A/N: It's apropos that just as my life has settled into a semblance of sense, this incarnation of Javid comes to its conclusion. Thanks, boys, for being there when I needed you.

David likes finding Jack at work in the garage, tuning up his motorcycle or the weed whacker while tunelessly singing along to the song on the radio or in his head. Jack's carefree, near-rhythmless dance steps as he hunts for tools and tackles his projects swell David's heart and smile.

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David likes to watch Jack listen. Every thought is reflected on Jack's expressive face -- from grinning delight to sober consideration -- as David recounts his day at work or his last conversation with his sister, and David reads the angle of Jack's chin, shape of his mouth, spark in his eye, arch of his brow as comfortably as his favorite novel.

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David likes rolling over in the early morning to see Jack, cheeks slack and lips open, asleep. He likes scooting gently closer to nestle their foreheads together and study the shadows at Jack's eyelashes in the pre-dawn light.

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And David likes to watch Jack’s legs come up around him, likes to see the flex of his thighs and abdomen and feel the firm weight of Jack around his waist as he thrusts slowly forward and glides back. But what David likes most of all -- what steals his breath and makes him shudder and come every time -- is the sight of Jack's unwavering trust laid bare before him.