Reassured that his best friend wasn’t about to die, Matt gave Gabe one more squeeze to his shoulder before letting go and crossing his arms with a sigh of barely concealed relief. He was so ready for this night to be over, so ready, but the Resistance had other plans, apparently. Although the communications officer on the other end of the line had been vague about the details, Matt knew that if Camelot couldn’t get people here quickly to get him and Gabe out? Things were bad. Not that things were ever good, but still: tonight was especially bad. For everybody.
It was pure, dumb luck that got them to a safe house in the form of Jack’s apartment. If he and Gabe had crashed even five minutes earlier, a few miles farther away, they would’ve been sitting ducks at best and captured (or dead) at worst. He’d sounded disgruntled when he told the other guys it would be longer than he thought before they’d be extracted, but deep down, he knew he should be grateful they could be extracted at all – and he was. It’d just take a little longer for those much more reasonable feelings to catch up with him, now that the worst was over and the end of this godforsaken mission was finally in sight.
“Man, you’re not wrong.” Matt’s hand went to the back of his neck, where he was starting to feel a serious crick from the whiplash. Wasn't the first time he'd had this kind of minor injury, and he knew from experience it would feel a lot worse before it got better. He turned to Jack, who seemed to be biting his thumb now while he was looking back and forth between his guests. “You got any aspirin? And, uh, maybe a couch we can crash on buried somewhere around here?”
Jack’s hand fell to his side and, now that he had something to do, he straightened to his full height. Matt hadn’t seen Jack in a while, but more often than not he seemed to be hunched over, as if that would make him less imposing or something. He wasn’t the kind of tall guy who lorded over people, which – as a slightly shorter man, not that it mattered – Matt appreciated.
“Couch! Right! Hold on a sec, I’ll –” Jack abruptly turned around to face the mess that was his living room, hesitated for half a beat, then dived in. Matt thought he heard a soft “sorry, maze,” before he grabbed the cardboard absurdity by a corner and dragged it out of the way. Once that was done, Jack started dismantling a tower of furniture – side tables, barstools, a coffee table, that kind of stuff. Nothing too heavy, or Matt might have offered to help. As it was, watching Jack deconstruct the surprisingly impressive structure was a little too entertaining, so he stayed right where he was, eyebrow raised and a hand covering his smiling mouth.
Finally, a sectional revealed itself, complete with a corner by an armrest that clearly belonged to the dog, if the blanket and pillows covered in dog hair were anything to go by. Jack did a full-on magician’s voila! with his arms, and Matt shot a bemused glance at Gabe before shrugging and plopping down in the spot next to Lucky’s. The dog quickly followed, settling in next to Matt with his head on the man's leg without hesitating.
“Let me just go and grab the aspirin,” Jack said, pointing a thumb over his shoulder toward the hallway. “Make yourself comfortable, Gabe, okay?”
Then he was gone, and Matt whistled low under his breath as he gave Lucky a good scratch behind his ears. “Weird guy, am I right?” He half-shrugged, settling deeper into the couch until his head fully rested on the back of it so he didn’t need to keep it up anymore, and shut his eyes. God, he was tired. “Good guy, glad he’s on our team and all, but. Weird.”