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steppedoffaflight · 3 years

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Summer’s a Knife - Chapter 15

Catch up on Chapter 14 here

You’re kicking yourself for taking these last months for granted, for thinking that that was what it meant to miss a busy Van. Pining and pouting over a Van that you basically saw once a week? That wasn’t so exhausted from back-to-back shows that he made time to call, or at least respond to your texts? Who spent enough time in one place that you could actually go visit him on tour?

You’re missing your best friend like crazy.

Word count: ~3.3k

A/N: I can’t believe there’s only two chapters left after this! Thank you from the bottom of my heart to everyone who’s taken the time to read this, and endless thank you’s to everyone who has reached out with feedback ❤️

Chapter Fifteen September 2019

Fall in California doesn’t look the same as it does in Michigan, but you wish it did. Although you’re glad winters here only involve mild weeks in the fifties and sixties, you do miss the atmosphere of gray, rainy September days, leaves shriveling up and falling off of the trees, and changing out your wardrobe into something cozier. Sure, the pumpkin spice trend is still active, but pumpkin spice lattes don’t taste the same with eighty degree temperatures and the shining sun.

Maybe you’re homesick because you’re desperate for your surroundings to match your insides.

Van wasn’t kidding about the band’s workload this month. You’re kicking yourself for taking these last months for granted, for thinking that that was what it meant to miss a busy Van. Pining and pouting over a Van that you basically saw once a week? That wasn’t so exhausted from back-to-back shows that he made time to call, or at least respond to your texts? Who spent enough time in one place that you could actually go visit him on tour?

You had been so naive. So, so, fucking naive. And September was absolute torture to prove it. And it would feel much, much better to slog through this month on rainy sidewalks crusted with damp leaves, a crisp breeze trying to sneak through the seams of your coat.

But instead the world just spins on, leaving you behind. September is a new beginning for many people, who gladly chatter about it everywhere they go. UCLA students are starting to return to the area, bouncing around in their backpacks with iced coffees, and at work your co-workers are returning from their eventful summers refreshed and ready to end the year with a bang. There are back-to-school sales on everything, from spin classes to puppies in a petstore window, and the happier everyone is about the new season the more alone you feel.

Because that’s a great way to sum up how you feel, really: alone. It was the fucking worst. You’d never been someone who had a problem being alone! You’d purposely decided to live alone; you had practically skipped for joy down the sidewalks when you’d broken up with your last boyfriend. You had a nice friend group with the other girls at work, and of course you had Mary, so what else could an independent woman like you need? Certainly not a boyfriend or a girlfriend to make you feel fulfilled. Things wouldn’t even be different if Van was your boyfriend, you try to convince yourself. He’d still be busy. You’d still be rooted in L.A.. You’d still be just as depressed as you are right now.

You don’t believe that one bit.

Got that reservation, Van texts you one night after a rare phone call. You’d asked him to try and get Mary and Theo a table for their anniversary, and apparently he’d pulled through. You beam to yourself as he sends another text with the reservation information, and then decide to give Mary a call.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Is Mary’s greeting. “Has Van kidnapped you?”

You don’t have the heart to tell her it’s the opposite, actually. You’re so trapped in your lonely self-pity you don’t really have the energy or desire to socialize with others right now. In your heart right now, it’s Van or bust.

“Maybe,” You joke, although you feel like you don’t sound very convincing. “Speaking of Van, he might happen to have a reservation next week that he can’t make…” You grin as your voice trails off, “And maybe he accidentally made the reservation under your name?”

Mary audibly gasps down the line. “He got us a table?” She squeals, but you can hear she’s trying to hold back her excitement until she knows for sure.

“I might have called in a favor from him,” You laugh as you listen to Mary’s excitement at your confirmation.

“He is an absolute angel,” She gushes. “You need to marry him, like, now.”

You’re sure that this time your laugh definitely sounds hollow. You’ve never admitted your love for Van, even though Mary questions you about it regularly and never seems convinced with your denials. While you usually tell her everything, your feelings for Van have always felt like a giant bruise, something best not exposed. You don’t think you could stand the teasing, or Mary’s typical meddling. And right now, considering your heart is one oozing wound, you’re thankful for your own secret-keeping.

“I just wanted to let you know,” You start to wind down the conversation. Your phone has pinged with another text from Van, and you don’t want to waste this opportunity to catch up with him. “I’ll screenshot the reservation stuff and text you.”

“Tell Van I said thank you! We said thank you. Like, seriously. He’s amazing.”

You two say goodbye and you relay the message to Van over text, before responding to the message he’d just sent. Sam Fender’s album was out tomorrow, and there would be a huge bash at his Hollywood house the following weekend, which the band wouldn’t be in the States to attend. Van was clearly bummed about the whole thing, and you were too. You wonder if Sam and his friends remembered you from the party, or if you’ve faded from everyone’s memory. You wish there was a way for you to reach out to him and congratulate him.

Get your cheque yet? Van asks when the conversation about Sam has run its course.

Right. The insurance check. Yup, you respond, frowning to yourself in dismay. A whole $5,000. Yippee.

You couldn’t believe that’s all you’d received from the insurance debacle. You’d purchased the car for $12,000 from a dealer, worked your ass to pay it off over the years, and now the insurance company had awarded you less than half of the cost of the car to somehow give you the means to buy a new one. And it’d be almost impossible to find something in good shape for that price that was also an automatic, because you grew up in Michigan, where people were not obsessed with driving stick shifts.

Least you’ve got the rover.

Right. The Range Rover. The one scrap of Van you could cling to during this awful time.

The next time you have to pass that stupid petshop with their stupidly cute puppies in the window on your walk back to the office after lunch, you decide to send a pic to Van: Yes or no to me getting a puppy.

Which one?

Holy fuck, he responded in less than twelve hours. It’s your lucky day.

I’m thinking that little fuzzy gray one.

I’d be supremely jealous. He’s cute and I love dogs.

Van is a terrible influence. You’re ashamed to admit you stall in front of the window for longer than necessary, looking at the little gray puppy with the pointed ears bounce around in the playpen before forcing yourself to move along. A puppy would probably be good for you, honestly, but that’s not a decision you should make on impulse.

Miss you, says another text from Van. Then another: Might be in town on Tuesday? Fingers crossed the flights work out.

Unfortunately, they do not.

The flights do, however, work out for Thursday. That’s a fact you only discover after coming home from work and heading into your bedroom to change, only to trip over two rolling suitcases and realize there’s a Van-sized lump sleeping in your bed.

“What’re you doing?” Van mumbles, peeking his head out from under the blankets as you swear up a storm.

“What are you doing?” You shout, your toes throbbing. You’d accidentally kicked one of his rolling suitcases across the bedroom hardwood, and your toes were aching from the impact. On its way across the bedroom that suitcase had bumped the other, causing it to fall like a domino. “Why didn’t you tell me you were here?”

A slow grin spreads over Van’s face. “I wanted to surprise you!”

“By making my room an obstacle course?” You huff, lifting the fallen suitcase upright and rolling both of them out of the way into a corner.

Van’s sleepy state inhibits him from arguing, and he tucks his head back under the comforter.

“God, you scared the shit out of me,” You continue, your adrenaline still pumping from the fright and the pain. “I regret making you a key. I want it back.”

“Shut up,” Comes Van’s muffled voice.

“You shut up,” You bite back, but as the throbbing in your toes die down your irritation is replaced with the realization that this is reality, that Van is actually in your fucking bed at this moment. “I missed you,” You announce suddenly, your voice a lot softer.

Van peeks his head out again. His hair is a ruffled, oily mess as he beams at you. “I missed you more.”

“Bet you didn’t. Bet you forgot about me while you were doing cool band stuff.”

“Oh, did I? Wonder who I was texting Sam about, then.”

At this your jaw drops. “You did what?”

“I told him I was sorry I was leaving town tomorrow, and you said congratulations. And he asked how you were. Bond and him wanna do a celebratory pub night down in Newcastle.”

“No fair!” You pout, stomping your foot like a child. “You’re gonna celebrate without me?”

“Get your passport!” Van cries, throwing one of his arms up in exasperation before flopping back down on the bed. “Come with us!”

Getting your passport is a pain you’re reluctant to go through. You sigh. Maybe you’d try during the holidays back in Michigan, where the lines at the post office weren’t practically out the door everyday. Even if things with Van are over by then, Mary’s been trying to talk you into an overseas vacation for a while.

“You’re leaving tomorrow?” You decide to narrow in on that fact, pushing passport thoughts aside.

“Tomorrow night,” Van confirms. “Drop me off after work?”

“Of course.” If you only had him for these twenty-four hours, you were gonna milk every second you had.

Van is completely wiped from touring, and spends his entire time at your place in the same sweats. He gets out of bed the next morning to shower and have a cup of coffee with you, but other than that he’s glued to the mattress, getting some much-needed rest.

But even when he’s tired, Van is fun to be around. When you’re exhausted from work it means that your job has sapped every last bit of joy from you, leaving you without any desire to be creative, go out with friends, or try to be in a good mood. With Van, it’s like he would keep going if his body allowed him. He talks about tour fondly, still expresses excitement about starting on the new album, and still manages to pluck at your guitar from his nesting spot in bed. He’s the same Van; the only difference is the constant yawning and the way the lines around his eyes are more defined. Oh, and the lack of energy for any fooling around.

That last part doesn’t even cross your mind until you’re on your way home from the airport. You were so content just to have him around that you totally forgot how much you’d been using your vibrator lately.

But even with how content you were for that blissful twenty-four hours, as soon as you’ve stepped in the door to your empty house the aching in your heart returns. In your time apart all the little details about Van had gone fuzzy in your mind; his scent on your pillow, how it takes a cup of coffee in the morning for his voice to stop cracking. But remembering them makes everything sting with a vengeance, and you’re left feeling shittier than you have all month.

There’s been a nagging feeling creeping around the edges of your brain like a fog, and as much as you’ve been trying to deny it, it’s hard tonight. It’s just that everything with Van has started to hurt, and you’re not sure it’s ever going to go away. His schedule over the summer was flexible, but even after this intense bout of touring he’d be busy with recording. And then the band would be vigorously promoting and touring that album, and so on, forever, because Van would never stop making music, you were sure of that.

The tears well up in your eyes even thinking about not having him around. Despite your crushing adoration for him, he really is your best friend, and the idea of losing his friendship makes your heart clench in agony, the tears spilling over. But it’s not really a fair friendship when only one of you is crying about it, is it? Van doesn’t have to hurt like this, because his heart isn’t invested in you like yours is in him.

You allow yourself an indulgent self-pity cry as you make your bed, rumpled from Van’s napping, and climb in. You figure if you’re going to have a pity party for yourself you might as well do it right, and switch your pillow out for his so you can smell the smoke he leaves everywhere he goes. You know that as happy as you are when he’s around, there’s no way you can keep crying over someone when leaving is as much of their job as sending emails is to yours.

That’s why when Van pops in for another impromptu visit the following Tuesday, you’re not as happy to see him as you usually would be. It’s the same way that the idea of next morning’s hangover can ruin a night out, except with Van there’s no magical way to handicap your brain from thinking about the future.

The sex comes close, though. As soon as you two get to your place after picking him up he tosses his backpack aside before cornering you against the front door.

“I fucking missed you,” He practically growls in your ear, and holy fuck it’s been so long. You two rush for the bedroom, peeling off clothes as you go. Van is too impatient to worry about unbuttoning his shirt and simply peels it over his head, while you unclasp your own bra to avoid the delay. Before you know it you’re on your back, the blankets falling away from Van’s shoulders as he thrusts into you with all he’s got, your headboard banging against the wall so loudly you almost worry about damaging it. When you come it’s intensely satisfying, and you pull Van’s hair ridiculously hard to prove it. In retaliation he bites down on your shoulder as he comes, the same as he did the first time you ever slept with him.

The whole world feels right for that magical half hour, and then as you both lay on your backs trying to process what’s happened it all starts to shift again.

“When are you leaving, again?” You ask the ceiling, your voice stiff.

“Thursday morning,” He croaks. “Gotta get to Salt Lake City.”

You start to roll yourself up, heading for the bathroom. “Right.”

You feel Van’s body tense under the sheets next to you. “You alright?”

“Yup,” You tell him, emerging from the bed. You’re not convincing in the slightest, and Van can clearly tell. You don’t give him time to question you before leaving the bedroom.

“What’d I do?” You startle when you hear Van’s footsteps following behind you to the bathroom.

“Nothing.” You almost laugh at how ridiculous you sound.

Van hasn’t even bothered to throw boxers on, leaning in the bathroom doorway with his softening dick on display. He sighs. “Wanna step out for a smoke?”

You’re actually craving the fuck out of a cigarette, but you’d rather just go to bed and have this night be over with. Maybe tomorrow you’d be more able to enjoy Van’s presence, rather than pouting over how it’s rapidly coming to an end as soon as it began. “I’m fine,” You tell him. Your voice sounds less sharp and more resigned. It wasn’t his fault, after all.

Van shakes his head. He uses the toilet when you’re done, tosses on the sweatpants he had rolled in his backpack, and heads out onto the porch alone.

In his absence you scold yourself for acting like this. What the fuck were you doing? Ruining the two nights you had him, because of something that wasn’t anybody’s fault? You remake the bed, mentally giving yourself a stern talking to.

“You wanna talk about what’s wrong now?” Van’s voice makes you jump out of your skin.

“Nothing’s wrong,” You insist again, but your voice betrays you.

“Something is,” Van argues. “I’ve been watching you fluff that pillow for ages.”

At his words you realize your hands are still gripping the corner of your pillowcase, and you unclench your fists.

Van steps into the room, and to your mortification you feel your eyes heat up with warm tears.

“It’s been a long day,” You lie. It’s been a long fucking summer. “And I’m PMSing.”

Van frowns in sympathy, starting to climb back into bed. “Need a cuddle?”

A cuddle sounds like the equivalent of doing an entire round of shots by yourself when you’re already dreading the hangover.

“Yeah,” You sniff. “I do.”

On Thursday morning Van gets you up even earlier than your alarm clock, one of his hands nudging your thighs apart. You expect him to get on top of you once you’re more fully awake, yawning and wiggling around to get more comfortable, but instead you feel his calloused fingertip press against your entrance.

“Oh,” You sigh in surprise as he slips into you, searching out your good spots by touch alone. When he slips a second finger in, angling himself right, you clench down on instinct. “Yeah,” You breathe, blinking up at him sleepily. He’s watching your face intently, and if you were even slightly more awake you’d be horrifically self conscious. “You got it right.”

You can’t remember the last time you were fingered as the entree of the sex, rather than the appetizer. It’s appallingly intimate to have Van’s face so close to yours, breathing in any noises you make and watching every slight expression change in the darkness of your room. You’re also appalled at how you’ve been completely robbed of his talents; he can sense exactly where you’re throbbing for him, your clit twitching against the pad of his thumb when he applies pressure right where your body has been screaming for it. It barely takes any time with his thumb working in tiny circles and his fingers pressing into you hard before you’re gasping for air, drowning under the waves of your orgasm that feels like it’s radiating from both areas, whimpering Van’s name helplessly.

As soon as you’re flinching from his touch he pulls his hand away, his fingers slipping into his mouth so he can clean them off.

“Holy shit.” Your lungs are still desperate for air, but you haul him in for a sloppy kiss, paying no attention to the taste of yourself on his tongue. “I’m gonna miss you.”

Van lets out a deep, throaty laugh at that, but you’re already pushing him backwards so that he’s laying flat. You’re way too sensitive for sex, but you jerk him off and let him come on the soft skin on the inside of your thighs, as a treat.

After you drop him off at the airport, both of you looking slightly disheveled due to having to rush to get ready, you sigh to yourself in the empty car. You hated how weak you were when it came to him. One minute you’re convincing yourself you need to stop hanging around him, and the next you’re telling yourself there is absolutely no way you can give up the best sex you’ve ever had.

It was quite the conundrum.

#summer's a knife #catfish and the bottlemen fanfiction #van mccann #catb #catb fic #vanfic #van mccann fic #van mccann fanfiction #Catfish and the Bottlemen

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ineverlookavvay · 4 years

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donuts

Summary: Between s02e01 and s02e05, Michael and Liz bond over light bulbs and donuts.

Day 1 of Michael Guerin Week 2020 - Fic prompt: “You don’t have to stay”

read it on ao3 Michael watched Liz pull up in front of his trailer with a healthy amount of trepidation. He’d had a long night—a string of long nights, really—and Liz showing up unannounced was either good news or bad news. Michael wasn’t sure he could handle bad news.

“Hey,” she called, climbing out of the car and walking towards him. She was still wearing her waitressing uniform, which was another odd leaning towards bad sign—she’d obviously left in a hurry, in the middle of a shift, and Michael would take odds that meant something had happened. No one ever came driving up to him to tell him good news.

“Hey.” He stood up from the chair he’d been slouching in, dropping the papers he’d been looking at on the ground and slipping them under a bottle. “What’s up?” Michael forced his voice to sound light, like he wasn’t anticipating her dropping some doom and gloom all over his day.

“I need a favor.”

Michael squinted at her against the sun and tried to steel himself for whatever it was. “What favor?”

“Oh, no it’s nothing bad,” she said quickly, stepping closer to him. He could see now that she wasn’t frowning, didn’t seem afraid or panicked or upset—if anything, she just looked a little anxious, but not to any degree that would worry him. Michael knew how it felt to be as smart as Liz was, and a little anxiety was basically a constant personality trait. She took a deep breath. “Or at least not worse than a few exploded light bulbs...”

Michael nodded.

“Well, every light bulb in the house, actually.” She frowned. “It’s getting kind of expensive.”

“So what do you want me to do about it? I’m not an electrician.”

“No,” Liz said carefully. “But I thought maybe you could make some kind of alien-proof light bulb? It would help me—us—a lot.”

"Right." Michael wasn't entirely inclined to spend his free time working on something odd and trivial like that, but at the same time, Liz was giving him hopeful puppy dog eyes, and he could use something light to spend time with, instead of the normal life-or-death stuff. Everything with Max was hard, things with Isobel were hard, with Maria, with Alex, everyone, and Liz was giving him something easy. Michael needed something easy. Not that he was going to admit that. "I can try, if it’ll help that much,” he said nonchalantly, "but I can't promise anything."

Liz beamed like he'd promised anyway. "Thanks, I owe you."

"Yeah, you do," Michael replied, just to see her "yeah, right" expression, because that felt more normal than the pained way they'd both been looking at each other recently. Michael needed some normal, too.

“Come by the Crashdown when you have something?" Liz called as she swept back towards the car.

Michael nodded. He scooped up the papers he'd been working through and carried them down with him into the depths of his workshop. He'd been slowly making his way through the plans he had, slowly figuring things out, but it was painful and Michael was almost glad to have a reason to put it aside for a bit.

Reverse engineering a light bulb to make one that Rosa couldn’t explode was a challenge, and he sat down to wrap his mind around it with something close to excitement. Maybe he could use the alien biotech he'd collected. The material wanted to be together, he knew that, and that might translate to some resistance to exploding at the smallest surge of energy. Also, it would look pretty damn cool.

He carefully unscrewed a light bulb from one of the lamps above his table to take apart. This was the way Michael liked to work—with a visible end goal, with ideas and plans that actually made sense, that didn't put anyone in danger, that didn't make his chest seize up at the choices he'd have to make if he actually finished. He could visualize the steps of testing, the intricacies of it, before he even touched anything, and that was satisfying, in a deep buried way that felt like himself.

The actual work was somewhat more complicated than the idea, and he went through all the light bulbs he had except one before he realized he'd never get anything done completely in the dark, and had to swing by a hardware store. There was something about exploding light bulbs. almost intentionally, that made him feel young, like when they were first trying to figure out their powers, and that feeling came with the expected pain but also a surprising stream of nostalgia. Michael would never want to go back to the time before he was an adult, before he could take care of himself instead of looking in fear at the people who were supposed to do that for him, but it was kind of fun to make the bulbs pop without any fear of repercussions, the same way it had been fun to move things with his mind before he knew doing it would make adults angry.

By the time he figured it out, it was late afternoon a few days later. He'd ended up with normal light bulbs that were adapted, re-engineered until they wouldn't break, or at the very least, they would knit themselves back together. It was a little cheesy looking, like tiny lava lamps, but it was effective. He was pretty sure Liz would hate it, but hey, that was her own fault for asking him.

Packing all of the adapted light bulbs into a little cardboard box, Michael drove to the Crashdown, relieved that Liz had wanted him to meet her here instead of at Max’s house, and aware that she’d probably done that on purpose.

Michael pushed the door of the diner open with his elbow, holding the box and scanning the place for Liz. He didn’t see her, which wasn’t a great sign, since he was holding a box of really weird looking light bulbs.

Arturo nodded at him as he stood there trying to figure out the best next plan. “Looking for Liz?”

“Yeah. She here?”

He pointed at a set of stairs going up to the apartment above the diner and beckoned Michael up to the counter. The place wasn’t too busy, the dinner rush past and the late night rush not yet started, but Arturo still leaned forward, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Up there, keep going until you hit the roof. She thinks I still don’t know she goes up there, but,” he shrugged, “I know everything.”

Michael grinned and nodded thanks, heading up the stairs. At the top of two flights, he pushed open the door and stepped out onto the roof of the Crashdown, juggling the box he was holding between his hands as he looked around. He stepped around the sign and saw Liz sitting there, holding a bottle, with a white paper bag sitting next to her.

“Hey,” he said appraisingly. He sort of hated Liz for being able to look put together when he knew she was as much of a mess as he was. It hurt more for not being either of their fault, but sort of being both of their fault; it hurt more that there was nothing to do but wait, when both of them would rather keep their hands busy.

“Hey.” Liz put down the bottle and considered him, like she was coming out of a daydream. “How’d you find me?”

“You dad told me.” Michael tried to smile. “Not your best hiding place.”

Liz shrugged and took another sip from her bottle. “Rosa and I used to come up here, so… blame her.”

“Yeah, speaking of.” Michael held out the box to her and Liz took it tentatively, raising her eyebrow in a question. “They’re prototypes, so we’ll have to piss her off and test it, I guess.”

Liz laughed, harsh and short, like he’d surprised it out of her. She put the box down by her feet. “She’s at the house, I think. I hope. We can test it tonight. I’m good at pissing her off.” She paused for another drink, peering inside the box. “You’ll have to tell me how you did it.”

“Tell me it works first.” Michael shifted uncomfortably on his feet. He’d done what he came here to do, delivered the box, and he really had no business staying here. But leaving Liz and her dwindling bottle of tequila on top of a roof felt like a bad idea. He looked at the empty space next to Liz, considering asking if he could sit.

“You wanna sit?” Liz said, apparently reading his mind. “You look like you could use a drink. And,” she pulled open the paper bag, “I have the unsold donuts.”

“Well, if you’ve got semi-stale donuts…” Michael walked over and sat tentatively next to her, taking a donut from the bag when she held it open for him. He didn’t really want it, didn’t really even like sweets that much, but it felt meaningful. Like, a breaking bread together to seal a pact kind of donut. Like a friendship donut.

It was really stale, though. Michael gladly took the offered bottle to wash down the crumbs that stuck in his throat.

“Do you ever think about what you would have done differently?” Liz asked, staring out at the sky, looking melancholy. “If we’d all known the truth about…everything?”

Michael laughed humorlessly, a soft huff of breath. He thought about that constantly. What could have been different if they’d known about Rosa, about Noah, about Isobel, about the Manes, about Caulfield. He thought about all the choices he’d change, if he had any idea of their consequences, any idea of what truths led to the choosing; and he thought about all the choices he wouldn’t change, all the things he’d do exactly the same, to his own detriment, no matter what he started off knowing. And none of it mattered, but that’s just who he was, still staring at the past, no matter how much he wanted something different in the future. He just couldn’t stop looking behind him, counting the footprints.

“Constantly.”

Liz hummed in response. “Yeah. You know, Guerin, for two very smart people, we are not that smart.”

Michael laughed for real this time, taking another pull from the bottle. “Tell me about it.”

They fell into a companionable, if slightly awkward silence, both of them trapped in memories they couldn’t talk about, not yet, maybe not ever. Michael nodded at nothing, kicking his feet. He could feel Liz’s eyes start tracing him, taking in his expression, his moving feet, the way the silence hung around them.

“You don’t have to stay,” she said abruptly. “I mean, I appreciate the company, but…I’ll be okay.”

Michael frowned. “I can leave if you want me to.”

“No, I didn’t mean that. But I’m sure you have better things to do than sit here with me.”

Michael scoffed. His plans for the evening were the same as every evening had been since Noah had died. Get drunk, cause trouble, hurt the people who wanted to hold him close. He didn’t want to hurt Liz, though; she didn’t want to hold him, or change him, or anything—she was drowning in the same water as him, and there was solace in the sinking company. He realized he didn’t want to leave. Or at least, he didn’t want to leave as much as he wanted to stay. “Yeah, my regular barstool’s really missing my ass right now.”

Liz squinted at him. “You have a regular barstool?”

“You hide out on the roof of your restaurant with stale donuts?”

Liz nodded. “Touché.” She grabbed the bottle back from him. “You know what the worst part is?”

“What’s the worst part?” he asked obediently, even though he had some ideas of his own.

“The waiting.” Liz pressed her hands together, exaggeratedly twiddling her thumbs. “People like us, we have to keep moving, keep working, or it all just…catches up.”

Michael didn’t have to ask what she meant. It was exactly how he lived his entire life. Keep moving, keep working, even if the movement wasn’t linear, and don’t stop, not for anyone—stopping meant thinking, meant looking too closely, feeling too strongly, it meant leaving time to take in the things that threatened to break him, that he could only avoid by not looking directly at them. Happiness kept moving in front of him, happiness and contentment, like rabbits pulled on a string around a track; he wanted them, he wanted to be happy, to be satisfied, so so badly, but he knew he’d never catch them if he stopped running. He wouldn’t wish that life on anyone.

“So keep working, keep distracted.” He offered it like it was easy, like he wasn’t constantly, every day, warring with himself because if he let himself change goals, if he let himself really know that he was working towards something new now, it meant admitting that things really were the way they were, and that he couldn’t do anything to fix it. Michael was a verified genius who could move shit with his mind, but he couldn’t do anything useful, he could only break things.

“Or drink,” Liz amended, and Michael had to admit, that often did seem like the best choice.

They lapsed into silence again, but it was less awkward now that they’d felt out each other’s sense of duty versus actually wanting to be sitting there together. It was kind of nice. There was no pressure to be or do or say anything, both of them sitting with their small victory, content to be distracted from the larger issue for a moment—until it came careening back into view to throw any comfort off again.

“You want another donut?” Liz asked, pulling one out for herself and then offering the bag to him.

Michael looked from the bag down to the half eaten donut in his hand, a laugh bursting from his mouth unexpectedly. He hadn’t been laughing a lot recently, at least not genuinely. She waggled the bag. He realized it wasn’t about wanting another donut, or even about whether or not he actually ate them or just stockpiled them next to him, it was just about sharing something, about being able to give each other some small moment that felt good, or at least that felt okay. There was comfort in a box of light bulbs, there was comfort in a donut.

Michael nodded and took another donut from the bag, taking a bite just to prove he appreciated it.

“It’ll be okay,” Liz said, and it sounded like she was trying to convince both of them, it sounded like a question.

“Yeah,” Michael replied, infusing his voice with nonchalance, and taking another crumbly bite of donut. “You’re a great scientist, and Valenti is a good doctor, and I’m—” He trailed off. Just trying to hold it all together.

“You’re a good friend,” Liz replied, and Michael wondered if he had underestimated the level of her drunkenness. Up close, she was less put together than he’d thought—she looked tired, mostly, her eyes red-rimmed and her smile failing to reach them.

“And you’re a little bit drunk,” Michael replied, trying to diffuse the earnestness of the moment. He couldn’t really do earnest right now, it was too close to honest, and that was too close to sad. “Need a ride back there?”

Liz nodded, smiling a little more genuinely, and stood up, wobbling just a bit. Enough that Michael took the box for her, not eager to test the quality of his light bulbs by dropping all of them accidentally off a roof.

Climbing into Michael’s truck took a bit of an effort. Liz flipped on the radio when he started driving, swiveling the knob until it moved away from his normal station and landed on one playing 90s music that she, somewhat implausibly, remembered every single word to despite how drunk she was. Michael knew the song but not that well, and he smiled as he drove, as Liz swayed and sang and nudged him to do the chorus with her.

Michael pulled up the truck in front of Max’s house, and took a deep breath. He had tried not to come by here, because it hurt too much, and because he was an expert at running away from problems he couldn’t readily fix. Liz followed his gaze to the house, looking wistful. Michael couldn’t imagine living there, now.

Liz opened the passenger door, looking a lot more stable, and Michael wasn’t surprised—being here was sobering. She held out the donut bag, still containing a few remaining semi-stale donuts. “Donut for the road?”

Michael gave her an amused look.

“You know,” Liz said, dragging the light bulb box onto her lap, “when we were in high school, people would kill for one of the leftover donuts. But,” she paused for emphasis, and Michael smiled in spite of himself, “only my friends actually got one.” She waggled the bag at him. “Want another donut, Michael?”

Michael sighed, ducking his head away from her, and then back after he’d taken a breath. It was…surprisingly nice, actually. The explicit acknowledgement that they were friends, that he could be part of something, even if he couldn’t have when they were in high school. He didn’t want to think about any of that too hard, because it was just a stupid donut, but there was something there that made Michael feel a little less like he had to hold everything together completely on his own.

“Fine, gimme a donut,” he said, grumbling so that he wouldn’t do something ridiculous like affirm how much the whole donut thing actually meant.

“Good,” Liz said, like that settled something, and she slid out of the truck, gripping the box and the bag and the bottle tightly. “Thanks for the ride.”

Michael took a bite of the dry, too sweet donut. He thought about this, sometimes, how his life might have been if everything was different—if he’d been adopted, if he’d been less bitter and protective of himself, if he and Alex had found each other sooner and hadn’t been so afraid—if he’d have had a group of humans, a group of friends, that actually wanted him there, instead of just feeling bound to him. It didn’t matter, because it wasn’t true, but he still thought about it, and wondered if he somehow had stumbled into that now, when he was old enough to know better, to do without it and yet, still secretly, desperately wanted it.

Liz waved from the door and Michael reversed the truck away from the house, the small pile of donuts sitting on the seat next to him like a monument to something.

#mgweek20 #guerinweek20 #roswell new mexico #rnm fic #michael guerin #liz ortecho #because they deserve 3k words of friendship #my writing #hi i'm new here and i'm vaguely terrified

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angelliev · 4 years

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Lover Boy - JJ Maybank x OC - Part Fourteen - Spilled Tea

Word Count: 3.3K

Summary: Aria wakes up in the hospital to be greeted with drama. Secrets are spilled within the room.

Warnings: Hospitals, cursing, crying, Claude being a jerk and much more.

A/N: Here’s the piping hot tea. Hehe. (Not my GIF. I don’t own any of the characters or the show.)

Lover Boy Series Masterlist

The blinding white lights of the hospital attack my eyes that attempted to flutter open. I scan my surroundings when my eyes finally adjust. I could hear the heavy rain pattering on the windows. Outside is all gloomy and wet. I sit there confused as I try to remember what happened. I then notice someone slouched next to me. I immediately recognize the mop of blonde hair and light snores. I lightly shake his shoulder, causing him to snap his head up. His eyes light up when he sees my awaken form. “Aria! You’re awake! You scared the shit outta me.” He hugged me tightly and littered my face in kisses. “Sorry about that lover boy. Speaking of, what the hell happened?” I asked out of curiosity.

“You passed out on the boat and cracked your head open. Don’t worry, your mom said you’ll be okay.” He reassured me. It all starts to come back to me. “She must be freaking out. Does she know what caused me to faint?” I can already see my mother asking me a billion questions. “Not yet. They’re still trying to figure that part out.” He nods his head. “How long was I out?” I asked. “Since you passed out yesterday. They had to put you under anesthesia while stitching you up, so that kept you out till this morning. I stayed here all night waiting for you to wake up.” He rubs my hand. This made my heart flutter.

“They let you stay past visiting hours?” I asked surprised. “Your mom may have snuck me in.” He smirked. Why does that not surprise me? “I called your sister by the way.” He said, making my eyes widen. “What did she say?” I pushed for an answer. “She booked a flight out here as soon as I told her. She’s getting here as fast as she can.” "Thanks JJ. It’ll be nice to see her again. I just don’t know how my parents will react to seeing her pregnant.” I say nervously. Her due date is in June and its already April. She’s definitely showing.

“They still don’t know?” He asked incredulously. “No, she wanted to be the one to tell them.” “Well they’re definitely gonna know now.” I say. I felt guilty not telling my mom or brother about the pregnancy, but it’s not my story to tell. I still don’t know what the gender of the baby is. I’m really excited to be an aunt though.

The door to the room opens, revealing my mom, who smiles at my state. “Sweetheart! You scared me! How are you feeling?” She hugs me tight. “I’m okay mom really. Just a little tired and sore.” I try to calm her down. “It’s about time for you to take your prescription. I ‘m just glad you’re okay. You’re lucky to have such amazing friends and a stubborn boyfriend.” My mom teases JJ, causing him to blush. “He refused to leave your side. I had to sneak him in so he’d stop freaking out.” I giggle watching the two smile.

“Speaking of my friends, are they here?” I asked wanting to see them. “They were until visiting hours were over. They were sent home, much to their dismay. Your father should be here soon as well. He was at a business meeting in Philadelphia.” Great. Just the person I wanted to see. “What about Damian? Where’s he?” “He went home after visiting hours. I’ll give him a call and tell him you’re awake. Make sure to call your friends, they were pretty worried about you.” My mom suggested about to leave the room before turning to us.

“JJ, I never got to thank you for what you did. Not just for yesterday, but also for defending her against Rafe. I really appreciate you standing up for my daughter. It means a lot to me love.” She thanks him sincerely. “It’s no problem, really. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.” His words make both of us smile. “I know you would. Thank you. I’ll be back in just a moment. Call your friends.” She leaves the two of us alone. “Now if only my dad loved you as much as my mom.” I say. “Tell me about it. He always looks like he’s ready to bury me whenever he sees me.” JJ agrees as he calls JB. “Hey man. Get down here. Aria woke up. Yeah, she’s alright. See ya later man. Bye.” He hangs up before turning his attention back to me.

“You sure you’re okay babe?” He asked once more with puppy eyes. “I’m fine really, thanks to you guys. My heroes.” I peck his lips. “Next time, if you’re feeling off, just tell me and we’ll stay home.” “Yes mom.” I tease, earning a kiss from him. The two of us just sat there scrolling through channels. Soon, the Pogues start pouring in, questioning my being and covering me in hugs. Kie, Charis and Sarah held flowers and teddy bears. My brother followed in not too long after. It just occurred to me that this was the first time he had met JJ and the Pogues.

“I want to thank you guys for what you did. Which one of you is JJ?” My brother asked. Oh boy. “That would be me.” My brother turn to the blonde, before walking up to him and holding his hand, which JJ gladly shakes. “Thanks for kicking Rafe’s ass when I wasn’t there. I appreciate you looking out for my little sister.” The two share a smile. “The pleasure’s all mine.” Looks like those two will get along just fine.

“Aria?” A familiar voice had made everyone’s head turn. There stood Jennifer, with her impressive baby bump. My eyes lit up to see her. Everyone’s eyes nearly flew out of their sockets when they saw my very pregnant sister standing there, before she waddled over to hug me. Collectively, except JJ and I, everyone had said, “What. The. Fuck???” Not holding back. “I came as soon as JJ called.” Everyone looked over at the guilty blonde with shock written all over their faces.

“Hold up. You knew two knew she was pregnant?!” Damian asked the two of us. Jennifer turned to Damian. “Surprise?” She said nervously. The awkward silence in the room had lingered for a moment, until Kie broke the silence. “Well, I don’t know about you guys, but I think we should grab some lunch and let these guys talk this out.” The Pogues, all agree and begin to leave the room, well except for Charis. “But this is some piping hot tea! I wanna hear!” The girls drag her out of the room. My mom enters not too long after.

The look of shock was written all over her face, when not only did she see Jennifer, but her gigantic baby bump. My mom and brother began questioning her. “You’re pregnant? Where have you been? Why haven’t you called?” The two asked frantically. “I’ll explain everything. I just need you guys to calm down.” She says. “What in the actual fuck?!” There in the doorway stood my father. “It’s about to go down” - Kevin Hart

“What the fuck is that?!” He points to her blown stomach. “It’s a baby bump you fucking idiot!” Jennifer snaps at him, surprising all of his. Looks like she’s had enough of his shit. “More like a slut bump!” His hateful words anger everyone. “Watch your language! This is our daughter you’re speaking to!” My mom scolds him. “You have some explaining to do! What the hell is going on?” My father yelled. “Stop yelling at her!” Damian stepped in. God, I wish I was high for this conversation. “Everyone calm down! Let her talk!” My voice breaks the chaos. “Thank you.” Says Jennifer.

It took everything in my father to sit down and let my sister explain everything. The pregnancy, moving to Boston, Andrew Coleman, who is now her fiancé. Everyone just listened as they tried to process what was going on. My dad stood up as he paced around the room. “So, you’re telling me, that you moved to Boston, pregnant with this man’s kid and now you’re marrying him?!” Claude asked astonished. “Yes.” “Why?!” His eyes were filled with anger. “Because of you and Rafe! You two were the ones who had pushed me away. Not mom, not Damian, and not Aria! You! And that’s not even the worst part! I learned that you were trying to set Rafe up with Aria! Are you fucking kidding me? You think that just because I left, means you could push you next daughter to marry him? You’re fucked in the head you know that?” Jennifer yelled angrily.

“Everything was fine, until you little pricks screwed it up! Now your mother is pressing charges against Rafe!” My father looked like he was about to pop a vein pointing at us. “I’m sorry I’m pressing charges, because he assaulted our daughter who you clearly don’t care about!” My mom shouted. “Don’t care about? Woman I left the middle of my meeting to fly out here! Don’t tell me I don’t care about her!” He talked back to my mother. “Oh really? Cause the first you did when you walked in here, was yell at Jennifer. You didn’t even ask if Aria was okay! She just cracked her bloody head open!” “She’s alive is she not?!” Fucking dad of the year right here. “Gee thanks dad. Really appreciate your concern.” I said sarcastically.

Someone knocks on the door. Housekeeping. JJ pokes his head in to see all of us staring at him. “I take it this is a bad time.” You think?! My dad’s face begins to sweat out of frustration. “What the hell is he doing here?!” He points. “Don’t be rude! He and his friends were the ones who brought here to the hospital!” My mom defended him. “What does he want? A fucking cookie?!” Jesus Christ shoot me know. Can this get any worse? A nurse peeks her head into the room.

“Dr. Prescott, you might want to take a look at this.” The woman looks between all of us. Elaine steps out with a sigh. My dad paces around the room frustrated before speaking to JJ. “This is all your fault. You know that? Aria was perfect, then you showed up and corrupted her.” Before any of us could say anything. “She’s already perfect! Always has and always will be! I know you think I’m not good enough for your daughter. I may not have fancy yachts or mansions. I may come from a shitty home life. But sir, I love your daughter with every bone in my body. I’ll do anything to make her happy. I may be young and stupid, but damn it loving her was the best decision I’ve ever made, and I’ll never stop loving her. Her name is forever inked on my body just to prove that!” JJ shouted before revealing the tattoo of my name. That’s my man. “Kill me now.” My father mutters.

The door creaks open slowly. My mom’s eyes fall on me. She looks like she had seen a ghost. This makes me scared to the core. “Mom? What’s wrong?” I asked cautiously. She doesn’t answer. “Everyone, please remove yourselves from this room.” My mom requested calmly. “Like hell,” My dad doesn’t get to finish his sentence, before my mom snaps. “Damn it Claude! This is between me and Aria! If you don’t leave, I’ll have security show you the door!” Mama’s mad - JJ. Everyone leaves the two of us alone, the door shuts on the way. “Mom, you’re scaring me. What’s this about? Please don’t tell me I have cancer.” I begin to panic. “No, it’s nothing like that.” She calms me down. “Then what is it?” I asked confused. My mom just sits there for a moment, hesitating to answer.

“We tested your blood and samples. Traces of the hCG hormone came back positive.” She explained as I sat there dumbfounded, not understanding. “What does that mean?” I asked confused. She just looks at me with sympathetic eyes. “Aria, you’re pregnant.” Her words made me freeze completely. My blood ran cold and my eyes watered. A thousand thoughts began to run through my head. This can’t be true. I must be dreaming. I’ll be waking up in a few minutes!

“We estimated that you are about three weeks pregnant.” I ran my shaky hands through my hair. “Mom, what am I going to do? What am I going to tell JJ?” I asked frantically. “We’ll figure this out sweetheart. I’ll be by your side the whole way.” She held my hand. “Can you send JJ in please? I want to see him.” I cried. She simply nodded her head before inviting him in. He rushed to my side immediately.

“Babe what’s wrong?” He asked concerned, wiping away my tears. “If I tell you, you’ll hate me.” I sob. He looks hurt by my words. He takes my face in his hands. “Baby, look at me. I could never hate you okay? I love you too much to hate you. Whatever it is, you and I will get through it together. I’m not going anywhere I promise.” He kisses my forehead. “Now, what’s the matter?” He asked. I couldn’t find the courage to find words, with my tongue tied and the lump in my throat.

“JJ, I’m pregnant.” I whisper, more tears stream down my face. The silence in the room made the situation even scarier. His eyes bulge and his hands run through his hair. “JJ please say something. You’re scaring me.” I plead. He huffs. “I’m sorry. I’m still trying to process this. We’re having a baby? Like for reals?” He asked nervously. “What else would we be having?!” My heart beats fast. “I’m sorry! I’m scared too okay. I don’t want to grow up to be like him okay!” Tears began too well in his eyes, as his insecurities poured in. His father’s words coming back to him. “I can barely give you anything! How am I supposed to give our baby anything?” He stressed. “You are nothing like your father. You’ve given me so much love and care, I know you’ll do the same for this baby. We’ll raise this baby together. You’ll be a great dad. I know it.” I hold his head in my lap.

“What are we supposed to do about housing, groceries, diapers and everything else?” He asked already worried. “You let me worry about the financial situation.” My mother steps in. “We can’t ask you to do that Mrs. Prescott.” Says JJ. “I want to. I don’t want the parents of my grand baby to be starving or homeless.” She looked at the two of us with nothing but love.

“What are we going to tell dad?” I asked nervously. She just sighs. “I don’t know. It’s honestly up to you. I didn’t think you were going to tell him. Can’t say I blame you.” My mom looked at him sympathetically.

“Tell me what?” My father’s voice interrupted us, Jennifer and Damian walk in. For a moment we all just stood there not knowing what to say. “Dad, you might want to sit down for this one.” I warn him. “Oh, for the love god, out with it!” He demands. “I’m pregnant!” I decide to let it out. What I wasn’t expecting was for him to bust out laughing. He kept laughing until he realized no one else was. “You’re serious?! Are you fucking kidding me?!” He kicks a chair making me jump. “Claude! Calm down!” My mom yells.

“How do you expect me to be calm when both of my daughters are knocked up? One’s pregnant with a man we never met, while the other is pregnant with a pogue’s kid! This is a monstrosity! We can’t allow this!” He declares, making our brows furrow. “What are you talking about?” Asked mom. “She’s getting an abortion and that’s final. We still have plenty of time.” His words made me see red. “No!” I shout. “Excuse me?!” Claude looked at me with ferocious eyes. “I am having this baby! This is our baby, not yours!” I yell grabbing JJ’s hand.

“The hell you are keeping it! It’s just a fetus!” Claude protests. “This is not your decision Claude! She’s the one who’s pregnant. Not you.” My mother takes my side. “Bullshit! She’s my kid I’ll do whatever I want with her. And if that means I have to rip the child out myself then so be it!” He grabs a hold of my arm, dragging me out of bed, while everyone tries to shove him off of me. “You monster! Get off me! Help!”

“Get the fuck off her!” JJ punches Claude across the face, which seems to piss him off even more, causing him to grab JJ by the shirt. Damian is finally able to pull Claude off of me. Jennifer and my mom pull me up from the floor. “I’ll kick your ass if you ever touch her like that again!” Yelled JJ. “Fuck off! She’s my kid! I’ll do whatever the hell I please!”

“She’s not yours!” My mother’s voice echoes throughout the room. Everyone stared at her for a moment, in disbelief, unsure we heard her right. “What the hell did you just say?” Claude asked in disbelief. “She’s not yours, Claude.” My mother says softly. Her eyes full of shame, as she looks over to see me in complete utter shock. Words can’t find their way out of my mouth. “You fucking liar! You’re lying!” He denied. “Why would I lie about that?!” My mom shouted, tears in her eyes. “Okay, well if she’s not mine, then who’s the father? Tell me goddamn it! Who’s her father?!” Claude knocks over a glass. My mom doesn’t answer. She just stands there silently holding her ground.

“She’s his. Isn’t she?” All of us sat there in confusion, as to who they were talking about. “You lying whore!” Damian grabs my father by the collar of his shirt. “You watch your mouth when you talk to my mom!” “She’s a liar and a cheater!” My dad defends himself. “Like you aren’t?! We all know you’ve been cheating on mom for years now, so don’t act all innocent! You think we don’t know about your mistress? Don’t shit on mom because she was tired of being in a loveless marriage, and you refused to sign the goddamn papers. You gave her no fucking choice!” Jennifer called him out triumphantly.

“Screw you guys! You deserve each other!” He yells before turning to Jennifer. “You can go back to Boston for all I care! And you!” He points at JJ and I. “Don’t even bother coming back home.” He said heartlessly, tears began to well in my eyes. “Where am I supposed to go?!” “Why should I care? You’re not even my fucking kid!” His words stung me harshly. “Enjoy your little bundle of joy.” Claude says before leaving the room. I finally break down in the bed, not able to hold back my sobs. JJ wastes no time pull me into his strong arms, letting me cry into his shoulder.

“Just let it go, baby. I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere. I promise. I love you and I’m gonna love this baby. I promise.” His soft words bring me comfort as I cry. I don’t know how long we laid there with him just holding me and whispering sweet nothings into my ears as I let all of emotions out. At this point, I didn’t care about what my dad, er, Claude had said. I have JJ and our beautiful creation inside me.

#jj maybank #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank smut #obx netflix #obx fanfiction

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we-are-inevitable · 4 years

Text

love and it’s decisive pain

Prompt: "Could you make a modern spin where javid is established but they are hiding it at first. And David’s parents find them and tease them cause they knew already?" (i had to repost this and can’t remember who sent this ask, but thank you!)

Rating: M (for good measure)

Warnings: Mentions of violence and homophobia (to third party, unnamed characters), vague NSFW concepts, coming out anxiety. feel free to message me if i need to put any other trigger warnings, and i will gladly do so!

Word Count: 2,364

Read on AO3! Fic under the cut.

The decision to never come out was something that David had made peace with long ago.

He had been fourteen when he made the vow. Fourteen and vulnerable. Naive. At first, he had wanted to come out. He had known something was different about him, since the first time he heard Sarah talk about a boy she liked, and realized that what she was describing- what she felt for a guy in her class- was the same way that he felt about guys, too. At the time, he had been twelve, just now starting to realize that liking guys was even an option- and apparently, it was the only option that he saw fit for himself.

At age twelve, David realized he liked men.

At age thirteen, David realized he liked only men.

At fourteen, David realized he was in love with his best friend who had just moved to the school.

David had thought about the possibility of bringing it up to his parents, but he had never found the right time, never found the right way to say it. He had even considered trying to tell Sarah first, or maybe even Les, but he figured that Les was too young and Sarah just wouldn’t understand that her baby brother was anything other than straight. Nonetheless, David had made… a plan, per se, of just how he was going to do it. He had written it out and everything- he was going to wait until he left for school one day, maybe kiss his Ma on the forehead and give his Dad a goodbye hug. Then, he was going to walk to the door, yell, “Hey, I’m gay!”, and take off like a shot down the flight of stairs in their apartment building.

It was a plan. He never claimed it was good.

But that was before he saw just what could happen if he did. He saw a news report, of a couple being attacked on the subway for daring to be brave enough to hold hands in public. He remembered seeing the pictures on the TV, seeing the bruises and the bloody noses, and that struck enough fear into his heart that he had resigned himself to being alone. He would lurk in the shadows. Give his unconditional love and support to others. He would be the best damn ally he could be, but after seeing the pain, the heartbreak, the fear in the faces of the men on the TV that night, he knew his choice was the right one. He wouldn’t be able to survive if something like that happened to him.

He had successfully made it three years without anyone knowing the biggest secret of his life. Not even his closest friends knew, even though most of them were in the community themselves. It wasn’t as though he didn’t trust them- no, no, he trusted each of them with his life. Crutchie, Race, Albert, and Elmer, along with many others, had already told him that they would take care of him if anything ever happened. It had been joking, but David didn’t doubt their loyalty for a minute.

But then there was Jack.

Jack, the guy that David had been crushing on for three years.

Jack, the guy who had the most intense stare, most beautiful smile, most effective puppy dog eyes, most lovely laugh and talent and, God, David could listen to him talk, listen to his accent, for hours on end.

It was Jack that had caused his crisis, who had been the guy behind the story, the guy he wanted to come out for. He remembered the night that Jack told him he was bi, a conversation that had happened at four in the morning one summer night when they were both sixteen. Oh, how Davey longed to tell Jack then. How he longed to lean over, gently cup his cheek and kiss the worries and insecurities out of him.

Instead, he had just reassured Jack that he didn’t care, that he would always be safe with him, and that he was always there if Jack needed to talk.

They had been in a similar situation about a year later. Another late night, safe on Jack’s fire escape, where they had been for hours watching the sunset and idly talking about the people that passed on the streets below. Jack had kitted it out with everything- some christmas lights wrapped around the railings, two thick blankets laid out on the floor and an old-fashioned radio playing some music behind them. In a way, that fire escape felt more like home than any other place on earth.

It was everything that David had ever dreamed of.

They had gotten pretty silent, but it was a comfortable drop in conversation as they both watched the bustling streets of New York. It was Jack who broke it eventually, taking in a deep breath as he looked down. “‘Ey, Dave?” “Yeah, Jackie?” David asked softly, pushing himself up from his back. He stopped about halfway, kicking his long legs out in front of him, braced on his palms.

“You… You know how I told ya, that I’m into dudes?” Jack approached the subject carefully. Davey gulped. His mind immediately went somewhere bad- that Jack had a boyfriend, that Jack had found out that he really only liked women, that Jack had been... hurt. “Well, I-... There’s a guy,” Jack started, and Davey could see him tapping a familiar rhythm onto his knee. Jack did that when he was anxious. “And, well- I like ‘im. A lot. But… But I dunno if he’s into guys, and even if he is, I don’t think I’m the kind’a fella he would like--”

“Are you kidding?”

“Huh?”

“Jack,” David said with a sad grin, furrowing a brow. “Any guy would have to be crazy not to like you back. I mean, have you seen yourself? You’re hot,” David said with a soft laugh, gently nudging Jack’s shoulder with a fist. “Plus, you’re talented. You’re crazy good at art, you can sing and play guitar, you’re wicked smart. Unless a guy just wasn’t into smartasses, I don’t get why anyone wouldn’t be into you,” David joked softly, but every word was the truth. He didn’t understand why Jack was so insecure, why he was so self deprecating, but he knew it had been something he had struggled with for a long time.

“...For sure?” Jack asked, his voice smaller than David had ever heard it. “Jackie, I wouldn’t lie to ya,” He said with a grin. “Everything I said is true, y’know. You’re an amazing man, any guy would be lucky to--”

David was cut off with hands fisting his shirt and dragging him into a kiss.

Time stopped for a moment.

David could feel his eye’s widening, could feel his heart pounding, mind racing a mile a minute. He must have froze, because suddenly, all too suddenly, Jack was pulling away with a flushed face and a look of terror in his eyes. “Fuck, Dave, I’m so sorry, I didn’t--” He cut himself off with a deep breath, immediately turning away from David to face the New York skyline yet again.

David took in a shuddering breath a few moments later. “...Jack, you idiot,” He muttered, and Jack winced, turning to apologize yet again, until Davey pulled him in for another kiss. This time, he was in control. The kiss was soft, hesitant at first, until the both of them got confident enough to take it to the next level.

David had his arms wrapped around Jack’s waist, the angle a bit awkward, until Jack had fixed it by moving to sit in David’s lap. That was when it hit David that this was real. He was kissing Jack Kelly, and Jack Kelly was kissing back.

After that night, they kept things lowkey. David still wasn’t ready to come out to the guys, which Jack understood wholeheartedly. Their relationship may have been a secret, but it didn’t mean tht they didn’t like it. No, sneaking around was fun. Making out in the school bathroom, going on dates disguised as hangouts, even being there for each other on their eighteenth birthdays was something so much more magical than anyone knew.

They lived in that bubble of safety until they finally told the guys the night after their high school graduation. They had been together for close to a year that night, and it just felt right. All of them were together, hanging out in the park and discussing the crazy graduation parties that had happened the night before. Something must have lit a fire in David, because Jack made eye contact with him as Race was telling a story, and David kissed him in front of everyone else. They had to fess up- after Race finished his agonizingly long story, of course- but David had never felt happier.

That next week, David was riding the high of finally making it. He had a boyfriend, he was officially moving on to college in the fall, and he was finally, finally safe and accepted.

Until that next Friday came along.

David had thought that they had the apartment to themselves. Jack had even climbed through the window for good measure, but David knew that his parents were going on a weekend getaway in Boston, and Les would be at a friend’s house until Sunday, so he didn’t think to lock the door.

It started out as cuddling and watching some old western movie that Jack had fallen in love with, before cuddling turned to kissing, and kissing turned to David pressing Jack down against the bed as he nipped and sucked dark marks onto the tan skin of Jack’s neck. Jack was a blushing mess, murmuring soft pleas as his hands carded through Davey’s dark hair. “Davey, baby, come on, stop teasin’,” Jack muttered pitifully, eyes shutting, before they suddenly flew wide open at the sound of David’s bedroom door opening. “David, we just came back because your father forgot his wallet, and-- Oh, my good Lord!”

The door was shut just as fast as it had opened, and David was so thankful that they were still clothed, until he realized what had just happened.

He could feel himself visibly paling as he launched away from Jack, hurrying to stand up. “Oh, fuck, oh, fuck--”

“Babe, babe, calm down, it’s--”

Jack didn’t have time to say another word before David was already out the door and down the hall.

“Ma!” David said quickly, chest heaving as he came to a standstill in the living room. He was red faced in shame, and could already feel the tears welling in his eyes. “Ma, it- it’s not what it looks like!” He rushed out, gulping when he heard footsteps behind him. He turned and saw Jack, looking just as scared as he did, as he desperately buttoned his flannel to try to cover the marks. “We-- I didn’t-- I thought- Ma, I’m not--” “David.”

David went silent, staring at the floor with wide eyes, refusing to meet his mother's gaze. He vaguely registered his father coming into the room, who stopped mid sentence when he saw Jack and his son.

David could feel his world crumbling, but then he felt Jack’s hand gently grab his, ever so slightly intertwining their fingers. He glanced over at Jack with wide eyes, who looked at him and gave a gentle nod, taking a deep breath.

Slowly, David looked back up, gulping. “...Mama, Dad, Jack and I--” “We know, dear.”

“You-- You know?”

David finally took a good look at them. His father was standing behind his mother, a strong hand on her shoulder, but they didn’t look… angry. Or upset. Instead, they were smiling at him. “David, hunny, we’ve known for years. We… found a note that you had written- something or another, of how you wanted to tell us. At- At first, we were… shocked. We didn’t really know what to do, so we decided to wait it out until you told us yourself, we just didn’t expect it to take four years,” Esther added with a gentle laugh.

“It didn’t shock us to find out you were with Jack, either,” Mayer noted, glancing between the two boys. “Jack, you spend an awful lot of time at our house, more than any of the other boys. As long as you don’t intend on hurting our son, you’re part of this family, too.”

That was David’s breaking point.

He couldn’t hold in the sob that rose up from his chest, and though the Jacobs family had never been the most physically affectionate, David found himself running across the room. He pulled his mother into a tight hug, crying softly into her shoulder, and he took in a deep, shuddering breath as she rubbed his back. He pulled away and wiped his eyes, only to be pulled into another hug by Mayer, which was a shocking moment in itself.

One of them must have gestured to Jack to come closer, too, because when David looked over, Esther had him wrapped into a tight hug. David stepped away, and watched with a fond smile as Jack shook his father's hand.

Things seemed to calm down after that, though David still had watery eyes, but he couldn’t help the immense joy that flooded his chest. He gulped and wrapped an arm around Jack’s waist, who in turn began rubbing his back.

“Like I said,” Mayer spoke firmly, “take good care of our boy. Now, we have a reservation at the hotel to meet by midnight, so we should get going,” He said, looking down at Esther, who nodded.

They said their last goodbyes, but just as the door closed, it opened again. Esther poked her head in and grinned. “One more thing- use protection!” She said quickly, before the door shut with a final click.

David would have been mortified, if not for the bright laughter that bubbled out from the boy beside him.

Yeah, this was a happiness he could get used to, he thought as he pulled Jack in for another kiss.

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