Ultraviolet

Chapter 14

June 6, 33 AE

Mack wasn't entirely sure how he got back to his place. He definitely didn't remember leaving Elsie's, and he only vaguely recalled sitting shotgun in his own car while Jordan drove. The memory of climbing up the stairs from the parking lot to his apartment simply merged with the thousands of other times he traversed the same route, and while he felt like he recently hydrated, showered, and brushed his teeth, he didn't have any proof to show for it. The only thing he was certain of was the present.

And in the present, Mack stared at the digital clock propped besides his TV, entranced by the steadily blinking lights between the hours and minutes. In the distance, he could hear the water running in the bathroom as Jordan took a shower; Mack remembered promising he would be in bed by the time Jordan was done, but such a simple task seemed impossible now.

Saying Mack was exhausted was an understatement. He was completely drained, both physically and mentally, and there was nothing he could do about it. With the last remnants of adrenaline gone, Mack's entire body ached, especially his right shoulder, and thinking clearly was like trying to navigate a forest filled with a dense fog. Sure, a nap might help, but he couldn't picture himself falling asleep when his mind was still reeling about the night's events: the Barracks were destroyed, a group of meta-terrorists was lurking in the shadows, and he had to wake up in four hours for what was sure to be a hectic day of work.

This day was off to a terrible start.

Mack let out a frustrated groan as he slumped back on his couch, letting his body sink into the worn cushion. A part of him yearned to take the day off, not wanting to be reminded of the destruction at the Barracks and the imminent threat of a terrorist group that seemingly wanted them dead. But the rest of him needed to go to Base at that very moment, itching to do whatever he could to help everyone with everything. The two sides were at war within him, and neither of him was willing to let him simply rest.

"That doesn't look like a very comfortable way to sleep," Jordan's voice sounded from above him.

Mack raised his gaze from the blinking clock to see Jordan standing over him from behind the couch. His expression looked as if he was trying to pull off a stern expression, but was failing miserably with an outpouring show of sympathy.

"These cushions have had years to mold to my body," Mack mumbled groggily.

Thankfully, Jordan didn't scold Mack any further, and he sat down beside him with one leg folded onto the chair. Just as Mack was thinking about how Jordan's thigh looked like the perfect pillow, Jordan patted his lap in invitation, and Mack nearly collapsed onto it in relief, only slowing down when his shoulder throbbed with his movement.

For a while, they were silent, with Jordan gently running his fingers through Mack's hair and Mack focusing solely on the feeling of Jordan's touch against his scalp. With each brush of Jordan's hands, a hint of Mack's stress melted away and the tension slowly lifted from his body. Before long, he was nothing more than a limp pile of limbs splayed out on his couch.

"I'm glad you're here," Mack heard himself mutter into Jordan's leg.

Belatedly, Mack worried that his admission would make Jordan stop whatever his magic fingers were doing. Whenever their conversations went into emotional or intimate territory, Jordan would always hesitate, as if he had to mentally weigh the cost and benefits of proceeding. And while Mack was normally fine with Jordan being cautious, it usually put him a little on edge as well.

So Mack was surprised when Jordan didn't miss a beat.

"I'm glad you're here too," Jordan whispered. "Waiting for you was terrible. I mean, I know it probably is nothing compared to what you went through tonight--"