I don't own four brothers.

He looks so innocent here, with his head resting on my chest, his hand clasped loosely around my own. I remember Green's words, he's trouble, I don't like that look in his eyes... Bobby had scoffed. He knows better than anyone else what Jack is and what he isn't. He knows what other sees, but he dosen't care about that, they don't know shit anyway.

What matters is how he makes him feel.

When he looks at him he feels needed. Jack needs him, and he loves it. He depends on him to take care of him, to get him out of messes, to love him no matter what, and he does. On nights like this the thoughts eventually come along with the fear. Fear that he won't be able to protect him forever, as much as he wants to. He'll do his best, and he can only hope it's enough. It has to be, he can't function any other way.

If anyone had told him a few years ago where he'd be now he would have laughed and then beat the shit out of them. Bobby Mercer, caring so much for another person, it would have been funny, if it wasn't so true. He pulls Jack closer to him, and he stares silently down at him. He needs him, because he's Jack, and he's everything he's not and could never hope to be. He's done so many unspeakable things, things that he regrets and things he's ashamed to think of, but when he looks at Jack his heart feels too big for his chest and he knows he can't be all that bad, because of him, because of how he makes him feel.

Bobby knows that the best part of him is the part that loves Jack.