RS/Fight for you

[thegentlemanthug]

The feeling of conquering the world lasted about a week. For those seven days, Bennet Drake felt like he could do anything and that having Homer Jackson by his side and in his bed was the purpose of his existence. He had never been happier.

But it was tainted by the state of his rooms, his attire, the way Homer would casually lay down a bottle of liquor that Drake couldn't afford. The bed was too cramped for two grown men - too cramped for one, truth be told - and the lodgings in total were made for one. Drake knew Mrs Ramsey was freeing up the attic room, moving on the opium smokers who were behind in their rent, but he couldn't hope to match the cost from his Seageant's wage.

He couldn't admit to Homer that he'd lured him from Miss Susan's luxury to something less than a pauper's life. Homer Jackson wasn't made to be a bobby's wife any more than Miss Rose.

There was one way that he could make a little extra, maybe enough to meet Mrs Ramsey's attic rent, to buy a bigger bed and any little luxury Homer should desire.

So Drake went down to the docks, sniffing around for the scent of a bare-knuckle fight where he could try his luck. It's well past midnight before he staggers home, bruises and cuts dressed clumsily and pockets weighed down with shillings fresh-won from the fight.

Comments

[thegentlemanthug]

Drake is about to retaliate, to hit out at Jackson for his lack of gratitude, but then he realises that he's right - Drake has been treating him like his kept man, a pretty whore he needs to woo.

Jackson deserves better than that.

Drake sags back against the railings. "M'sorry."

[thirstforvice]

A lot of the anger seeps out of Jackson at that apology, so defeated, but he's not quite appeased. Not just yet.

"Now you've got a choice here, darlin'. And you think long and hard on it, 'cause there's no second chance. Either you start treating me like your equal partner, or I'll be returning my effects to Tenter Street."

[thegentlemanthug]

It's no choice at all.

Drake falls to his knees, clasping his battered hands together.

"Anything. Homer, I'll do anything."

[thirstforvice]

Jackson sighs, the last of his anger dissipating at the sight of his broken lover begging on his knees before him.

"No need to go that far," he says, helping Bennet back up onto his feet. "Just take my money, if you want the attic. Don't get yourself killed for it."

[thegentlemanthug]

The knees of his trousers are soaked through and Drake's not entirely sure how he gets his legs under him, but he's soon vaguely upright and leaning on his lover.

"You...you can afford that?"

[thirstforvice]

"I told you," Jackson repeats as he brings his arm back around Drake to help him stay upright, moving them onto the main road and starting to look for a cab to hail.

"If you want a house, I'll get us one. I have means, Bennet. 's what comes of not keeping all your eggs in Reid's basket."

[thegentlemanthug]

Drake shuffles along beside Jackson, trying to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

"A house? In the...suburbs?"

[thirstforvice]

"If that's what you want, Bennet," Jackson answers, spotting a carriage coming towards them and whistling for it to stop. Only once the horses have come to a stop, and Jackson has helped Drake into the back, does he continue to speak.

"If you want that life, you just have to say." He thinks he has enough for that, at least. He doesn't get a cut from Tenter Street's profits any more, which is problematic, but he has plenty saved and there's still a strong trade on the back streets for his pills and potions. A house he can manage.

[thegentlemanthug]

"In town," Drake says, rambling a little as he tries to sit down in a way that doesn't hurt his ribs. "I'm no good outside the city. Don't know my way."

[thirstforvice]

Jackson helps Drake to lie down on the bench, holding him against the worst of the jolts from the carriage on the cobbled ground.

"When you are well, we will find a house. I promise."

[thegentlemanthug]

Drake winces against Jackson's hideous trousers, gritting his teeth.

"Be fine tomorrow. Going on a rout with the Inspector."

[thirstforvice]

"I think not," Jackson responds stubbornly.

"You're black and blue and most likely broken too. I'll be examining you properly once we get home."

[thegentlemanthug]

"I will be there if I have to crawl." Drake is not going to suffer being treated like a china doll because of a few bruises. He's suffered far worse in Egypt and kept on fighting.

[thirstforvice]

"Remind me, darlin'..." Jackson cannot help but smile at Drake's stubbornness. Really, he hadn't expected anything less.

"Remind me just what it is I do for a living, then tell me again who knows best about what you should be up to come morning."

[thegentlemanthug]

"You're a carver of dead men," Drake says pointedly, refusing to acknowledge the truth of it. "Until I'm bound for my coffin, you'll let me be the judge of where I drag my broken bones."

[thirstforvice]

"Alright," Jackson concedes, knowing better than to argue when he knows he's right. The carriage is slowing, too, a sure sign that they are nearly home.

"We'll see how you're feeling come morning."

[thegentlemanthug]

"You ain't stopping me then neither."

Drake ignores the fact that he isn't as young as he used to be, and his recent ailments have left him more scarred and weary than before. He may not be able to pay his way in the world but he can still work at something that matters.

[thirstforvice]

"Of course not," Jackson decides to humour the other man, helping him up to his feet as they come to a stop.

"But for now, we're going to bed. It's been a long night."

[thegentlemanthug]

Even that short period of stillness has left Drake stiff and sore. He leans on Jackson more than he'd like, suddenly aware of the crawling stickiness of drying blood on the side of his head.

He hopes Mrs Ramsay has long gone to bed.

[thirstforvice]

Letting them in to the house, somehow getting Drake's weight up the rickety staircase, Jackson finally manages to get his lover down onto their bed.

"Rest now, Bennet," he tells him, sitting on the edge of the mattress and starting to gently strip him of his tattered, blood-soaked clothes.

[thegentlemanthug]

Drake is determined to get his clothes off himself, wincing only when the blood glues his clothing to his tender skin.

"M'fine, m'fine."

[thirstforvice]

"Sure thing," Jackson rolls his eyes, not letting Drake push him away.

"And I'm a Chinaman. Now keep still, would you?"

[thegentlemanthug]

Somehow, Jackson insinuates himself into all the places that even Drake's stubborn pride can't protect. Which is how he finds himself naked and shivering on their bed.

"Sorry."

[thirstforvice]

"No more of that, now," Jackson shakes his head, moving away to dampen a cloth at the wash basin, determined to clean Drake up as best he can before putting him to bed.

"We've had our fighting. No use repeating it."

[thegentlemanthug]

"I don't like fighting. Not with you."

Drake lets Jackson do his worst, biddable as a lamb as his lover tends to him.