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Jay considers it a win as he sticks the landing without breaking an ankle. It wouldn’t have been the first time he had fallen off someone’s roof, where outcomes were never the same ending twice.
Usually, he was good at this slough life. Ever since he could walk, he was learning the trade of sneaking into rooms unseen. Sticky fingers coming into play when learning life was about survival above everything else. And a villain kid’s gotta eat.
But tonight had only been a challenge. A bit of fun between himself and a rival. Some exercise to keep the skills sharp and kill time.
Who could bag the most things from every house in the slums before getting caught.
Jay had it in the bag. He knew this. Being light on his feet and flexible, swinging into windows with ease as he had been doing his whole life, there was little competition.
Until his foot found a loose roof tile, sending him and several other parts of the roof sailing down to the ground with a loud crash. Lamps and lights flicker on throughout the neighborhood, heads peer out of windows to see the commotion. Only missing Jay rolling out of sight through the alleyway, leaving the clutter of his destruction behind in the street.
Catching his breath, he pulls his sack of goodies into his lap, waiting for the nosy villains to stick their noses back inside. He wasn’t caught. Not yet. The game was still on.
“Admitting defeat already?” A harsh voice whispers down the alleyway, bringing Jay's attention back around in the other direction. A looming presence of red emerges from the shadows, hook brandished.
Harry Hook, with his own sack flung over his shoulder, pierces through the darkness, approaching Jay. Cocky smirk visible, bastard thinking he somehow won, he can see it etched so clearly in dark lined eyes. Jay wishes he could punch it off.
Instead, he softens, blinking rapidly. “I’m sorry?”
Harry stops, dropping to a squat at Jay’s level.
“What, ya gone deaf now too, boy-o?” Fake pouting, he presses the curve of his hook beneath Jay’s chin. “It’s so cute when you think you’re better yet have clamshells for feet.”
Keeping up the charade, Jay shoves Harry away, clutching his vest as he scoots away.
“What the hell, man! Don’t touch me! Do I know you?”
Laughing, the pirate catches his balance, inching back in closer. Jay could smell the warm breath, practically seeing his reflection in the dazzling deep sea eyes.
“You weren’t complaining when I touched you last night.”
“I didn’t—I don’t know who you are, man, but leave me alone.”
Harry’s smirk falters.
“Are you serious right now, Jay? Are you yanking me?”
Almost breaking, the son of Jafar coughs, covering up the amusement bubbling just beneath the surface.
“Who is this…Jay?”
Harry leans back, leather squeaking under pressure. Darting eyes scanning for something, anything Jay presumes, to give away this was a stupid prank.
It was all too easy.
Usual hardened features soften as Harry leans back in, a gloved hand resting against Jay’s shoulder. They both make intense eye contact, and the prank is momentarily forgotten. At this moment it was just the two of them. One radiating a rare emotion still unknown and never taught, the other lost in his entertainment and his not-boyfriend’s intense staring mere inches apart.
“I’m Harry, yeah? And you’re Jay. We’re…well, I don’t know exactly what we are, but I’ve got you. We’ll get this sorted until that useless memory of yours comes back.”
Tipping his head like a dog, Jay teases the tip of his tongue over the bottom of his lip, voice dropping to a whisper. “My memory is far from useless, you moron.” And then he grins, sitting up straighter. “Have you always been this gullible?"
It was Harry’s turn to shove, sending Jay sprawling and rolling back out into the street with a bark of laughter. Hook pointed as the pirate advances in long strides, aimed to maim. But Jay jumps to his feet with ease, still laughing, finding a stray piece of pipe that had been holding a table up, blocking Harry’s advancement from causing any serious damage with a clang.
“You think you’re so clever, don’tcha, Jay?”
“A little bit, yeah.”
Harry sneers, spare hand grabbing for his sword while his hook is blocked.
Jay, sensing this, distracts the next best way he knows how: backing Harry against the nearest wall, harsh enough to knock the wind from his lungs, and captures his mouth in a kiss.
It’s dry, unyielding at first, but Jay presses on. Coaxing hunger with a swipe of his tongue, pinning the hooked hand above Harry’s head, pressing in chest-to-chest. Heat radiating between torn fabric and leather, pleading to be touched more. Now. Please.
Harry’s tongue eventually takes a swipe back, and Jay knows he’s won this argument. So much so he grins, breaking the kiss long enough to bring Harry’s other hand above his head too. Holding him there.
“You’re such a snake,” Harry says, breath caught, heated glare fighting with the arousal not so subtly pressing directly against Jay’s thigh.
“Wait until your Captain finds out you’ve charmed the snake with that tongue like an expert.”
“Oh shut up.”
Even while pinned, Harry leans forward to capture Jay’s lips with his own once more. Sacks of stolen goods forgotten for the time being.
