What if Jack had a Polaroid camera and only took photos of Gabe trying to be grumpy (because he can’t help but smile when he sees the camera. Stop, Jack, he’s trying to brood)?

abakkus:

Click!

“What are you doing?”

“Remembering.”

“And you call me dramatic? Put that stupid thing down.” Gabriel reaches to grab the old relic of a camera out of Jack’s hands, but Jack bounds back just out of reach. Gabriel doesn’t feel like getting out of his chair, so he just glares.

Jack raises the lens again and instantly Gabriel’s brows raise and his lips quirk into a small, affectionate smile. It’s a reflex; he can’t help it. Always smile for the camera, Gabriel, his Abuela used to say. Always remember the good times.

Click!

Sigh.

“Jack, come on.”

Jack just grins as he shakes out the Polaroids and pins them to the fridge. “If you take it down, I’ll just take more,” he says. Jack leans down over Gabriel’s shoulder and kisses his scarred cheek. “Just let me have this. I lost all the old ones in the fire.” He places the camera on the kitchen table.

Gabriel grins and shakes his head and rolls his eyes, just a little bit. “Stupid sentimental farm boy,” he says, pushing his hand back into Jack’s white hair. He pulls him down further into an awkward not-quite-headlock. “I’m right here, you can look at me any time.”

Jack doesn’t say anything, so Gabriel fills the silence. “I’m not going anywhere this time.”

“Promise?”

“Yeah.”

Gabriel snatches the camera and turns the lens on both of them. The photo comes out tilted and out of focus, but he pins it to the fridge anyways. If he squints and the lighting is right, he can make out Jack’s obnoxiously perfect white smile. Maybe, just maybe, Gabriel thinks, he might get a camera too.