fandomhighdorms | Dorm grounds: Sunday morning

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Dorm grounds: Sunday morning

Jack had woken early, sore but happy, and for some reason restless. Not wanting to disturb Sam, he got dressed and took himself outside for a walk.

It was cold, but the morning was bright and crisp, and Jack was lost in thought as he wandered through the grounds. He was mostly oblivious to his surroundings, paying only enough attention to keep himself from tripping over or running into anything.

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Which he'd half been expecting, seeing as he'd been deliberately pushing Kawalsky. But half-expecting wasn't enough time for him to do more than twist sideways, and deflect it enough to keep his jaw in one piece.

It hurt, and it pissed him off, and forgetting little things like having a hole in his shoulder and everything Sam had ever tried to teach him, he swung back, aiming for Kawalsky's gut.

Kawalsky tried to move, but he was still following through with the blow and didn't recover fast enough. The punch hit him square in the gut, causing him to double over at the impact. Winded, but not down for the count, he used his weight to charge Harkness and try to bring him to the ground.

In an ideal world, Jack would have neatly sidestepped the charge, and added insult to injury by kicking him as he went past.

This, however, was not an ideal world.

Jack went down, hard, and took most of his weight on his left shoulder. The one with the hole in it. "Frak," he hissed, going pale, but rallied, trying to strike up at Kawalsky's chin with his right hand.

The blow hit its mark and Kawalsky's head snapped back, causing him to fall back off Harkness. Skill was not involved here. Pent up anger and frustration ruled his judgment, much to his detriment.

He pushed himself up just enough to grab hold of Jack and try to punch him in the face again.

Jack had had just about enough, and he wasn't anywhere near as pissed off as Kawalsky seemed to be. As the punch hit home, narrowly missing his nose as he dragged his head to the side, that was starting to change.

He braced his hand on Kawalsky's shoulder, got his knees up, and heaved, trying to throw Kawalsky away from him.

The result of that particular action was Kawalsky being even more winded and hurting. He struggled to breathe, but picked himself back up anyway and kept his distance. "Get up," Kawalsky ordered. "Get up!" He might have been mad, but he wasn't about to hit a guy in a fair fight while the other guy was on the ground.

Breathing hard, aching everywhere, Jack rolled to his feet, watching Kawalsky warily. Gingerly touching his jaw, he winced and pulled his hand away.

"What the fuck is your problem, Kawalsky?" he ground out, doing nothing to close the distance between them, and more than a little to increase it.

"You!" Kawalsky barked. "You're my problem, Harkness. You have been since you were all over Elizabeth *right in front of me* when you KNEW we were together. Then you took Sam," he carried on, revealing a little too much than he normally would. "Wherever I go, there you are, cocky, strutting, thinking you've got the right to do whatever the hell you want to whoever the hell you want. That's not cool, man," he finished lamely.

"So what it boils down to is my existence offends you?" he asked, incredulous. "I've got Sam, and I don't deserve her? The ways someone like you would?" Yeah, he'd noticed the slip. He clenched his fists, nostrils flaring, truly angry in a way he hadn't been before.

"Suck it the hell up, Kawalsky, and deal. I don't even remember Liz, Sam picked me, and as for the rest--" He snorted and instantly regretted it, pain radiating from jaw to shoulder and back again. "You might not think it's cool, but plenty of people disagree. Go tell them they're wrong and leave me the hell alone."

As they faced off, Kawalsky was catching his breath, silent as if he was deciding how to reply. The reasonable side told him to back off. The side that loathed Jack for every rational and irrational reason (especially the irrational ones) made him want to punch that pretty face until it was unrecognizable. In the end, Kawalsky shrugged and answered. "No." He darted towards Harkness again.

This time, Jack was expecting it. This time, Jack was angry enough that adrenaline was blocking the pain nicely.

He danced out of the way, stumbling, but staying on his feet, and kept moving, circling away from him. There was no way he was letting Kawalsky get close again. "Will you calm the hell down?"

Kawalsky kept starting at Harkness, not attacking, but feigning attacks to keep him on guard. After each attempt, he calmed down a little more, stirring for the sake of it.

The longer this went on, the more he hurt, and Jack finally planted his feet, eyes narrowed, arms at his side. "Fine. You're so much better than me? So incredibly morally superior? Then hit me. I won't try and stop you. I'm already injured so it shouldn't be much of a challenge. And then you can feel so damn good about putting me in my place."

Kawalsky straightened. What the hell was he doing here, fighting a guy who had a gaping hole in his shoulder? Heck, not even fighting. This was just a scuffle. He looked Jack up and down, then shook his head and put his hands down. "Not like this."

Jack watched him for a long time, until he was sure Kawalsky wasn't going to try again. "We done?" he asked flatly.

Kawalsky shrugged. "For now."

"Whatever." Jack turned his back on him and started limping back to the dorms, one big ache that centred around his shoulder. Not that he was thinking about that. Or about Kawalsky. Sam was going to kill him.

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Dorm grounds: Sunday morning

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