Chapter Text
In the end, Eric doesn’t see Jack until Jack is almost upon him. He’s been hovering in the arrivals lobby at Hartsfield-Jackson for nearly three hours because he hadn’t been able to sleep the night before. After a few hours of pretending to sleep Eric had finally gotten up stupidly early, made himself a thermos of coffee, and driven into Atlanta because he couldn't stop worrying about being late.
Which meant, of course, that the rush hour traffic was particularly light on the Friday of a holiday weekend and he’d wound up at the airport nearly two hours ahead of when Jack’s flight was supposed to arrive. And then Jack’s flight from Logan had been delayed for almost an hour. So Eric’s finished a thermos of coffee and is halfway through a (really quite horribly pulled) venti iced caramel macchiato from the terminal Starbucks by the time the Boston flight registers as landed on the ARRIVALS monitors and he feels like he’s going to expire from the anticipation that will just not fucking end already.
He’s pulled his phone out to reassure himself, once again, that he had in fact texted Jack to let him know where to look for him when he hears “Hey. Bitty.” And there’s Jack pulling his carry-on with his shoulder bag slung over his shoulder looking scrubbed and awake and oh God so overwhelmingly there.
“Hi,” Eric says, blankly. “Hey! You made it!”
Like an idiot. Stating the obvious.
“Yeah, sorry about the delay,” Jack shrugs. “Something about a faulty light on the wing that needed --”
Eric suddenly, rather desperately, wishes he didn’t have a coffee in one hand and his phone in the other. So he pockets the phone and takes two steps to the left in order to drop his macchiato in the nearest trash bin -- he’s had more than enough caffeine already, anyway -- before closing the distance between himself and Jack. He reaches up to slide a hand around the back of Jack’s neck and pulls him down into a kiss.
In his head -- despite fantasies of flinging himself into Jack’s arms like Martine McCutcheon had leapt upon Hugh Grant in Love Actually -- Eric had meant to give Jack a rather chaste welcome-to-Georgia kiss. They’re standing in the middle of a busy airport, after all, and even if Jack’s said this is okay Eric is hyper-aware that kissing Jack in public is an undeniable statement about the nature of their relationship.
Which is, of course, precisely why Eric wants to do it. (Also because he’s been fantasizing about kissing Jack again since roughly three seconds after Jack let go of him on graduation day and disappeared back down the Haus stairs.) Eric wants everyone currently flooding past them on their way to the taxi stand and SkyTrain and the parking lot to understand that this beautiful man standing in front of him is Eric’s boyfriend and if that makes them fucking uncomfortable that is their problem not his.
But still. They're in public and Eric's aware that, gay or straight couple aside, there are expectations of propriety to be respected. Except, it seems Jack has a different concept of propriety. And really, really meant it when he said he had no objection to Eric kissing him in public. Because Jack leans full-body into the kiss with a deep hum of approval that Eric feels against his own palms. He lets go of his suitcase handle to slide both hands around Eric’s waist to the small of his back. And Eric, without making the decision intentionally, feels himself melt into Jack like there is no other time or place more appropriate for getting closer.
After that, things quickly become less than chaste. If still technically within the bounds of social propriety. They’re both fully clothed, after all, and Eric is only pressing rather firmly rather than shamelessly grinding himself against Jack where Jack has him pulled flush against the front of Jack’s jeans.
Their first private kisses had been tentative, if unequivocal. Jack’s damp and trembling hand had been gentle against Eric’s jaw and Eric -- one hand still holding his phone with its headphones dangling -- had been too stunned to do more than clutch disbelievingly at the polyester folds of Jack’s graduation robe and chase down the next kiss, and the next, and the next.
This, by contrast, is a startling moment of raw public intimacy. What had started out as a simple greeting quickly turns into something more complex as Jack smiles happily against Eric’s mouth and flicks out a tongue to trace the curve of Eric’s lower lip, pushing Eric’s mouth open until he has the fullness of Eric’s bottom lip between his own. He sucks, and nips, the pressure and pull engaging parts of Eric’s body that make him laugh against Jack’s mouth with the giddy pleasure of having Jack here and so patently wanting as much and as deeply as Eric himself.
Made bold by example, Eric mimics Jack’s mouth, pulling Jack’s lip between his teeth briefly and nipping down ever so slightly. Jack exhales a soft, startled rush of air and pulls back to check something in Eric’s expression -- then leans in again to press another kiss to Eric’s lips like he can’t bring himself to be any further away than this close.
Eric completely understand the sentiment.
“Well, hi there,” he whispers, feeling the happiness and rightness that is Jack Jack Jack right here right here right here in his arms singing through his over-caffeinated veins.
“Hi,” Jack whispers back, nosing against Eric’s cheek, pressing tiny, teasing kisses across his cheek to his ear and Oh, Eric shivers and turns his head to grant Jack better access, now isn’t that an interesting sensation ...
“Jack, we should --”
“Hey, Bits, it’s okay --” Jack pulls back again so he can focus on Eric’s face. “I meant it when I said --”
“Well, yeah,” Eric says, feeling his cheeks heat with a heady mixture of desire and self-consciousness, “I'm getting that but -- the things I want to do, we can’t really do in public, you know?” He pushes up onto his toes and presses one last kiss just because he can on Jack’s mouth, then reluctantly pulls his hands away from Jack’s neck, sliding his palms down over the front of Jack’s worn button down shirt.
His traitorous mind points out how easy it would be to unbutton those buttons one by one and -- well, yes. That. With a fingertip, he circles one of the buttons against Jack’s sternum and watches Jack swallow and lick his lips in response.
Eric feels a knot of anxiety he hadn’t been fully aware of carrying loosen and fall away. They’re really doing this. Jack really wants him. Touching Jack really is easier than constantly reminding himself that he's not allowed to touch.
He is allowed to touch, now. And here's Jack touching him back.
“Let’s, um -- do you have a checked bag?”
“Nope, just this,” Jack puts a hand back on the handle of his carry-on. “I travel light.”
“Okay, right, well -- I’m parked out in the garage, so just this way --” Eric points in the relevant direction and when he drops his hand again Jack catches it. He interlaces their fingers like it’s the most natural thing in the world, like they’ve been walking hand-in-hand across campus all year. And somehow that feels even more conspicuous than being wrapped in Jack’s arms.
He squeezes Jack’s hand and gets a squeeze in response.
As they cross the atrium Eric leans into Jack’s shoulder and murmurs, “I’m glad you’re here.”
Jack bends toward him and presses a kiss to Eric’s temple, “Me too, Bits. Me too.”
And they walk out into the wider world together.