these sort of segments, Arthur found that the words came easily. Soon he had written down a recipe for a medicinal balm that soothed minor wounds without even thinking.

Funny that he still remembered it. He'd never been much interested in flowers, but Percy had told him so many times he could never forget it. He would repeat it over and over again, any time he was thinking about it, and Arthur could hear every word of the instructions he'd written down in Percy's voice, clear as day. And with it came the memory of that same voice screaming out Arthur's name, over and over again, and Arthur became urgently aware that he needed to take his Joy.

But he didn't.

He still hadn't taken his Joy when one of his coworkers rushed in, demanding to know where he'd been. Arthur started some excuse about having his nose to the grindstone, and she interrupted him to say it didn't matter, didn't he know that filming was going to start any minute now? Uncle Jack would be furious if no one was operating the teleprompter, she said, and Arthur knew very well that that was his job, because Jack snapped when people took too long, and he wasn't going to put his colleagues like her through that, was he? Of course not.

She was so focused on her own ranting that she didn't seem to notice Arthur's haggard appearance. It was a good thing that no one would be looking at Arthur behind the teleprompter. When Jack was around, all eyes were on him. It was a small blessing. The last thing he wanted was to get chased out of the Broadcast Tower for being a Downer.

Was he a Downer now? Well, here he was, deliberately not taking his Joy. There weren't any other words for it.

Arthur managed to get behind the teleprompter controls just as Jack was coming out of his dressing room. Arthur was breathing a little too hard, partially from rushing but mostly from anxiety. He wasn't making any noise, but if someone looked at him, he didn't know what they'd see. For once it paid off that no one ever gave him a second glance.

Arthur operated the teleprompter so automatically he didn't even comprehend what the topic was until Jack was already reading it. Jack was wearing his Humor Hour costume. Arthur had time to think that the giant bowtie was really too ridiculous when you weren't on Joy when his eyes scanned ahead on the teleprompter and he realized the segment was a fan-favorite recurring topic. Downer jokes.

What's the difference between a Downer and an onion? read the first one. No one cries when you chop up a Downer.

Arthur was fairly certain all the color drained from his face. These jokes were about him, now. It made him seriously question whether it was the right decision to stop taking his Joy. The smart thing would be to go back on it and pop a Joy the instant he could leave the teleprompter.

But he wasn't going to do that, was he? He wanted too badly to remember. As Uncle Jack started to read the jokes and laugh too hard at them, Arthur began to shake. Had Jack always been that... Threatening? Was being off Joy making everything feel a lot more dangerous than it had a few hours prior, or had it always been that terrifying, and Arthur just didn't notice?

[unclejackworthing]

Jack watches carefully as Arthur puts the pieces together, soft brows furrowed. In all his startled realizations, he forgets again that he can simply call him Jack, especially now. They know things about each other that no one else knows. There's an intimacy in the circumstances they've been forced into. Maybe it's fate. Maybe Arthur, some way, some how, is meant to assist Jack's god given mission. Or maybe he's another test. A distraction.

He's blunt when he speaks. It's difficult to tell exactly how much of his vaguely insulting commentary is intentional and how much of it is just neutral stream of consciousness. The way he speaks without considering the implications is familiar in a way that makes him trust Arthur even more.

Rosemary was always opinionated. It's always been something he never could resist. He leans towards this being a test- one he fears he's going to fail. But, does anything really matter anymore?

“People believe what they want to believe. Especially here. No one wants to think their hero is a downer. But, the shy pretty boy who's already setting unreasonable standards for how much work should be getting done around here?”

He can't help but to grin, despite the danger they're both in. There's something delightful about the damsel in distress element of it all. The man before him reminds him of a delicate flower- he can either crush him singlehandedly, or keep him protected and admired in a vase. But, even roses have thorns; he knows there's more to Arthur than meets the eye.

“Oh, you don't stand a chance. Clive's been complaining that you're a downer for months now.”

@unclejackworthing

When Arthur lost his job at the "O" Courant, he was hired on as a writer at the Wellington Wells Broadcast Corporation. Over the years, he ended up doing many things other than writing, but technically, his job was to come up with the fun, light topics Uncle Jack talked about. This segment was on the uses of a common flower in Wellington Wells, the Rose of Gilead.

Arthur was alone in the writers' room when he started working on it. He was often alone in the writers' room. Getting work done wasn't a strong suit for the people of Wellington Wells. It was one of the most quiet places in the studio and he often popped in there to get some ideas for upcoming shows written down.

That was the case with this Rose of Gilead show. Arthur usually had to do more research for these sort of segments, Arthur found that the words came easily. Soon he had written down a recipe for a medicinal balm that soothed minor wounds without even thinking.

Funny that he still remembered it. He'd never been much interested in flowers, but Percy had told him so many times he could never forget it. He would repeat it over and over again, any time he was thinking about it, and Arthur could hear every word of the instructions he'd written down in Percy's voice, clear as day. And with it came the memory of that same voice screaming out Arthur's name, over and over again, and Arthur became urgently aware that he needed to take his Joy.

But he didn't.

He still hadn't taken his Joy when one of his coworkers rushed in, demanding to know where he'd been. Arthur started some excuse about having his nose to the grindstone, and she interrupted him to say it didn't matter, didn't he know that filming was going to start any minute now? Uncle Jack would be furious if no one was operating the teleprompter, she said, and Arthur knew very well that that was his job, because Jack snapped when people took too long, and he wasn't going to put his colleagues like her through that, was he? Of course not.

She was so focused on her own ranting that she didn't seem to notice Arthur's haggard appearance. It was a good thing that no one would be looking at Arthur behind the teleprompter. When Jack was around, all eyes were on him. It was a small blessing. The last thing he wanted was to get chased out of the Broadcast Tower for being a Downer.

Was he a Downer now? Well, here he was, deliberately not taking his Joy. There weren't any other words for it.

Arthur managed to get behind the teleprompter controls just as Jack was coming out of his dressing room. Arthur was breathing a little too hard, partially from rushing but mostly from anxiety. He wasn't making any noise, but if someone looked at him, he didn't know what they'd see. For once it paid off that no one ever gave him a second glance.

Arthur operated the teleprompter so automatically he didn't even comprehend what the topic was until Jack was already reading it. Jack was wearing his Humor Hour costume. Arthur had time to think that the giant bowtie was really too ridiculous when you weren't on Joy when his eyes scanned ahead on the teleprompter and he realized the segment was a fan-favorite recurring topic. Downer jokes.

What's the difference between a Downer and an onion? read the first one. No one cries when you chop up a Downer.

Arthur was fairly certain all the color drained from his face. These jokes were about him, now. It made him seriously question whether it was the right decision to stop taking his Joy. The smart thing would be to go back on it and pop a Joy the instant he could leave the teleprompter.

But he wasn't going to do that, was he? He wanted too badly to remember. As Uncle Jack started to read the jokes and laugh too hard at them, Arthur began to shake. Had Jack always been that... Threatening? Was being off Joy making everything feel a lot more dangerous than it had a few hours prior, or had it always been that terrifying, and Arthur just didn't notice?

[unclejackworthing]

There it is: Confirmation that he really has gone off his Joy. But, the way he phrases it gives so much away. He needs to remember. It isn't the side effects, like it has been for everyone else. He's made the conscious choice to defy everything society's taught him, and the choice to defy Jack by sticking to his beliefs despite being so scared that he's shaking.

“Well, that makes things very complicated for the both of us.” He tosses the pill aside, letting it fall to the ground, but doesn't allow Arthur the space to run.

“I don't suppose you have a plan, do you? No, if you had one, you'd be using it by now.” Maybe it comes off condescending, but how can he not? Arthur is being reckless and, whether he likes it or not, Jack is involved now. He's torn between admiration and irritation. Arthur just keeps getting more attractive- but also more of a liability.

“People are going to notice, you know. They won't all be so forgiving.”

@unclejackworthing

When Arthur lost his job at the "O" Courant, he was hired on as a writer at the Wellington Wells Broadcast Corporation. Over the years, he ended up doing many things other than writing, but technically, his job was to come up with the fun, light topics Uncle Jack talked about. This segment was on the uses of a common flower in Wellington Wells, the Rose of Gilead.

Arthur was alone in the writers' room when he started working on it. He was often alone in the writers' room. Getting work done wasn't a strong suit for the people of Wellington Wells. It was one of the most quiet places in the studio and he often popped in there to get some ideas for upcoming shows written down.

That was the case with this Rose of Gilead show. Arthur usually had to do more research for these sort of segments, Arthur found that the words came easily. Soon he had written down a recipe for a medicinal balm that soothed minor wounds without even thinking.

Funny that he still remembered it. He'd never been much interested in flowers, but Percy had told him so many times he could never forget it. He would repeat it over and over again, any time he was thinking about it, and Arthur could hear every word of the instructions he'd written down in Percy's voice, clear as day. And with it came the memory of that same voice screaming out Arthur's name, over and over again, and Arthur became urgently aware that he needed to take his Joy.

But he didn't.

He still hadn't taken his Joy when one of his coworkers rushed in, demanding to know where he'd been. Arthur started some excuse about having his nose to the grindstone, and she interrupted him to say it didn't matter, didn't he know that filming was going to start any minute now? Uncle Jack would be furious if no one was operating the teleprompter, she said, and Arthur knew very well that that was his job, because Jack snapped when people took too long, and he wasn't going to put his colleagues like her through that, was he? Of course not.

She was so focused on her own ranting that she didn't seem to notice Arthur's haggard appearance. It was a good thing that no one would be looking at Arthur behind the teleprompter. When Jack was around, all eyes were on him. It was a small blessing. The last thing he wanted was to get chased out of the Broadcast Tower for being a Downer.

Was he a Downer now? Well, here he was, deliberately not taking his Joy. There weren't any other words for it.

Arthur managed to get behind the teleprompter controls just as Jack was coming out of his dressing room. Arthur was breathing a little too hard, partially from rushing but mostly from anxiety. He wasn't making any noise, but if someone looked at him, he didn't know what they'd see. For once it paid off that no one ever gave him a second glance.

Arthur operated the teleprompter so automatically he didn't even comprehend what the topic was until Jack was already reading it. Jack was wearing his Humor Hour costume. Arthur had time to think that the giant bowtie was really too ridiculous when you weren't on Joy when his eyes scanned ahead on the teleprompter and he realized the segment was a fan-favorite recurring topic. Downer jokes.

What's the difference between a Downer and an onion? read the first one. No one cries when you chop up a Downer.

Arthur was fairly certain all the color drained from his face. These jokes were about him, now. It made him seriously question whether it was the right decision to stop taking his Joy. The smart thing would be to go back on it and pop a Joy the instant he could leave the teleprompter.

But he wasn't going to do that, was he? He wanted too badly to remember. As Uncle Jack started to read the jokes and laugh too hard at them, Arthur began to shake. Had Jack always been that... Threatening? Was being off Joy making everything feel a lot more dangerous than it had a few hours prior, or had it always been that terrifying, and Arthur just didn't notice?

[unclejackworthing]

The door is shut behind them as Arthur rambles panicked compliments. Jack is barely listening. He has decisions to make. If he was going to kill him swiftly, this would be the time and the place. But… if he wanted to solidify his own identity as definitely not a downer, he could wait until Arthur inevitably causes a huge scene, kill him in front of everyone, and be hailed as a hero for ten minutes until everyone forgets all about it.

Or- he could blackmail him; Promise he won't give him away to the others so long as Arthur does him a favor here in the private of his dressing room. But, that isn't his style, despite it crossing his mind. This isn't the Reform Club, and he isn't going to risk his own life just to get a piece of Arthur, cute as he may be. He needs to stay focused.

He takes a step forward, essentially cornering Arthur between his body and the makeup table, then retrieves a bottle of Joy from a drawer just next to him. He holds a single pill up close to Arthur's lips.

“Here. Go ahead.”

Either he goes back on his Joy and this whole problem goes away, or he says ‘no’ to one of the most powerful men in the building and proves that maybe there's more to him than a pretty face. That is, if he even can go back on his Joy. Jack knows about the side effects better than anyone. But, he'll wait for Arthur to make a move before he does anything rash.

@unclejackworthing

When Arthur lost his job at the "O" Courant, he was hired on as a writer at the Wellington Wells Broadcast Corporation. Over the years, he ended up doing many things other than writing, but technically, his job was to come up with the fun, light topics Uncle Jack talked about. This segment was on the uses of a common flower in Wellington Wells, the Rose of Gilead.

Arthur was alone in the writers' room when he started working on it. He was often alone in the writers' room. Getting work done wasn't a strong suit for the people of Wellington Wells. It was one of the most quiet places in the studio and he often popped in there to get some ideas for upcoming shows written down.

That was the case with this Rose of Gilead show. Arthur usually had to do more research for these sort of segments, Arthur found that the words came easily. Soon he had written down a recipe for a medicinal balm that soothed minor wounds without even thinking.

Funny that he still remembered it. He'd never been much interested in flowers, but Percy had told him so many times he could never forget it. He would repeat it over and over again, any time he was thinking about it, and Arthur could hear every word of the instructions he'd written down in Percy's voice, clear as day. And with it came the memory of that same voice screaming out Arthur's name, over and over again, and Arthur became urgently aware that he needed to take his Joy.

But he didn't.

He still hadn't taken his Joy when one of his coworkers rushed in, demanding to know where he'd been. Arthur started some excuse about having his nose to the grindstone, and she interrupted him to say it didn't matter, didn't he know that filming was going to start any minute now? Uncle Jack would be furious if no one was operating the teleprompter, she said, and Arthur knew very well that that was his job, because Jack snapped when people took too long, and he wasn't going to put his colleagues like her through that, was he? Of course not.

She was so focused on her own ranting that she didn't seem to notice Arthur's haggard appearance. It was a good thing that no one would be looking at Arthur behind the teleprompter. When Jack was around, all eyes were on him. It was a small blessing. The last thing he wanted was to get chased out of the Broadcast Tower for being a Downer.

Was he a Downer now? Well, here he was, deliberately not taking his Joy. There weren't any other words for it.

Arthur managed to get behind the teleprompter controls just as Jack was coming out of his dressing room. Arthur was breathing a little too hard, partially from rushing but mostly from anxiety. He wasn't making any noise, but if someone looked at him, he didn't know what they'd see. For once it paid off that no one ever gave him a second glance.

Arthur operated the teleprompter so automatically he didn't even comprehend what the topic was until Jack was already reading it. Jack was wearing his Humor Hour costume. Arthur had time to think that the giant bowtie was really too ridiculous when you weren't on Joy when his eyes scanned ahead on the teleprompter and he realized the segment was a fan-favorite recurring topic. Downer jokes.

What's the difference between a Downer and an onion? read the first one. No one cries when you chop up a Downer.

Arthur was fairly certain all the color drained from his face. These jokes were about him, now. It made him seriously question whether it was the right decision to stop taking his Joy. The smart thing would be to go back on it and pop a Joy the instant he could leave the teleprompter.

But he wasn't going to do that, was he? He wanted too badly to remember. As Uncle Jack started to read the jokes and laugh too hard at them, Arthur began to shake. Had Jack always been that... Threatening? Was being off Joy making everything feel a lot more dangerous than it had a few hours prior, or had it always been that terrifying, and Arthur just didn't notice?

[unclejackworthing]

Though Arthur sounds certain, repeating himself firmly so nothing can be misconstrued, he still sounds nervous, as well. Jack knows it's likely only first time jitters, but… it's important to be sure that Arthur is okay. It's been made clear already that he thrives on praise and reassurance- Jack continues to rely on that to try and ease Arthur's discomfort.

He presses another light kiss to Arthur's collarbone, murmuring reassurance against his skin. “Don't be so shy. I've already seen it, you know… and I liked it. You really are gorgeous…”

Carefully this time, he unbuttons a single button. Then, without any protest from Arthur, another one. “You're doing perfect, my dear…

Another few kisses follow, taking in the freshly revealed flesh as he continues to unbutton the next one. Though he takes it slow, giving Arthur every opportunity for a break, it's still so easy to get lost in the scent of him, the feel of soft skin against his lips, against his fingertips. He'd nearly forgotten what it felt like to be this content without Joy- being in Arthur's presence is enough to intoxicate him.

@unclejackworthing

It was Arthur's fault for getting too comfortable. Jack was in the kitchen trying to figure something out while Arthur waited in the living room. Jack was only a room away. He got too comfortable.

When the knock on the door came, he nearly jumped out of his skin. He was in no state to entertain company. He was wearing someone else's pajamas and covered in bruises after his last encounter. But when he he hesitated too long, he heard a voice through the door:

"You'll want to cooperate, of course. It's a matter of your health." Arthur looked through the window and made direct eye contact with a doctor. Another one was behind him, difficult to mistake when they were dressed almost identically in the same odd fashion sense common among Wellington Wells' medical community.

Arthur's heart sunk, but he put on the best smile he could and opened the door. He tried to keep his body mostly behind it. "Gentlemen! Lovely day for it! Now what's all this about a medical emergency?"

"Yes, well, you'll forgive the intrusion, but my colleague and I happened to be wandering along when caught your scent through the window. It's ajar."

Arthur looked at it again. Indeed it was. Why did every little thing have to go wrong? The doctor pushed past Arthur into the living room, then turned to face him, so Arthur had a doctor on both sides.

"And, when we'd sniffed you out, then we couldn't help but notice that peculiar pungency telltale of one off their Joy." The doctor smiled, his creepy little mustache curving up at the edges. "So of course we both agreed it was our medical duty to come remedy the situation."

"Oh, dear!" It wasn't difficult to look horrified. It was harder to to look like he had nothing to hide. "Silly me! Has it been that long since I've popped a Joy? I'll take one straight away. I'm so thankful to you for warning me, Doctor." Arthur kept turning between the doctors, unsure which one to face. "And, uh, Doctor. Jolly decent of you."

"Yes, we'll administer a dose presently." The doctor leaned close, peering at Arthur with one fish eye. The one behind Arthur--he was getting them mixed up now--took a noisy sniff of Arthur's neck. "Are you certain you don't need more extreme medical intervention, sir? You do seem to be rather beat up."

"Oh, not at all! That's why I'm at home in my pajamas, you see. Silly me, I tripped down the stairs and the doctor put me on strict bed rest until I've healed up."

If only smiling hard enough would make them believe him. His cheeks were starting to hurt. "I've been going crazy here at home instead of at work. I'm sure the Joy will help with that." Arthur tried to step out from between the duo. "I'll just step away and go take care of that right now. I shouldn't waste another minute."

The doctor behind Arthur grabbed his upper arm and wrenched him back in place. "You'll forgive us for wanting to take you back to the office just to be sure. It is a matter of your health, after all. You can't be too careful."

"Oh, pish-posh!" said Arthur desperately. "I'm as healthy as a horse. Just some light bruising."

"I think that's for a qualified medical professional to to decide, don't you think?" The doctor in front of Arthur produced a rather large syringe as the one behind him held Arthur's arms. "But first there is the matter of your Joy. I think you'll be much more agreeable once the proper dosage is applied.

The doctor came in close and tilted Arthur's head up to expose his neck. He ran a finger along the vein he chose and then stabbed the needle into Arthur's skin, fully compressing the plunger and emptying the pink liquid into Arthur's bloodstream.

"Shit," said Arthur. His legs had suddenly stopped working correctly. He collapsed into the doctor's arms. Too much Joy.

[unclejackworthing]

The way Arthur addresses him doesn't go unnoticed. He's used to having to correct him every time they speak; Arthur always defaults to the too formal, too polite. But, suddenly, he can remember enough to correct himself. Unsurprising, given all the other red flags.

First things first, they need to get away from the prying eyes of everyone else. Oblivious as their coworkers may be, Arthur isn't being particularly subtle.

“I'm sure it's nothing popping a Joy won't fix, isn't that right? You look about due for one…”

He smiles, though really it's more of a grimace. This is the last thing he wants to be dealing with today. Can't things ever just be easy?

“I have a full bottle back in my dressing room. I think you'd better join me.” His hand moves to rest, rather firmly, against Arthur's back; Arthur coming with him isn't simply a suggestion.

@unclejackworthing

When Arthur lost his job at the "O" Courant, he was hired on as a writer at the Wellington Wells Broadcast Corporation. Over the years, he ended up doing many things other than writing, but technically, his job was to come up with the fun, light topics Uncle Jack talked about. This segment was on the uses of a common flower in Wellington Wells, the Rose of Gilead.

Arthur was alone in the writers' room when he started working on it. He was often alone in the writers' room. Getting work done wasn't a strong suit for the people of Wellington Wells. It was one of the most quiet places in the studio and he often popped in there to get some ideas for upcoming shows written down.

That was the case with this Rose of Gilead show. Arthur usually had to do more research for these sort of segments, Arthur found that the words came easily. Soon he had written down a recipe for a medicinal balm that soothed minor wounds without even thinking.

Funny that he still remembered it. He'd never been much interested in flowers, but Percy had told him so many times he could never forget it. He would repeat it over and over again, any time he was thinking about it, and Arthur could hear every word of the instructions he'd written down in Percy's voice, clear as day. And with it came the memory of that same voice screaming out Arthur's name, over and over again, and Arthur became urgently aware that he needed to take his Joy.

But he didn't.

He still hadn't taken his Joy when one of his coworkers rushed in, demanding to know where he'd been. Arthur started some excuse about having his nose to the grindstone, and she interrupted him to say it didn't matter, didn't he know that filming was going to start any minute now? Uncle Jack would be furious if no one was operating the teleprompter, she said, and Arthur knew very well that that was his job, because Jack snapped when people took too long, and he wasn't going to put his colleagues like her through that, was he? Of course not.

She was so focused on her own ranting that she didn't seem to notice Arthur's haggard appearance. It was a good thing that no one would be looking at Arthur behind the teleprompter. When Jack was around, all eyes were on him. It was a small blessing. The last thing he wanted was to get chased out of the Broadcast Tower for being a Downer.

Was he a Downer now? Well, here he was, deliberately not taking his Joy. There weren't any other words for it.

Arthur managed to get behind the teleprompter controls just as Jack was coming out of his dressing room. Arthur was breathing a little too hard, partially from rushing but mostly from anxiety. He wasn't making any noise, but if someone looked at him, he didn't know what they'd see. For once it paid off that no one ever gave him a second glance.

Arthur operated the teleprompter so automatically he didn't even comprehend what the topic was until Jack was already reading it. Jack was wearing his Humor Hour costume. Arthur had time to think that the giant bowtie was really too ridiculous when you weren't on Joy when his eyes scanned ahead on the teleprompter and he realized the segment was a fan-favorite recurring topic. Downer jokes.

What's the difference between a Downer and an onion? read the first one. No one cries when you chop up a Downer.

Arthur was fairly certain all the color drained from his face. These jokes were about him, now. It made him seriously question whether it was the right decision to stop taking his Joy. The smart thing would be to go back on it and pop a Joy the instant he could leave the teleprompter.

But he wasn't going to do that, was he? He wanted too badly to remember. As Uncle Jack started to read the jokes and laugh too hard at them, Arthur began to shake. Had Jack always been that... Threatening? Was being off Joy making everything feel a lot more dangerous than it had a few hours prior, or had it always been that terrifying, and Arthur just didn't notice?

[unclejackworthing]

Though Arthur's words are blunt, they're far from harsh. You are your own actions. It's easy to drown in the guilt of everything he's done in the past, to dwell on good and bad. It's easy to consider himself irredeemable. But, what do his actions now say? He's trying to save someone's life, at the risk of his own. He's been keeping Arthur safe, helping him do silly little errands, making the right choices. It's easy to think that the bad actions have poisoned all the rest. But, have they?

Arthur continues on and only confirms his theories. When is the last time he didn't fully feel like a lost cause? “Perhaps. I'm… trying, anyway. Thank you.”

Why is it always so difficult to talk about himself? Instinct is always to shift the conversation back to Arthur. But, Arthur needs it. The reminder that he's been on Joy ever since he was a teenager, that he never got to grow up with any sort of normal human connection, isn't something he can simply gloss over and ignore.

He can see who Arthur is plain as day. But, Arthur is going to have to see it himself on his own time frame; there's no way to force it. “You'll find out who you are soon enough. I think you're already on the right path, wouldn't you say? Not many people have the compassion that you do. Even before Joy not many people had it. Or the smarts. If this is the worst in you, you're going to do amazing things once you leave here.”

@unclejackworthing

Arthur had gotten a little too far away from Jack. He knew he was going to get told off for it when Jack inevitably caught up—but was it his fault he was faster than a man twenty years his senior? (Arthur was still grappling with that little facet of this whole thing.) Of course there was a part of him that was testing boundaries to see if he could get away with it. He might have been deliberately mixing in with the crowd in the hopes that Jack would lose sight of him. Jack could never prove it was intentional.

He was so focused on Jack that he didn't realize the alley he slipped into wasn't empty until it was too late. There was a gaggle of Plough Boys already occupying the area and they took notice of Arthur's entry.

“Well, if it isn't Arthur Hastings,” said one of them. Arthur recognized him vaguely from school, one of the older boys who was always picking on him and Sally. “I heard you got a fancy job in the Parade. What are you doing slumming it with the rest of us here?”

Arthur had done much more slumming it than in Hamlyn Village. He'd spent more than enough time in the Garden District lately, but he kept that to himself. “Lovely to see you,” he said nervously, backing up into the alley wall as the three Plough Boys spread out to corner Arthur. “But I really should be going…”

“Nah,” said the ringleader, pulling out a lead pipe. “The way I see it, if you're working in the Parade, you must be loaded, right?”

“I don't—work in the Parade anymore, as such,” started Arthur, but he wasn't given a chance to explain.

With a cry of “get ‘im, boys,” the three men fell upon Arthur and started to whale on him with their weapons. Arthur was on the ground almost instantly. He curled up into a ball as the blows rained down on him, arms over his head to protect it. Their laughter rung in his ears.

Something with a sharp edge caught Arthur's side and a pained noise escaped him as blood began to gush from the wound. Arthur tried to stem it with his hands, but the ringleader smacked his arm away with the pipe and flipped Arthur onto his back to look at him. He stepped on his stomach, making it difficult for Arthur to breathe. “You always were an easy target,” laughed the Plough Boy. Arthur looked over his shoulder to make eye contact with Jack.

Fuck.

Arthur didn't know whether he should be relieved or even more scared. All he did was freeze, unable to look away from Jack's approach.

[unclejackworthing]

Arthur's hand brushes against his face and, for a moment, he's concerned- he's worried that he's moving too fast, that Arthur needs more time, that he's going to push him away altogether. But, then, he doesn't. He simply tilts Jack's head back just enough to find his mouth, then kisses him hard.

His eyes go wide in surprise. He doesn't kiss back, too caught off guard by Arthur's sudden boldness. All he really manages to do is gasp against Arthur's mouth, barely regaining his bearings by the time Arthur pulls away with a laugh.

He can't help but to laugh back. Timid as Arthur can be, it shouldn't come as any surprise that he has this bratty side. He's been making his opinions very well known since the moment they met. Before he responds, he kisses him again, just as hard, to remind him of who's in charge. “Well, you succeeded.”

Fingers play at the next button of Arthur's pajama top; not yet opening it, but letting the threat linger. “Why don't we start undressing you, since you're feeling so bold?”

@unclejackworthing

It was Arthur's fault for getting too comfortable. Jack was in the kitchen trying to figure something out while Arthur waited in the living room. Jack was only a room away. He got too comfortable.

When the knock on the door came, he nearly jumped out of his skin. He was in no state to entertain company. He was wearing someone else's pajamas and covered in bruises after his last encounter. But when he he hesitated too long, he heard a voice through the door:

"You'll want to cooperate, of course. It's a matter of your health." Arthur looked through the window and made direct eye contact with a doctor. Another one was behind him, difficult to mistake when they were dressed almost identically in the same odd fashion sense common among Wellington Wells' medical community.

Arthur's heart sunk, but he put on the best smile he could and opened the door. He tried to keep his body mostly behind it. "Gentlemen! Lovely day for it! Now what's all this about a medical emergency?"

"Yes, well, you'll forgive the intrusion, but my colleague and I happened to be wandering along when caught your scent through the window. It's ajar."

Arthur looked at it again. Indeed it was. Why did every little thing have to go wrong? The doctor pushed past Arthur into the living room, then turned to face him, so Arthur had a doctor on both sides.

"And, when we'd sniffed you out, then we couldn't help but notice that peculiar pungency telltale of one off their Joy." The doctor smiled, his creepy little mustache curving up at the edges. "So of course we both agreed it was our medical duty to come remedy the situation."

"Oh, dear!" It wasn't difficult to look horrified. It was harder to to look like he had nothing to hide. "Silly me! Has it been that long since I've popped a Joy? I'll take one straight away. I'm so thankful to you for warning me, Doctor." Arthur kept turning between the doctors, unsure which one to face. "And, uh, Doctor. Jolly decent of you."

"Yes, we'll administer a dose presently." The doctor leaned close, peering at Arthur with one fish eye. The one behind Arthur--he was getting them mixed up now--took a noisy sniff of Arthur's neck. "Are you certain you don't need more extreme medical intervention, sir? You do seem to be rather beat up."

"Oh, not at all! That's why I'm at home in my pajamas, you see. Silly me, I tripped down the stairs and the doctor put me on strict bed rest until I've healed up."

If only smiling hard enough would make them believe him. His cheeks were starting to hurt. "I've been going crazy here at home instead of at work. I'm sure the Joy will help with that." Arthur tried to step out from between the duo. "I'll just step away and go take care of that right now. I shouldn't waste another minute."

The doctor behind Arthur grabbed his upper arm and wrenched him back in place. "You'll forgive us for wanting to take you back to the office just to be sure. It is a matter of your health, after all. You can't be too careful."

"Oh, pish-posh!" said Arthur desperately. "I'm as healthy as a horse. Just some light bruising."

"I think that's for a qualified medical professional to to decide, don't you think?" The doctor in front of Arthur produced a rather large syringe as the one behind him held Arthur's arms. "But first there is the matter of your Joy. I think you'll be much more agreeable once the proper dosage is applied.

The doctor came in close and tilted Arthur's head up to expose his neck. He ran a finger along the vein he chose and then stabbed the needle into Arthur's skin, fully compressing the plunger and emptying the pink liquid into Arthur's bloodstream.

"Shit," said Arthur. His legs had suddenly stopped working correctly. He collapsed into the doctor's arms. Too much Joy.

[unclejackworthing]

He comes closer again as Arthur smiles, shifting to once more straddle him. Grateful as he is that they had a chance to discuss boundaries, he's just as grateful to get back into the swing of things. It isn't the time for more long sad talks about the past; not when Arthur is so sweet and so eager and so responsive to every bit of praise he has to offer. 

He presses another kiss to his lips, allows this one to drag on longer than the last, then finds his sensitive throat once more. He kisses him there hard, lightly nibbling at the skin just to remind him of what's happening in the present. A hand finds his thigh once more, then slides up to his hip, finding soft bare skin between the gap in his pajamas. 

His thumb traces over the skin as he speaks, “When is it going to sink in that just being your beautiful self is enough?”

@unclejackworthing

It was Arthur's fault for getting too comfortable. Jack was in the kitchen trying to figure something out while Arthur waited in the living room. Jack was only a room away. He got too comfortable.

When the knock on the door came, he nearly jumped out of his skin. He was in no state to entertain company. He was wearing someone else's pajamas and covered in bruises after his last encounter. But when he he hesitated too long, he heard a voice through the door:

"You'll want to cooperate, of course. It's a matter of your health." Arthur looked through the window and made direct eye contact with a doctor. Another one was behind him, difficult to mistake when they were dressed almost identically in the same odd fashion sense common among Wellington Wells' medical community.

Arthur's heart sunk, but he put on the best smile he could and opened the door. He tried to keep his body mostly behind it. "Gentlemen! Lovely day for it! Now what's all this about a medical emergency?"

"Yes, well, you'll forgive the intrusion, but my colleague and I happened to be wandering along when caught your scent through the window. It's ajar."

Arthur looked at it again. Indeed it was. Why did every little thing have to go wrong? The doctor pushed past Arthur into the living room, then turned to face him, so Arthur had a doctor on both sides.

"And, when we'd sniffed you out, then we couldn't help but notice that peculiar pungency telltale of one off their Joy." The doctor smiled, his creepy little mustache curving up at the edges. "So of course we both agreed it was our medical duty to come remedy the situation."

"Oh, dear!" It wasn't difficult to look horrified. It was harder to to look like he had nothing to hide. "Silly me! Has it been that long since I've popped a Joy? I'll take one straight away. I'm so thankful to you for warning me, Doctor." Arthur kept turning between the doctors, unsure which one to face. "And, uh, Doctor. Jolly decent of you."

"Yes, we'll administer a dose presently." The doctor leaned close, peering at Arthur with one fish eye. The one behind Arthur--he was getting them mixed up now--took a noisy sniff of Arthur's neck. "Are you certain you don't need more extreme medical intervention, sir? You do seem to be rather beat up."

"Oh, not at all! That's why I'm at home in my pajamas, you see. Silly me, I tripped down the stairs and the doctor put me on strict bed rest until I've healed up."

If only smiling hard enough would make them believe him. His cheeks were starting to hurt. "I've been going crazy here at home instead of at work. I'm sure the Joy will help with that." Arthur tried to step out from between the duo. "I'll just step away and go take care of that right now. I shouldn't waste another minute."

The doctor behind Arthur grabbed his upper arm and wrenched him back in place. "You'll forgive us for wanting to take you back to the office just to be sure. It is a matter of your health, after all. You can't be too careful."

"Oh, pish-posh!" said Arthur desperately. "I'm as healthy as a horse. Just some light bruising."

"I think that's for a qualified medical professional to to decide, don't you think?" The doctor in front of Arthur produced a rather large syringe as the one behind him held Arthur's arms. "But first there is the matter of your Joy. I think you'll be much more agreeable once the proper dosage is applied.

The doctor came in close and tilted Arthur's head up to expose his neck. He ran a finger along the vein he chose and then stabbed the needle into Arthur's skin, fully compressing the plunger and emptying the pink liquid into Arthur's bloodstream.

"Shit," said Arthur. His legs had suddenly stopped working correctly. He collapsed into the doctor's arms. Too much Joy.

[unclejackworthing]

“I'll be alright, dear. I've had time to think things over. More than enough time. I'm tired of thinking.” How much of his life had he spent mourning? Before the ‘miracle’ of Joy? After? On the occasional late night when the Joy would wear off and he wouldn't immediately take another one because doesn't he deserve this for what he let happen to them?

He's spent so much time coming to terms with the Joy no longer working; with the fact that it was fate for it to stop working, with the fact that he'd only been putting off the inevitable. It came as no surprise that someday he'd have to pay for everything he'd been accessory to, that he'd be put in a position to pay it all back and make things even if he ever wanted the suffering to stop. Then Arthur appeared, like an angel from heaven, offering him another path out.

He didn't think he'd ever serve his sentence; that he'd die still trying to make things fair. He knows this new plan isn't going to be easy, but it's going to be final. He'll make up for it all. The end is in sight.

If he wasn't ready for all this, he wouldn't be here. For once, his mind isn't clouded with the past. For once he's present in the moment, and he isn't going to take that moment for granted. He presses a soft kiss to Arthur's lips, reassuring him that he still wants this, more than anything. He wants to get lost in Arthur again, to forget about everything else, just for the moment.

“You're doing wonderful, Arthur. Just focus on that- on how impressed I am with you.”

@unclejackworthing

It was Arthur's fault for getting too comfortable. Jack was in the kitchen trying to figure something out while Arthur waited in the living room. Jack was only a room away. He got too comfortable.

When the knock on the door came, he nearly jumped out of his skin. He was in no state to entertain company. He was wearing someone else's pajamas and covered in bruises after his last encounter. But when he he hesitated too long, he heard a voice through the door:

"You'll want to cooperate, of course. It's a matter of your health." Arthur looked through the window and made direct eye contact with a doctor. Another one was behind him, difficult to mistake when they were dressed almost identically in the same odd fashion sense common among Wellington Wells' medical community.

Arthur's heart sunk, but he put on the best smile he could and opened the door. He tried to keep his body mostly behind it. "Gentlemen! Lovely day for it! Now what's all this about a medical emergency?"

"Yes, well, you'll forgive the intrusion, but my colleague and I happened to be wandering along when caught your scent through the window. It's ajar."

Arthur looked at it again. Indeed it was. Why did every little thing have to go wrong? The doctor pushed past Arthur into the living room, then turned to face him, so Arthur had a doctor on both sides.

"And, when we'd sniffed you out, then we couldn't help but notice that peculiar pungency telltale of one off their Joy." The doctor smiled, his creepy little mustache curving up at the edges. "So of course we both agreed it was our medical duty to come remedy the situation."

"Oh, dear!" It wasn't difficult to look horrified. It was harder to to look like he had nothing to hide. "Silly me! Has it been that long since I've popped a Joy? I'll take one straight away. I'm so thankful to you for warning me, Doctor." Arthur kept turning between the doctors, unsure which one to face. "And, uh, Doctor. Jolly decent of you."

"Yes, we'll administer a dose presently." The doctor leaned close, peering at Arthur with one fish eye. The one behind Arthur--he was getting them mixed up now--took a noisy sniff of Arthur's neck. "Are you certain you don't need more extreme medical intervention, sir? You do seem to be rather beat up."

"Oh, not at all! That's why I'm at home in my pajamas, you see. Silly me, I tripped down the stairs and the doctor put me on strict bed rest until I've healed up."

If only smiling hard enough would make them believe him. His cheeks were starting to hurt. "I've been going crazy here at home instead of at work. I'm sure the Joy will help with that." Arthur tried to step out from between the duo. "I'll just step away and go take care of that right now. I shouldn't waste another minute."

The doctor behind Arthur grabbed his upper arm and wrenched him back in place. "You'll forgive us for wanting to take you back to the office just to be sure. It is a matter of your health, after all. You can't be too careful."

"Oh, pish-posh!" said Arthur desperately. "I'm as healthy as a horse. Just some light bruising."

"I think that's for a qualified medical professional to to decide, don't you think?" The doctor in front of Arthur produced a rather large syringe as the one behind him held Arthur's arms. "But first there is the matter of your Joy. I think you'll be much more agreeable once the proper dosage is applied.

The doctor came in close and tilted Arthur's head up to expose his neck. He ran a finger along the vein he chose and then stabbed the needle into Arthur's skin, fully compressing the plunger and emptying the pink liquid into Arthur's bloodstream.

"Shit," said Arthur. His legs had suddenly stopped working correctly. He collapsed into the doctor's arms. Too much Joy.

[unclejackworthing]

He can see Arthur working himself into a panic again before he even voices his worries. Not that he's concerned; he knows it won't take much at all to distract him again. But, in the meantime, he listens, and he does his best to ease Arthur's concerns.

“So many times? The Reform Club?” He can't help but to laugh at Arthur's nervous rambling. Somehow, he'd gotten it into his head that Jack had been a very busy man. Sure, he frequented the Reform Club, but those ventures stopped at spanking and slapping and electrocution. He was playing with violence there, not intimacy. The closest he'd gotten to this was vibration through rubber, all the control in his hands, the other person getting off- never anything that would force him to be vulnerable.

“You're absolutely correct that half the town has made a pass at me- and I've been rejecting them left and right. I know you're still struggling to wrap your head around the concept, but they aren't like you. It has to have been… twenty years since I've kissed someone the way I've been kissing you. It's been twenty years since I've wanted to touch anyone like this.”

There's a beat of silence as he tries to remember what else Arthur had mentioned in his panicked rambling. Oh, right- The man who's been whining and gasping and arching his back when he's barely even been touched yet is worried he's not doing enough, somehow.

“It isn't all so literal. You can lay there without just laying there. When men complain about women just laying there, it's the lack of enthusiasm- The laying there emotionless, counting down the minutes until it's over. If you ask me, the men are telling on themselves quite a bit.”

He leans in closer, ghosts a light kiss over Arthur's jaw. “You've been far from unresponsive, darling. Keep it up. All I want from you is for you to lay back and enjoy yourself- and keep giving me those beautiful moans.”

@unclejackworthing

It was Arthur's fault for getting too comfortable. Jack was in the kitchen trying to figure something out while Arthur waited in the living room. Jack was only a room away. He got too comfortable.

When the knock on the door came, he nearly jumped out of his skin. He was in no state to entertain company. He was wearing someone else's pajamas and covered in bruises after his last encounter. But when he he hesitated too long, he heard a voice through the door:

"You'll want to cooperate, of course. It's a matter of your health." Arthur looked through the window and made direct eye contact with a doctor. Another one was behind him, difficult to mistake when they were dressed almost identically in the same odd fashion sense common among Wellington Wells' medical community.

Arthur's heart sunk, but he put on the best smile he could and opened the door. He tried to keep his body mostly behind it. "Gentlemen! Lovely day for it! Now what's all this about a medical emergency?"

"Yes, well, you'll forgive the intrusion, but my colleague and I happened to be wandering along when caught your scent through the window. It's ajar."

Arthur looked at it again. Indeed it was. Why did every little thing have to go wrong? The doctor pushed past Arthur into the living room, then turned to face him, so Arthur had a doctor on both sides.

"And, when we'd sniffed you out, then we couldn't help but notice that peculiar pungency telltale of one off their Joy." The doctor smiled, his creepy little mustache curving up at the edges. "So of course we both agreed it was our medical duty to come remedy the situation."

"Oh, dear!" It wasn't difficult to look horrified. It was harder to to look like he had nothing to hide. "Silly me! Has it been that long since I've popped a Joy? I'll take one straight away. I'm so thankful to you for warning me, Doctor." Arthur kept turning between the doctors, unsure which one to face. "And, uh, Doctor. Jolly decent of you."

"Yes, we'll administer a dose presently." The doctor leaned close, peering at Arthur with one fish eye. The one behind Arthur--he was getting them mixed up now--took a noisy sniff of Arthur's neck. "Are you certain you don't need more extreme medical intervention, sir? You do seem to be rather beat up."

"Oh, not at all! That's why I'm at home in my pajamas, you see. Silly me, I tripped down the stairs and the doctor put me on strict bed rest until I've healed up."

If only smiling hard enough would make them believe him. His cheeks were starting to hurt. "I've been going crazy here at home instead of at work. I'm sure the Joy will help with that." Arthur tried to step out from between the duo. "I'll just step away and go take care of that right now. I shouldn't waste another minute."

The doctor behind Arthur grabbed his upper arm and wrenched him back in place. "You'll forgive us for wanting to take you back to the office just to be sure. It is a matter of your health, after all. You can't be too careful."

"Oh, pish-posh!" said Arthur desperately. "I'm as healthy as a horse. Just some light bruising."

"I think that's for a qualified medical professional to to decide, don't you think?" The doctor in front of Arthur produced a rather large syringe as the one behind him held Arthur's arms. "But first there is the matter of your Joy. I think you'll be much more agreeable once the proper dosage is applied.

The doctor came in close and tilted Arthur's head up to expose his neck. He ran a finger along the vein he chose and then stabbed the needle into Arthur's skin, fully compressing the plunger and emptying the pink liquid into Arthur's bloodstream.

"Shit," said Arthur. His legs had suddenly stopped working correctly. He collapsed into the doctor's arms. Too much Joy.

[unclejackworthing]

we've talked about how there are joy dispensers all over wellington wells and jack couldn't possibly have avoided all of them every time while he was still fitting in with proper society; he must have ridiculous control over himself to have successfully hidden the fact that he's seeing eyes everywhere.

[unclejackworthing]

✨

[unclejackworthing]

He pulls back just a little bit more as Arthur agrees that he needs a moment to breathe, laying on his side beside him. The fact that he needs a break doesn't come as a surprise. What he says next does.

He's not sure when ‘kiss me again’ turned into this confidence that they were guaranteed to have sex at any moment. He certainly doesn't mind, but it catches him off guard to say the least. He can't help but to grin at the way Arthur’s gotten himself so eager it circles back around to anxiety.

“Oh, heavens, Arthur! It's your first time. I wouldn't dream of doing anything so intense.” Anal takes preparation; you have to work up to it, and he can't imagine that the man whimpering under him at the lightest touch has spent much time experimenting with his own backside.

It's not like he had his heart set on it, anyway. Truth be told, it's new territory for him, as well. He'd been on the receiving end once or twice a lifetime ago, before his marriage, when he was younger than Arthur and just beginning to experiment with his sexuality. As far as giving was concerned, it just… hadn't come up.

A hand brushes Arthur's hair back from his forehead. He's gorgeous, even tearstained and bruised. “We’ll take it nice and slow. You don't have to do anything you aren't enjoying. There's no wrong way to do things.”

@unclejackworthing

It was Arthur's fault for getting too comfortable. Jack was in the kitchen trying to figure something out while Arthur waited in the living room. Jack was only a room away. He got too comfortable.

When the knock on the door came, he nearly jumped out of his skin. He was in no state to entertain company. He was wearing someone else's pajamas and covered in bruises after his last encounter. But when he he hesitated too long, he heard a voice through the door:

"You'll want to cooperate, of course. It's a matter of your health." Arthur looked through the window and made direct eye contact with a doctor. Another one was behind him, difficult to mistake when they were dressed almost identically in the same odd fashion sense common among Wellington Wells' medical community.

Arthur's heart sunk, but he put on the best smile he could and opened the door. He tried to keep his body mostly behind it. "Gentlemen! Lovely day for it! Now what's all this about a medical emergency?"

"Yes, well, you'll forgive the intrusion, but my colleague and I happened to be wandering along when caught your scent through the window. It's ajar."

Arthur looked at it again. Indeed it was. Why did every little thing have to go wrong? The doctor pushed past Arthur into the living room, then turned to face him, so Arthur had a doctor on both sides.

"And, when we'd sniffed you out, then we couldn't help but notice that peculiar pungency telltale of one off their Joy." The doctor smiled, his creepy little mustache curving up at the edges. "So of course we both agreed it was our medical duty to come remedy the situation."

"Oh, dear!" It wasn't difficult to look horrified. It was harder to to look like he had nothing to hide. "Silly me! Has it been that long since I've popped a Joy? I'll take one straight away. I'm so thankful to you for warning me, Doctor." Arthur kept turning between the doctors, unsure which one to face. "And, uh, Doctor. Jolly decent of you."

"Yes, we'll administer a dose presently." The doctor leaned close, peering at Arthur with one fish eye. The one behind Arthur--he was getting them mixed up now--took a noisy sniff of Arthur's neck. "Are you certain you don't need more extreme medical intervention, sir? You do seem to be rather beat up."

"Oh, not at all! That's why I'm at home in my pajamas, you see. Silly me, I tripped down the stairs and the doctor put me on strict bed rest until I've healed up."

If only smiling hard enough would make them believe him. His cheeks were starting to hurt. "I've been going crazy here at home instead of at work. I'm sure the Joy will help with that." Arthur tried to step out from between the duo. "I'll just step away and go take care of that right now. I shouldn't waste another minute."

The doctor behind Arthur grabbed his upper arm and wrenched him back in place. "You'll forgive us for wanting to take you back to the office just to be sure. It is a matter of your health, after all. You can't be too careful."

"Oh, pish-posh!" said Arthur desperately. "I'm as healthy as a horse. Just some light bruising."

"I think that's for a qualified medical professional to to decide, don't you think?" The doctor in front of Arthur produced a rather large syringe as the one behind him held Arthur's arms. "But first there is the matter of your Joy. I think you'll be much more agreeable once the proper dosage is applied.

The doctor came in close and tilted Arthur's head up to expose his neck. He ran a finger along the vein he chose and then stabbed the needle into Arthur's skin, fully compressing the plunger and emptying the pink liquid into Arthur's bloodstream.

"Shit," said Arthur. His legs had suddenly stopped working correctly. He collapsed into the doctor's arms. Too much Joy.

[unclejackworthing]

Jack's free hand finds the outside of Arthur's thigh, gently squeezing his leg through soft fabric of his pajamas as he kisses him again. Arthur’s reactions are overwhelming; every touch leaves him giggling and it makes Jack's head spin. He is paying close attention, though. The way Arthur reacts to him murmuring against his neck doesn't go unnoticed.

His mouth is on Arthur's again, rough and desperate. When he breaks the kiss, it's only to turn his attention to Arthur's throat. He trails open mouthed kisses along the sensitive flesh there, savoring the taste of him, each kiss just a touch longer and more haphazard than the last. 

There's an unmistakable hunger behind his actions. Every soft whimper he coaxes from his lover's lips only serves to amplify his frenzy, to leave him with no option but to kiss him harder in the hopes of drawing more gorgeous sounds from him. His hand moves from Arthur's thigh to the buttoned up collar of his pajamas. He attempts to tug his collar aside just slightly for better access; too much force. The top button pops clean off, exposing collarbone that he's quick to press his mouth against.

It's too much. He's beginning to feel like he can't stop himself; beginning to feel the way he does when he kills, animalistic and heated. He can't help but to remember how it felt the night the first met, Arthur pinned down in the moonlight, Jack nearly as hard against him as he is now. He knows by his mounting desperation that it's time to check in.

He pulls back every so slightly, still close to Arthur's skin as he catches his breath. “How are you feeling, my dear..? Should we take it a bit slower..?”

@unclejackworthing

It was Arthur's fault for getting too comfortable. Jack was in the kitchen trying to figure something out while Arthur waited in the living room. Jack was only a room away. He got too comfortable.

When the knock on the door came, he nearly jumped out of his skin. He was in no state to entertain company. He was wearing someone else's pajamas and covered in bruises after his last encounter. But when he he hesitated too long, he heard a voice through the door:

"You'll want to cooperate, of course. It's a matter of your health." Arthur looked through the window and made direct eye contact with a doctor. Another one was behind him, difficult to mistake when they were dressed almost identically in the same odd fashion sense common among Wellington Wells' medical community.

Arthur's heart sunk, but he put on the best smile he could and opened the door. He tried to keep his body mostly behind it. "Gentlemen! Lovely day for it! Now what's all this about a medical emergency?"

"Yes, well, you'll forgive the intrusion, but my colleague and I happened to be wandering along when caught your scent through the window. It's ajar."

Arthur looked at it again. Indeed it was. Why did every little thing have to go wrong? The doctor pushed past Arthur into the living room, then turned to face him, so Arthur had a doctor on both sides.

"And, when we'd sniffed you out, then we couldn't help but notice that peculiar pungency telltale of one off their Joy." The doctor smiled, his creepy little mustache curving up at the edges. "So of course we both agreed it was our medical duty to come remedy the situation."

"Oh, dear!" It wasn't difficult to look horrified. It was harder to to look like he had nothing to hide. "Silly me! Has it been that long since I've popped a Joy? I'll take one straight away. I'm so thankful to you for warning me, Doctor." Arthur kept turning between the doctors, unsure which one to face. "And, uh, Doctor. Jolly decent of you."

"Yes, we'll administer a dose presently." The doctor leaned close, peering at Arthur with one fish eye. The one behind Arthur--he was getting them mixed up now--took a noisy sniff of Arthur's neck. "Are you certain you don't need more extreme medical intervention, sir? You do seem to be rather beat up."

"Oh, not at all! That's why I'm at home in my pajamas, you see. Silly me, I tripped down the stairs and the doctor put me on strict bed rest until I've healed up."

If only smiling hard enough would make them believe him. His cheeks were starting to hurt. "I've been going crazy here at home instead of at work. I'm sure the Joy will help with that." Arthur tried to step out from between the duo. "I'll just step away and go take care of that right now. I shouldn't waste another minute."

The doctor behind Arthur grabbed his upper arm and wrenched him back in place. "You'll forgive us for wanting to take you back to the office just to be sure. It is a matter of your health, after all. You can't be too careful."

"Oh, pish-posh!" said Arthur desperately. "I'm as healthy as a horse. Just some light bruising."

"I think that's for a qualified medical professional to to decide, don't you think?" The doctor in front of Arthur produced a rather large syringe as the one behind him held Arthur's arms. "But first there is the matter of your Joy. I think you'll be much more agreeable once the proper dosage is applied.

The doctor came in close and tilted Arthur's head up to expose his neck. He ran a finger along the vein he chose and then stabbed the needle into Arthur's skin, fully compressing the plunger and emptying the pink liquid into Arthur's bloodstream.

"Shit," said Arthur. His legs had suddenly stopped working correctly. He collapsed into the doctor's arms. Too much Joy.

[unclejackworthing]

Arthur is clearly overwhelmed from only a few kisses, but he doesn't seem to dislike it. In fact, he seems to be having the time of his life. He's adorable, blushing and squirming under the affection. Endearing as it is, Jack is grateful for how easily overstimulated Arthur is for another reason; Jack is rusty beyond belief.

He's nervous, though only the tiniest bit. He feels like he's trying to remember all the steps to a dance he hasn't practiced in decades. But, Arthur is too distracted to really notice. They can get their bearings on the situation together.

“Oh, please. I may be famous, but you could model with those long legs.”

Gently, he grabs Arthur's wrist where he's touching his face and moves it out of the way, pins it to the pillow beside his head. In the process, he shifts closer to find a new angle, straddling Arthur with one knee between Arthur's thighs.

He presses one more kiss to his jawline, and then another to his mouth, deeper than before. He doesn't know how long this kiss goes on; it’s easy to get lost in, to focus on nothing but the taste of Arthur's lips and his heavy breathing against Jack's mouth.

Eventually, he gives Arthur a chance to breathe, nuzzling into the crook of his neck with more praise, “You're stunning."

@unclejackworthing

It was Arthur's fault for getting too comfortable. Jack was in the kitchen trying to figure something out while Arthur waited in the living room. Jack was only a room away. He got too comfortable.

When the knock on the door came, he nearly jumped out of his skin. He was in no state to entertain company. He was wearing someone else's pajamas and covered in bruises after his last encounter. But when he he hesitated too long, he heard a voice through the door:

"You'll want to cooperate, of course. It's a matter of your health." Arthur looked through the window and made direct eye contact with a doctor. Another one was behind him, difficult to mistake when they were dressed almost identically in the same odd fashion sense common among Wellington Wells' medical community.

Arthur's heart sunk, but he put on the best smile he could and opened the door. He tried to keep his body mostly behind it. "Gentlemen! Lovely day for it! Now what's all this about a medical emergency?"

"Yes, well, you'll forgive the intrusion, but my colleague and I happened to be wandering along when caught your scent through the window. It's ajar."

Arthur looked at it again. Indeed it was. Why did every little thing have to go wrong? The doctor pushed past Arthur into the living room, then turned to face him, so Arthur had a doctor on both sides.

"And, when we'd sniffed you out, then we couldn't help but notice that peculiar pungency telltale of one off their Joy." The doctor smiled, his creepy little mustache curving up at the edges. "So of course we both agreed it was our medical duty to come remedy the situation."

"Oh, dear!" It wasn't difficult to look horrified. It was harder to to look like he had nothing to hide. "Silly me! Has it been that long since I've popped a Joy? I'll take one straight away. I'm so thankful to you for warning me, Doctor." Arthur kept turning between the doctors, unsure which one to face. "And, uh, Doctor. Jolly decent of you."

"Yes, we'll administer a dose presently." The doctor leaned close, peering at Arthur with one fish eye. The one behind Arthur--he was getting them mixed up now--took a noisy sniff of Arthur's neck. "Are you certain you don't need more extreme medical intervention, sir? You do seem to be rather beat up."

"Oh, not at all! That's why I'm at home in my pajamas, you see. Silly me, I tripped down the stairs and the doctor put me on strict bed rest until I've healed up."

If only smiling hard enough would make them believe him. His cheeks were starting to hurt. "I've been going crazy here at home instead of at work. I'm sure the Joy will help with that." Arthur tried to step out from between the duo. "I'll just step away and go take care of that right now. I shouldn't waste another minute."

The doctor behind Arthur grabbed his upper arm and wrenched him back in place. "You'll forgive us for wanting to take you back to the office just to be sure. It is a matter of your health, after all. You can't be too careful."

"Oh, pish-posh!" said Arthur desperately. "I'm as healthy as a horse. Just some light bruising."

"I think that's for a qualified medical professional to to decide, don't you think?" The doctor in front of Arthur produced a rather large syringe as the one behind him held Arthur's arms. "But first there is the matter of your Joy. I think you'll be much more agreeable once the proper dosage is applied.

The doctor came in close and tilted Arthur's head up to expose his neck. He ran a finger along the vein he chose and then stabbed the needle into Arthur's skin, fully compressing the plunger and emptying the pink liquid into Arthur's bloodstream.

"Shit," said Arthur. His legs had suddenly stopped working correctly. He collapsed into the doctor's arms. Too much Joy.