samdean_otp 2012 minibang: Revision
+Chapter One+ChapterTwo+ Chapter Three+PART ONE
"Well, all right, Jerry. You're taking a big step, but you can do it. You're ready. Good luck, and call us whenever you need to, okay?"
Jerry nodded. "Thanks, yeah, I will," he said. He took a deep breath, shouldered the backpack that held all his worldly possessions and stepped out into the sunshine, where little birds called cheerfully to one another as they swooped here and there in a clear blue sky dotted with puffy little white clouds, and on the horizon, a rainbow stretched from one end to the other.
Well, actually, it was pissing down rain and the sky was the color of dirty metal and no bird was fucking stupid enough to be out in that mess…but all the sunshine was implied.
He took a taxi to the address he'd be living at for the foreseeable future and hoped his roommates were as okay as they'd seemed when they'd last talked. Hell, they had to be good guys to take a chance on him.
Jerry was hoping hard that it'd all work out. It seemed perfect-the place was great, and he'd have his own bedroom, in fact, the whole third floor of the old house they rented. He'd loved the big, bright room, the tiny bathroom, there was even an alcove big enough to shove a desk and a chair and maybe a bookcase.
Less than a half hour later he got out in front of the tall, narrow house that had seen better days, but just like the first time he'd seen her, she radiated comfort and welcome. His gaze shifted to the third floor-where he'd be living. He frowned slightly, picking at the fuzzed edges of his mind, and the faint-very faint-sort of echo of having been in a rambling old house before. Jerry couldn't find a solid memory of ever living in a house before…actually; he had no memories of much, except vague, fractured snips of The Accident and somewhat clearer ones of the aftermath. Still, he was pretty sure if he'd lived in a big old house like the one he was looking at; he'd remember it, wouldn't he?
He paid the driver, hefted the backpack, and walked up the worn concrete front walk, brushing water off the tiger-lilies that lined it as he walked. Jerry climbed the porch steps and gazed about. The front porch was great-a deep old thing, with wide wood planks painted grey, wrapping around the front of the place right to the sides. It was as inviting as he remembered it being. One of his roommates had told him on his initial visit that they'd had epic parties on that porch, not that parties interested Jerry much. But, it meant the neighbors were cool and that was good. Jerry scoped out either side-old folks on the one side and kids on the other but little kids, going by the clunky plastic bikes and little plastic car sitting in the yard. Friendly, but not too friendly-there was a knee high fence around the front yard but the side yard was enclosed with a substantial stockade fence. Back yards were private, then.
The old boat of a car parked in the other neighbors' drive was pretty much a give-away that they were probably on in years. Their car was as elderly as they were, but it was in good, clean shape, obviously lovingly maintained and the thought made him smile. Classic cars should be appreciated-deserved to be treated well.
The wicker furniture sat on their porch was also old, but sturdy still, with pillows that were straight out of the eighties-cabbage roses and ivy. Jerry didn't even question that he knew what cabbage roses were and not so much more important things.
The front door at his new address opened. "If you're done surveilling the neighborhood, ya freak, then come on in, there's coffee."
Jerry grinned and jogged up the wide porch steps.
"Hey, Jerry, 'bout time you got out of the rain. Here, gimme your bag and go sit down." The guy stepped aside and Jerry stepped into warm, cookie-scented air. A shiver of appreciation ran up his spine. Jerry left his wet boots in the entryway and shuffled after him.
This was Gabe, Roommate the First, the one Jerry'd met when he was almost ready to leave the program. He was elfin-well next to himself nearly everyone was elfin. But there was something about Gabe that fit the description perfectly. He was compact, with bright, inquisitive eyes and quirky smile-he seemed an open and friendly type of guy.
From out of the dining room Jerry heard, "Is that the new roomie, tell him to get out here."
That was Roommate the Second, the one he'd met after going through Gabe's rather odd interview. Al was quieter than Gabe, calm, but the kind of calm that was probably hard-won. There wasn't the underlying slightly twitchy, maybe a little anxious, vibe that Jerry got from Gabe. Al was still, but had a sly sense of humor rounded out with a touch of geek and a bit of goof.
It was like, Jerry thought, they'd been created especially with him in mind. He kind of disbelieved his luck-had a feeling that luck was a commodity he was extremely low in, at least the good kind. But he was damn grateful to have fallen in with them-they seemed to be good people. They knew all there was to know about Jerry, at least what there was to know, and liked him, anyway. They'd agreed it was weird not knowing yourself really, but they weren't uncomfortable or god forbid, pitying. They just invited him-and his paycheck-to make a new life with them.
Jerry stood in the dining room doorway and watched his roomies get coffee together, Gabe setting out ridiculous mugs while Al cleared the table of papers and laptop.
"Okay, so, you checked in at Pete's yet?" Al asked, and Jerry swallowed. Nervous about new beginnings since he had no old ones to draw on.
"No, I thought I'd better get settled here first. I called to get my hours though-" Jerry dropped in a chair and scooted closer to the table. "I'm on the night shift tomorrow."
Al winced. "Man, that sucks. That means they're kind of tossing you right into the stew, no prelims."
Gabe set a cup down in front of Jerry. "No worries, Jer. I can tell you can handle it. Besides, a coffee joint is no comparison to a major accident and amnesia, right dude? I mean, what the fuck else can life throw at you?"
Jerry and Al stared at Gabe, open-mouthed with disbelief. Al yelled, "Gabe! Be more insensitive, ya pocket asshole."
Jerry's shocked gaze lit on Al. "Pocket asshole? Ew."
Al made a face. "I know, right? That didn't come out at all like it sounded in my head."
Gabe sat with his coffee and a box of cookies. He grabbed a handful before passing them to Jerry. "Look, I just mean Jerry's not a baby, he can take it. What good is it for us to act like he's got no shit to deal with? Are we gonna tiptoe around it or deal?"
Jerry took a couple of cookies out of the box and passed it on. He nibbled around the edges in thought. "Gabe's right," he said. "I don’t want anyone uncomfortable. It's something I have to deal with. Some days I deal just fine, some days…not so much. I'm gonna have to ask you now to just…not take any shit personal." He peered at Al. "I can get…kinda cranky."
Al just gazed back at him with big dark eyes, sympathetic and kind. "Okay, fair'nough." His gaze sharpened, and suddenly looked a lot less kind. "Now here's my warning to you. I only deal with so much shit before I reach my limit. Since we're being all honest and open an' shit with each other."
"Fair enough," Jerry repeated Al's words back to him. "I'll keep that in mind."
Gabe beamed at the both of them. ""Looks like we're starting a beautiful friendship.'"
Al wrinkled his nose and said, "You mean, 'this looks like the start of a beautiful friendship.'"
Jerry coughed softly and said, "Louis, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."
Al and Gabe said, "Hunh." and "Geek." simultaneously.
Jerry just wondered how the hell it was that he remembered lines from Casablanca but couldn't remember where the hell he came from.
+++
three months later…
It was five in the morning and Jerry had just washed the floor. While it dried, he went to the front, rolled out the green and white awning that read, "Pete's Café". He pulled the plastic chairs and tables out from the wall and wiped them down, tucked the cloth in his apron.
At that point, Adrie came strolling in and he decided it was time for a breather.
It was a little past six now. The weather was good, so he grabbed a cup of coffee, headed outside to watch the street come to life. A few more minutes and the college crowd would start filtering in. They were so fucking young and sometimes, they just made him tired…other times, they filled him full of…feeling good to be alive. Ever since the accident, Jerry tried not to take shit for granted and being around the kids helped. Their concerns, their problems, he helped when he could, listened, gave advice they probably ignored but thanked him for…it took him out of his own concerns for a bit.
His roommates nagged him to think about school-think about the future, getting himself back together, or like Al said, at least get laid, but Jerry wasn't worried about that. Not really. It was just…he knew that somewhere out there, there had to be, there was someone for him. He'd made the mistake once of saying just that to his other roommate, Gabe, and fuck if those two bastards hadn't had Fievel singing at the top of his lungs for a week straight.
"Somewhere, out there- shit!" Jerry cursed the earworminess of that damn song. Bastards. It was going to be in his head all damn day now….
One o'clock and Jerry got ready for the shift change. He tucked his apron behind the employee's room door and slid on his favorite jacket, an oversized Carhart, a Salvation Army find. The thing was huge around the middle but the sleeves were long enough to cover his wrists and that was what counted. He called out good-bye to his coworkers and headed home.
He made spaghetti and meatballs for dinner because both his roommates liked it. They watched TV together because they liked each other. Al had some work to catch up on so eventually he headed to his room, Gabe slouched out to their tiny patio to smoke a not-allowed-in-the-house cigarette, Jerry went to sleep and had nightmares all night long.
They were quiet nightmares, mostly nebulous, came nearly every night and he never remembered them. The only thing that changed was the way he woke up, crying, shaking, or so angry that it scared him. In all the dreams there was something, someone, who'd hurt him, but he wasn't sure how.
Some days he woke up missing a life he couldn't remember much of, just so much. On those days, he'd get out of bed and make pancakes, and his roommates would make a fuss over him. It was a good system. Pancakes=heartache, need hugs. Cupcakes=happiness. Or, overstock at the café. Either way, it was a win-win sitch for everyone.
+++
"Jerry, come out with us this Friday," Al yelled. "You'll thank me."
Jerry rolled his eyes and tried to run for his floor of the house.
"No running, dude." Al came around the corner, his tie undone and hanging lop-sided under his collar. His jacket flew through the air and landed over the couch back, his messenger bag plopped down to lean against the dining room wall. "Seriously. There's this new chick, she's coming," he said and toed off his shoes.
"Don't leave them there," Jerry said, "and don't set me up. We talked about this."
"Jer, dude-she's hot as hell, man. Really, like-fucking hot. And smart. Funny."
"You date her."
"I would but…"
"You're prejudiced. Plain and simple."
"I am not. She's just not my type."
"Right. You don't go for hot, smart, sexy women."
"Shut up. I'm beginning to think you don't."
"Don’t what?" Gabe said, slipping out of his room and under Al's arm. "Did you bring rolls?"
"Jerry doesn’t like girls."
"What? Yes he does, who said he didn't?"
"Women, not girls and no, I don't."
"What?"
"What?"
"I'm gay. Is. Is that going to be a problem?" Jerry's stomach dropped and he felt faintly queasy. There wasn't all that much personal he remembered after the accident: his name, he'd liked school and Dr. Pepper…and he was gay. And also, that he wasn't ashamed of it. He lifted his chin and grit his teeth, his eyes went narrow and he waited. Whatever happened, happened.
"You're gay." Gabe didn't ask it, he stated it, and his eyes roamed over Jerry and he looked a little confused. He bit his lip and looked at Al.
Al stared at Jerry, open-mouthed; surprised eyes the only thing Jerry could see for a moment, Al had them open so wide. He licked his lips and said, "Hunh."
Jerry waited, jaw still stiff, legs wide and his shoulders loose. Ready. He didn't have that much to pack and he could be out in a few minutes, to…somewhere….
Al said, "Hunh," again, and nodded. "Okay, there's this guy in the mailroom, he's really hot-and trust me, I can tell, not like most straight guys who act like they don't know, believe it, everyone knows-"
"Wait." Gabe held his hands up, looked up at Al and Jerry. "So, you're gay, and you didn't bring any rolls home. How are we eating chicken salad sandwiches without the rolls? Why did you let us keep trying to set you up if you don't like girls-?"
"Women-"
"Yeah, yeah, PC boy. Spill."
"Well, you guys seemed to be enjoying it so much…" Inside, Jerry was singing. He was right. They were great guys, he was lucky." Thanks, really, thanks, you guys."
Al and Gabe shrugged. Gabe said, "You're welcome. Now get your gay ass down to the corner and get rolls so we don't have to scoop chicken salad up in our hands."
Al said thoughtfully, "Restaurants serve it in lettuce cups…"
"Again, something we don't have."
Jerry snickered, "I'm going, I'm going- I also notice that when it's my night to make dinner, I make sure we have everything, just sayin'-"
"Your people are compulsively organized and nit-picky."
"Your people are short and ignorant," Jerry shot back and Al nodded.
"It's true, Gabriel. You are short and ignorant."
"You're tall and mean."
"And permanently tanned. And incredibly handsome. And smart, and cultured. Did I mention handsome?"
"I'm out," Jerry shouted and shut the door. On a chorus of 'duh's. He grinned all the way down the street, all the way through shopping and was still grinning when he set his bag of six loose rolls on the counter. The owner smiled back, and slipped a couple of chocolate chip cookies in the bag, free.
Pretty fucking good day.
He was headed back up the block and had just passed Pete's when he caught sight of a guy leaning against an ugly blue and primer-gray car, something old-in a junk-heap way, not in a classic way. The guy was good-looking. He turned his head towards Jerry.
He was damn good looking, actually.
Easy to see that, even with the douchy sunglasses blocking his eyes. Jerry blushed a little-he was obviously staring. It was so obvious, the guy tilted his head a bit towards him and Jerry decided head tilt was saying hello. So what the hell, he nodded back-and then quickly looked away and didn't run back home, just decided that a very brisk pace was good for the cardio-vascular system. A good, brisk, walk was good for you. Everyone knew that.
That was his story and he was sticking to it.
+++
The next afternoon he saw Ray-Ban guy again, this time leaving Pete's, chugging back a cup of coffee and heading towards his hideous car. Jerry was sorry he hadn't been on shift. He'd missed a perfect opportunity to…to…stare like a moron, more than likely. Jerry sighed. Yeah. Just before he shoved open the café door, he caught the guy looking right at him and risked a little smile. This time, the guy cocked an eyebrow over his Ray-Bans, but he didn't fling his coffee to the ground and ask Jerry what the fuck he was grinning at. So…that had to be a point in his favor, right?
After that, it seemed that Ray-Bans Guy was always around. Every morning, he'd come in and get a coffee, though never the same thing twice. Some days black, some days loaded with milk and sugar, sometimes with flavoring and whipped cream. He always said thank you, and in such a serious way Jerry had to fight to keep a smile in, and never took his glasses off. After a while, Jerry could even guess a bit at the guy's mood. He smiled on black coffee days and looked tired or…sad or something, on sweet coffee days. Jerry wondered if some days called for the sugar boost, wondered what the guy did for a living. Wondered if he was straight, or if not, if he was single. That, Jerry got no clue of.
He must live somewhere in the neighborhood, though, since he came in regular as clock-work and Jerry was surprised that he hadn't seen the guy around before this-no way could he miss a guy as hot as that. It got so that Jerry started calling the guy Ray, and maybe started making up a friendship in his mind, something that went beyond, "Coffee, black-thanks dude."
In his mind, Ray would rip his glasses off and say, "Oh my god, I've been looking for you everywhere-my soulmate!" And hold his arms open, and Jerry'd jump over the counter, rip off his apron and toss it. Ray would sweep him up in his arms and carry him out through a gauntlet of his clapping and cheering co-workers-
Sure, with his long ass legs dragging on the floor and knocking into tables, bowling his co-workers over with his big head. So sue him, life was a little boring, at least when he was awake.
An elbow to the ribs knocked him out of his less-than-satisfying fantasy, and he looked around to see Adrie trying to get past him. "You know, you should ask the guy out or something," Adrie said as she scooted past Jerry. The lunch crowd had just died down, and this was the time they were supposed to be quickly cleaning before the next wave.
"What the hell? What are you on about?" Jerry moved away from the window side of the counter and followed her back, fiddled with the pastry trays as an excuse to have followed her.
"Oh gosh, what was I on about, silly me. Sorry guy, if you're trying to be stealthy about it, you lose."
"Shit. You think he knows?"
Adrie stopped traying up the dirty cups and scrunched her nose in thought. Jerry thought the expression was awfully cute, but was afraid to tell her-she might like it, then again, she might hit him and the girl had a punch like a mule kick. "I can't really tell," she said finally. "It’s a weird vibe I'm getting from him. I mean, he watches you but…not sure what it is. He's either hot for you or he just really wants to be your friend. Or maybe kick your ass…?"
"Wow. Thanks a fucking lot, this talk was really helpful."
She flipped him off and went out to the front, leaving Jerry alone with his thoughts. He wiped the prep counter and thought about that, that maybe Ray just wanted to be friends. Friends was good, you could never have too many friends. Sure. A sharp little stab of disappointment angled through him at the thought that that was all Ray was going to want.
Jerry went back out front himself, smiled at the next customer in line, and went through the spiel on automatic. Whatever. What did Adrie know anyway? Ray was probably dying to get some of Jerry. Hell yeah, he wanted some of thi-"Oh. Hi…I. Hello."
Ray, who was standing right in front of him.
"Hey Sasquatch-ur-shit." Ray was looking very embarrassed and twisting some weird pendant thing he wore on a leather strip through his fingers-very sort of neo-eighties hippy, but what the hell. He was hot enough to be forgiven for it. "Sorry for that, dude."
Jerry grinned. "I am tall. But I'm not owning hairy."
"Dude-you seen yourself? You need a haircut bad. And the beard. Grizzly Adams called, he wants it back." Ray looked a little startled himself, and then blushed a bit, and grinned a bit, and Jerry wondered if it'd be too soon to jump over the counter. Still, the beard had been insulted. He'd cultivated that beard. It made him look…less vulnerable. Tough. Manly. "So, you won’t be wanting any coffee then?"
"I do want some-if I can get it without extra added spit." Ray kept on grinning.
Jerry was doing cartwheels in his mind. Holy shit, Ray was hot and funny. If insulting. "Okay, but you don't know what you're missing…"
Adrie crossed the floor and threw him a thumbs up because she was corny. And embarrassing. Thank god Ray just grabbed his coffee and left before she started in on show tunes. Jerry couldn't help smiling at the spot Ray had vacated. Life had suddenly become better. Marginally better, with possible potential for an upswing. Finally.
That evening, he headed into his tiny bathroom with a pair of scissors, took out his razor and shaving cream and bid his beard a fond farewell. It was odd how, as the beard came off, it was like looking at a faintly familiar stranger….
+++
So, Al got it in his head that the perfect way for Jerry to meet guys was to go to a ballgame, and he couldn’t be persuaded otherwise. Gabe bowed out, since he actually had a girlfriend and refused to be part of what he called the mating dance. Jerry was pretty sure Al just wanted someone to keep him company and was afraid to ask.
Since Jerry was a nice person, he said yes to the game even though baseball made him yawn in the way slasher flicks and daytime television did-it was irrelevant to his life and interests and made no fucking sense at all. In retaliation he forced Al to buy him a shit ton of food.
Food was great; food was just-well, kind of a thing with him. Great big cheeseburgers dripping with grease, mounds of fries almost white with salt, anything from the candy aisle and double that from the soda aisle was perfect comfort food for him. He got an inexplicable feeling sometimes when he scarfed stuff like that down-with the smell of greasy fries and meat, he was less alone. Maybe his family had eaten like that. Maybe eating like that was an echo memory of those times…whatever, hotdogs with onions and relish and sauerkraut and curly fries were the bomb, as he informed Al.
Al hit him. "Nobody in real life talks like that."
"Can't help it, that just how I roll."
Al hit him again. "Once more and your ass is out in the parking lot."
"Threats, threats, that’s all I get from you," Jerry muttered. He stuck the straw of his coke in his mouth and sucked reflexively, gazing around the stands and settling in to people watching. Gabe had told Jerry once that his people watching was more like profiling and he'd laughed-he snorted now remembering.
"Ew, stop it."
Jerry stepped on Al's foot, then left his foot there and Al ruffled his hair like he was a little kid. Al even had that fond uncle look on his face, and it made Jerry snort again-Al jabbed him again and then, they kind of leaned in to each other. Jerry settled, feeling almost, sort of, close to content. Elbow to elbow, they watched the game, Jerry glancing around from time to time. He sneaked the occasional look at Al, the way the sun highlighted his dark chocolate skin, made it rich and velvety.
Al was such a good looking guy…and here he was, sitting in a ball park with his gay roomie, instead of taking some hot girl out for…whatever. He felt a deep flash of guilt. Al really shouldn't be wasting his time baby-sitting him. Jerry knew it was totally selfish on his part; he liked Al looking out for him, it was like having an older brother. Al almost filled an achy, empty spot inside him and Jerry hated to give that up but. For Al's sake, he'd have to talk to Gabe. Operation Find A Mate needed to have its focus shifted...just imaging Gabe's eyes lighting up for that made Jerry smile.
Jerry was still smiling when he lifted his head and holy crap, there he was-Hot Guy Ray, a couple of rows down and looking up at him with…horror painted all over his face. What the hell?
Suddenly, weirdly, the guy seemed to be furious-he jumped out of his seat. Jerry jumped up himself, and Ray did a double-take, glared at Jerry and shook his head. Looked like he was talking to himself, as he weaved his way past people who instantly obliged him by shifting out of his way, more sort of a shying away from him in fear than politness-
So. Apparently, Hot Guy Ray was also Psycho Hot Guy and possibly a bigot. Unless he thought Al and he were here on a date in which case, he was a homophobe as well as a bigot. Great.
Jerry decided to follow the jerk anyway. "Gotta pee."
"Ew. Don't share and don't tell me if you have sex in the bathroom with that guy."
"Wha-are you serious? First of all, kind of stereotyping and second-those bathrooms are toxic. And I don't know what you're talking about."
"I'm not blind," Al waved him off. "Go; go-this game ain't gettin' no better." But he winked and smirked and Jerry flipped him off. Al was crazy. He wasn't chasing anyone. Sort of.
Jerry just happened to be wandering around near the vendor booths when he caught sight of Ray. The guy did another double-take and stumbled to a stop. With the stupid glasses on, it was a little hard to read him, but his body language screamed uncomfortable and awkward. His hand went up to the ugly ass necklace, but he made a visible effort not to touch it and wiped his hand on his thigh instead.
"Hey…the pretzels. Good, I mean," Jerry said, jerking his chin at the stand. Wow…articulate as hell.
"Yeah. You saw me, didn’t you? Looking at that-that guy. I thought I knew him. Are you friends?" And the fucker sounded so judgmental that it set Jerry off. Fucking bigot homophobic bastard.
"Wow, douche bag. That guy's my very dear friend and you can just go to hell, you judgmental ass-"
"No, no, that's not-look, let's just say I had a horrible experience with someone who looked like your friend-I'm going to kill Cas and his little pocket universe bullshit-"
Jerry blinked…okay, whatever the fuck that was, maybe it was time to get out of the line of fire. "I gotta go back, Al's waiting and I-gotta go."
Ray looked a little panicky, and started to rush forward, but at Jerry's flinch away, he took a step back, held his hands up. "No, wait, I'm not crazy-well, yeah, maybe a little but not in a ax behind my back way."
Jerry couldn't believe he actually laughed at that and Ray beamed. "Seriously, man. I'm not what you think," Ray said. "I'm just, just-a guy at a ballgame. It's like the first time in years I've been and it's…weird that I ran into you here," he said, smiling like it was Christmas.
"Yeah…um. It's weird to see you outside of Pete's, too. But nice."
"Yeah." Ray coughed and shifted, hands fidgeting at the edge of his jacket before shooting up to smooth down the short hairs at the back of his neck. Jerry smiled. Ray's' little fidget dance was awkward, sweet, and…felt familiar. "I just got in the area and I'm trying to find my special places. You know, my best coffee place, my favorite diner-the place I'll always go?"
"Is that so? Well. You're complicated, aren’t you?"
"Hey, what can I say? I've got layers."
Ray beamed at Jerry as he said it, such a wide, bright, kind of goofy smile that Jerry was helpless to do anything but smile right back. "Okay," he said, "we can call it layers…"
"Right. Right. So. I'll let you get back to your, ah, friend. And I'll see you. See you at Pete's. Around. And…s'good look for you, the no beard. I like it. Not that it matters if I do or not-y'know."
"Oh, no, that's-that's-thanks. Thanks," Jerry stuttered, while the rest of his brain did internal fist pumps. "Okay, bye, Ra-" he stopped. What the hell was the guy's name?
Ray hesitated, held out his hand and said, "I'm-my name is. It's Dean," he said and seemed to wait, so Jerry grabbed his hand and pumped it once or twice and sighed inside when Dean just let his hand drop, no hesitation, no lingering touch in return. Straight. Because Jerry's luck was like that.
"Hi, Dean, my name's Jerry, but you probably knew that from the name tag."
"Yeah, yeah, it’s strange. I mean, knowing a person's name without knowing them. Oooh-kay, so I gotta go-see ya Monday, Jerry."
"Okay, Dean." Jerry watched Ray-Dean-leave, shook his head. Dean was definitely odd but still, awfully cute. And the name suit him for some reason. Dean….
Yeah, he liked that name.
+++
The next time he saw Dean, it was at the corner of his street. Jerry stopped, frowned. There was no reason for the guy to be there-there was nothing on his street but a bunch of old houses and a tobacco shop on the end of the block. Jerry shook his head and let the little quiver of unease fade. Sure, the tobacco shop, that was probably reason Dean was there. Still, how close did this Dean live, anyway?
The guy was walking along, staring at his feet, and the chill of unease was back. That wasn't right, Dean should be heads up, paying attention and not-and Jerry caught himself. Not what? It wasn't like his block was the Wild Wild West or anything. Nothing on the block to look out for. Still, he couldn't get rid of the feeling until Dean was a few feet away.
"Hey, Jerry!" he said, and seemed genuinely surprised to see him. He glanced around, frowning, and then back at Jerry. "Don't tell me you live here?"
"Ah, yeah…do you?"
Dean lifted a creased, smudged index card up, his eyes went narrow as he studied it and then shot wide open, affording Jerry a happy second in which he tried to memorize how green Dean's eyes were….
"Christ," Dean snapped, and rolled his eyes. "The guy's as subtle as a fucking brick to the head. Clarence Street? Really?"
Jerry didn't speak a word because it seemed Dean was having a conversation with himself and he felt it'd be rude to interrupt. He waited patiently until Dean's eyes were on him again. "Hi." He waved.
"Yeah, hi. I've got-" Dean fanned the card in the air. "Appointment, supposed to be a place for rent here."
Jerry couldn't remember anything for rent locally, but Dean pointed down the street towards a skinny duplex and Jerry nodded. Right, right…he'd forgotten about the odd couple who'd moved out suddenly in the middle of the night. So, Dean was moving in? Jerry smiled slowly. This was no doubt a sign. A perfectly huge and flashing-neon sign.
"So," Dean grinned. "What's the action like on Clarence Street? Any desperate semi-suburban housewives I should know about?" he asked and wiggled his eyebrows in a disturbing way.
Jerry kept smiling, even though he was experiencing the odd feeling of total exasperation mixed with the urge to punch Dean right in his face, layered with a ridiculous disappointment totally out of proportion to the time he's known Dean. "I don’t know, I'm not. I don't-"
"Sure, sure, too busy to hook up. You're not, you don't look like that kind of guy anyway," he said and Jerry was pretty sure Dean blushed a little, too.
"Sure," Jerry said and jerked his thumb behind him. "Well, that's my place," he said, just as Al and Gabe came out.
Dean did a huge double take, a convulsive two-step that nearly dropped him off the curb. "You live with-and that guy-you, you-" He stopped and took a deep breath, grabbed the bridge of his nose in a grip that looked hard enough to break it. "Cas, I'm going to kick your ass, and not even give a shit when I break my foot on it," he muttered and Jerry wondered once again how someone so weird could still be hotter than the sun.
Dean looked up at Jerry and gave him a writhing grimace probably meant to be a smile, dug a thumb against the thing hanging around his neck. Playing with it must be a nervous habit, Jerry thought. Dean caught him looking and dropped his hand, shoved it in his pocket and said, "So…roommates, hunh? They look like, like…great…guys."
Meanwhile the great guys were staring at Dean like he was a vampire cockroach or something. It took Jerry a second before he realized that they probably thought Dean was an "old friend" from back in the bad old days. Well, with the tatty leather jacket and the barely concealed sneer, he did look a little-a lot-sketchy. And those jeans, too tight across the thighs and that hole that let his knee peek out, and that worn patch under the front pocket that Jerry's finger demanded to be inserted into…oh shit. Think about something else, gross things-zombie stripper grandmas, actually sentient fingers-
Jerry could feel his cheeks turn red and Al and Gabe looked even fiercer and came off the porch like Crockett and Tubbs.
"Oh-ah! Hey, just in time to meet Dean," Jerry blurted, "You know…Ray? But not Ray, Dean. From…Pete's." Jerry wished for a brief non-fatal heart attack, just to distract everyone from staring at each other like…like…basilisks. Except for Dean, who was mouthing 'Ray?' and looking adorably confused. Jerry looked heavenward. He did not just refer to Dean as adorable. Did. Not.
Oooh," Gabe crowed, both index fingers pointed at Dean because he was subtle that way, "Ray! Right! Hey, Ray-I mean, Dean. It's nice to meet you."
Al was considerably less enthused. It was obvious from the look he gave him that Dean, though he'd been downgraded from 'vampire cockroach', was still hovering right above 'cockroach' in Al's mind. Al held his hand out and Jerry winced, already anticipating the alpha pissing match about to take place, but Dean just pumped his hand twice and let go. "Good to meet you, Al," he said.
"Guys," Jerry said, "Dean's a friend," with heavy emphasis on the friend. Al and Gabe both made the "Oh, I see," face and both looked disappointed for him. It made Jerry's chest glow warm. They were great guys.
"We're headed out to The Olive Pit, you guys wanna come with?" Gabe asked.
Dean shook his head. "I'd love to, thanks, but I gotta take care of this little matter of where to live, so…another time?"
Gabe said, "Sure, in fact, come to dinner tomorrow, why don't you? Like, a welcome to the neighborhood, thing."
"Well, that'd be great but I don’t know if they'll rent to me yet," Dean said.
"Oh, don’t worry about it," Al said, his face still sporting a sour expression. "They'll rent to anybody."
Jerry hissed and elbowed Al, and Dean just shot him a look. "Well, thanks for the heart-warming support. Jer, I'll see you tomorrow, I guess."
"Yeah, yeah, okay. Bye, Dean. Good luck," he waved and then wished he could smack himself for being a girl. Dean gave him a sideways smirk, his eyes crinkled at the corner and for some reason, Jerry could hear, "Princess," in Dean's voice, plain as if he'd actually spoken it. It kind of made Jerry want to flip him off, especially when Dean laughed before heading down the block.
"I don’t know, Jerry. I don’t trust that guy. I wish-" Al shook his head and said, "I don't want you getting hurt."
"Fuck Al, it's a little late for that. Dean is." Jerry sighed, tugged at the hem of his t-shirt and just managed to keep from wrapping it over his head and hiding from the facts. "Sadly, he's very, very straight. My luck runs true as always, right into the shitter."
"Aw, hun. Don’t say that. You found us, right?" Gabe patted him on his arm, and Al took his other side. "C'mon," Gabe said, "we'll get you extra garlic bread, okay?"
+++
Seven o'clock in the morning, Jerry jerked awake to an odd sound. It took him a second to get he was hearing thumping against the front door-that he could hear it all the way to the third floor. Someone wanted in and in a damn hurry. He could hear Al cursing and stumbling down the front hallway. He heard the front door open. He heard Dean.
"'Morning! Sleepin' in?"
He heard Al. "It's Saturday. It's seven in the morning! It's seven in the morning on a Saturday!"
"Yeah…like I said. Sleeping. In?" he head Dean repeat, like he was talking to a simple child. Shit. He leaped out of bed and struggled into a pair of flannel sleep pants and practically raced downstairs.
"Hey, Dean, hi-" Jerry belatedly realized he was at the door bare-chested, and even if Dean didn't care, it was half the way to some of Jerry's favorite fantasies. He wrapped his arms around himself and tried to look casual. "What's up?"
"I came to ask if you could give me a hand moving-I'll feed ya." He grinned like he was offering Jerry the moon. "Whatever kinda frou-frou salad you want and beer-whatya think?"
Jerry stared at him, still trying to process everything through a sleep-muzzy brain.
Al huffed quietly to himself. "I'm gonna leave you and Sunny here to your own. Going back to bed, like normal, people," he muttered, heading back for the stairs. "Man comes in all loud 'n shit like it’s the afternoon instead of the ass-crack of the morning…"
Jerry just kept grinning at Dean like they both couldn't hear Al bitching all the way back to bed.
"So-a big, fat salad in exchange for back-breaking labor?"
"Well, gosh, as tempting as that sounds, if I'm going to have to sweat, I want some goddamn meat," he said and then, "Oh, shit," when Dean's eyes widened and his lips curved in a smirk. "I mean, you know what I mean. I want burgers…or…or possibly cheesesteaks. With extra cheese. And meat. And some onions. Lots of onions. And fries too. With cheese."
"Right? Wait-what? Really?" Dean looked so shocked Jerry cracked up.
"Dean, dude-what? Are you a vegan? I mean, if you are, that's cool and all, I guess I could do a salad…I guess," Jerry said doubtfully.
"I don't-" Dean pointed at Jerry, outrage making his eyes go impossibly wider. Wide green, beautiful eyes…Jerry wrestled himself back on point, to hear Dean yelp,"-you , you look like a vegetarian kinda person."
"Yea-ah, I'm so sure." Jerry struck a muscle man pose and wiggled his eyebrows-not as elegant as Dean but he made them move somewhat. Dean coughed and looked away and Jerry remembered that he was half naked. And Dean was straight. Jerry sighed, dropped his arms. Straighter than straight, damn it.
+++
It turned out Gabe and Al ended up helping too, much to Jerry's relief. Dean didn't have all that much, so he said, but apparently, the little rented van was kind of a clown car. Every time they made a new trip to it, there was something else tucked in a corner or under a seat. Dean looked surprised and apologetic each time…and he got that funny little screw of the lips and a furrow in his forehead just like he did when he talked to himself. Jerry expected it, but Dean just shook his head and kept silent.
One of the last things that came into the apartment were a couple of boxes of books Dean and Al fished out of the finally empty van. Wonder of wonders, Al and Dean managed to thaw towards each other as Dean suckered Al into loading the book shelves with his books.
"Kurt Vonnegut? Frank Herbert-wait, you read Dune?" Al asked, his hands full of the slightly swollen paperbacks.
"All of them."
"Dude. Dude. Props. That was an act of motherfucking dedication."
Al sounded properly awed and Dean grinned. "I know, right?"
Jerry watched, kind of awestruck and totally lost. Gabe shrugged. "At least they're talking," he said when Al suddenly yelped and leaped back from the box. Gabe ducked behind Jerry-Jerry took a step back anyway, fully expecting a mouse or worse, but it seemed that Al was. Smiling. Beaming.
At Dean.
"Nostrilla. Really?"
Dean shrugged. "Hey, I got layers," he said, and winked at Jerry. Through an act of incredible willpower, Jerry managed not to giggle and blush and throw his underwear at Dean. Jerry slapped himself in the forehead when finally Dean turned away, grabbed a box and headed out to the kitchen. Damn Dean-his unfairly hot self turned Jerry into a tall and unattractive thirteen year old girl every time.
Al and Gabe left after the last plate was in the last cupboard and Jerry shrugged his jacket on, getting ready to leave with them, but Dean asked him to stay. He held up a slice of pizza. "Help me finish off this shit, dude."
They sat on the couch in the narrow living room, the TV silent in one corner, a single lamp on in the other corner. Dean kept looking around, a slightly lost, slightly stunned expression on his face. "Wow," he muttered finally.
"You look a little stymied," Jerry said.
"Stymied. Ha. Yeah, you could say that. I'm…this is a big place for one person, y'know?"
Jerry looked around the narrow living room, the tiny afterthought of a kitchen and said, "You must have lived in some small places. Not that this isn't nice," he hastened to say.
"Nah, I know, it’s just…I've never lived on my own. Well, I mean, I have…just never liked it much. I've mostly lived with my brother-" Dean stopped, stared at the beer in his hand before taking a long, serious, drink.
Jerry took a chance-it was obviously not an easy subject for Dean-and asked, "Your brother, is he…gone?"
Dean just nodded and didn’t say anything; his knuckles went white as his grip on the bottle tightened.
Jerry sighed. "I…I don’t know if I have a brother or not. I don’t remember my family."
The bottle jerked in Dean's hand, and he sat it carefully on the low table in front of them, then slumped against the couch back. "It's okay, dude. You don’t have to tell me anything."
"No, I want to. I mean, it’s not like there's a lot to tell. The first thing I remembered, the only thing at first, was the accident. I woke up in a bed in a rehab center, screaming my damn head off."
"Jer," Dean said, his sturdy, wide palmed hand coming down, warm and pleasantly rough, on Jerry's bicep. Jerry shook his head and smiled.
"I had this memory of-of flying through a car windshield but that's not right, is it, because I don't have any scars, not the kind you'd get from going face-first through a windshield, right? And the center, all they know is I showed up on their doorstep, all zombie-like, on the day an unknown benefactor had paid for rehab for a Jerry Bennett-me." At Dean's incredulous look, Jerry laughed, shook his head. "I swear to god, it's all true-like a fucking fairy tale, I know. Anyway, I went through some withdrawal there, and they didn’t even know what I was hooked on, no tracks, y'know, and I was jonesing for something bad, something, I guess, that was better than booze and pills…whatever that was."
Dean took a breath, but didn't say anything. He kept his head down, shaking it, shaking it, until Jerry wrapped his hand around Dean's wrist and pulled. "Hey, that was…that's behind me and I'm fine now, I really am. But you need to know that I'm an addict, you know? Because I want to be friends. I want to tell you the truth."
Dean still wouldn't look at Jerry, but he muttered. "It's okay. You didn't know. What's important is it's okay now."
"Yeah, sure, it's so okay you can't look at me now, but. I get it. I think…people have some kind of expectation of me that I can't meet. I'm sort of a disappointment," he said and tried to smile but couldn't quite get it to stick.
Dean's head jerked up. "No, Jerry, you're not! You've never been a disappointment to me. I mean, y'know, since I've known you, you've been a great guy, a terrific guy. Just…a really great guy who deserves a chance to have a good life and I'm sorry I'm in the way, but I just…" He stopped and shrugged. "I don’t know. I just want you to meet a great girl and get married and have tons of kids and…be happy."
Jerry's heart crashed and burned. He swallowed the flaming pieces caught in his throat. Okay, so…okay. Dean liked him. Just…he wasn't ever going to like him like that. But Jerry couldn't help feeling that Dean cared more than that. Damn it, Dean did care more; it was in his eyes and the set of his mouth whenever he met Jerry's eyes, the way he curved towards Jerry no matter where he was, like Jerry was-was-a compass point, whatever.
Jerry raked both hands through his hair and ignored the way the movement drew Dean's eyes to him. Okay. Maybe Dean didn't even know. Maybe all it needed was for Dean to get it. Jerry could kind of…coax him to see. Or get his ass handed to him but hell; it was worth it to try at least. He had to try. Tonight, though, was not the night to tell Dean he was gay. Dean obviously had stuff he had to deal with and it wasn't right to saddle him with more, not just yet. Jerry moved his hand from Dean's wrist to his elbow. "Hey. You're a great guy too. If I had a brother or sister, I hope they cared half as much as you."
Dean stood, set the bottle down and wiped his face. "Okay, dude, love ya, but I gotta throw you out now. How about I pick you up tomorrow and drop you at work? It's on my way."
"Um, sure," Jerry said, kind of startled at the rapid change of subject-and the rapid acceptance of his confession. Jerry wasn't about to look a gift horse, so he just said, "Okay, sounds good."
"Good, good-you want me to walk you back?"
"I think I'm pretty safe, Dean, half a block is not a hike and Clarence Street is not exactly Dodge City."
"Yeah, of course, right, safe, I keep forgetting…"
Jerry waved good-bye to a strangely pensive Dean standing in his apartment doorway. Dean waved back, one quick jerk of his hand, and tucked his fingers in that necklace. Jerry headed towards home. He was thoroughly confused, but hopeful that Dean really did not care about his past. Dean seemed like a stand-up guy, occasional weirdness aside.
Jerry sighed. He's come out of whatever hell he'd been in remarkable unscathed-clean, healthy once he'd totally kicked, not too beat up, only one weird tattoo that someone had told him not to worry about because it really was not satanic at all, and with all his teeth…Jerry unlocked the front door to their house and quietly padded up the stairs in his sock feet. He stripped and stretched out on his bed, and thought of Dean. Dean, with the weird way he ran hot and cold, his unfounded belief that Jerry was a good guy, his occasional bursts of oddness and to call it that was being charitable....
The man was a fucking-a fucking riddle wrapped inside an enigma wrapped inside a-a-a taco. Or something.
Jerry refused to let Dean's probable non-interest keep him from being friends. It worked-they were friends. And that was great…just, since Dean wandered into his life he hadn't really looked at any other guys. He'd seen interest in other guys, noticed the way they looked at him-and some of those guys were insanely hot. But he couldn't bring himself to act on it. Because there was a stupid part of his brain that kept telling him he was Dean's. No one had to tell him just how stupid that was.
At some point while he'd been angsting against the counter like a Harlequin heroine, Dean had slipped into the shop and taken a table against the back wall. He had his sunglasses shoved up on his forehead and looked like he'd had a spectacularly bad night. He had circles under his eyes and his eyes were so red, the green of his irises looked artificial. Jerry walked over, frowning in concern for Dean.
"Dude, what the hell? Are you okay?" Dean looked up at him, and Jerry took a step back. He lusted after Dean, sure, but not enough lust in the world could make up for standing in a puddle of puke. "Erg. You've got puke face."
Dean shook his head. "Not sick, man, just. Jer, dude…can I get a black coffee, the biggest you got? Fuck." He rubbed at his eyes and dug a thumb into his temple trying to massage out what Jerry figured had to be a fucker of a hangover, from the looks of things.
"Coming up-I'll bring it to you."
Dean looked at him with eyes so full of gratitude that Jerry pinked up a little. It was nice to have Dean look at him like that, like he was someone important, even if just for a moment. "You're a good guy, Jer. Thanks. I've got a while before my shift starts and I need that caffeine."
He came back with coffee and heard Dean arguing with someone on the phone. "Yes, you should bring me back-I'll just mess things-yes, I've been getting the care-packages, Mom-no, I don’t mean-no, really I do appreciate-I gotta go."
"Was that your…mother?" Jerry frowned. Odd, Dean didn't seem the type to check in with his mother. Beside, that was a not very nice tone to take with one's mother. If he had a mom he wouldn't treat her like that…and then he remembered that he was an addict and god knows how he treated his mother.
"Unh, yeah. Mom. Mom's a pain in the ass," he began, but when Jerry looked askance he went on, "but a great old gal. Just great."
"Hmm. So, what's all this, then," Jerry's gesture encompassed all of wrinkly, slightly smelly and purple bags-under-his eyes-Dean, "-the wages of sin?"
"What? Oh. Not booze, just…research. For this job I'm on."
"I thought you were a mechanic."
"Did I say? I don’t remember saying."
"I…didn't you? I thought…maybe I assumed."
"Could be, you ass. Anyway, yeah."
"What kind of research does a mechanic do?"
Dean gave Jerry a twisted little look of annoyance that made Jerry smirk. "We research! I'm looking for a carburetor for a '67 Chevy Impala…" Dean made with the strange little hesitation thing he did from time to time, like Jerry was supposed to do something. He smiled wryly when Jerry just shrugged.
"You mean like that car the Dukes of Hazard drove, right, the General Sherman or what-"
"No! God. That was a '69 Dodge Charger and it was the General Lee for fuck's sake! Didn't you ever watch the show?"
"I…no? I liked old movies-like, old black and white movies.
"The Mummy? Dracula? Like that?"
"Yeah, and Casablanca and the Maltese Falcon and D.O.A. and-"
Dean grinned at him, wide and happy and the shadows under his eyes paled, and his eyes went a dark mossy green and Jerry liked that, a lot. A lot. "Okay, so your taste isn't all in your ass." His eyes wandered to the counter where Adrie was trying not to stare. "Like, I know you've got to be trying to tap that."
"No, not really, Mr. Enlightened."
"Dude, Jerry, I'm embarrassed for you! Step up, ask her out. Trust me. You guys, you're…you look like you're made for each other." And he gave Adrie a look so sad, so sweet that Jerry's heart broke right in two.
Oh. He got it. Now he knew why Dean came every day to Pete's, and hung around the counter longer than he had to, why he talked to Jerry all the time. Jerry felt like an idiot. Hated the hot punch in the center of his chest. It was stupid anyway. Wasn't like he like liked Dean, he only lusted after him. Period, end of story. It was just a stupid crush. All he'd been hoping for was a couple of blowjobs, not roses and candlelight dinners and walks on the stupid beach. Bitch. He swallowed it all down and forced a grin.
"Nah, Adrie's not exactly my type." Dean started to protest but Jerry talked right over it. "She's a great girl though, she really is. And she's hot, yeah. Just…I'm looking for something else." And again, he'd said something somehow to piss Dean off, the damn primadonna. "What?"
"Nothing…something different, hunh? Like what?" Dean scowled. "Who? The new chick?"
"No, not Ginny and no one you know at all. And not your business, Dean. My private life isn't your concern."
Dean froze, his face going a little pale. "Yeah, I know that," he said and it sounded like he'd pulled the words over ground glass. He stood abruptly. "Gotta go. I gotta call my-my-mom."
Jerry waved him off, and sighed. Failure, yes, what had just occurred was pretty much the definition of it. He dropped his head, scrubbed his hands over his face.
"Yo, loser-you work here or not?"
"Coming," he sighed. The new girl, Ginny, got a bit on his nerves sometimes. She was hysterical in small doses but had a tendency to overly-sarcastic comments on…everything. Still, in the interest of a harmonious workplace, he put up with her shit and occasional bouts of moodiness. And to be honest, most of the time, she was good company. Just, not now.
He was filling the coffee maker with water when Adrie propped her chin on his shoulder, wobbly on her tiptoes. "So? Why so pensive, Spike?"
"Hey, Adrie…so. Dean, he… the way he was looking at you today…well. He's definitely not batting for my team. He, unh, really likes you. You should ask him out because he's really kinda sweet and too shy to do it himself and…and." Jerry sighed, and hoped Adrie didn't notice how his voice shook. He blinked a few times. God. Fuck Dean for turning him into that massive thirteen year old girl again….
"Oh. Oh sweetie. Oh shit. That…that sucks. For fuck's sake, I can't go out with him, not when you-"
"No, no. Don't even think that. Listen, it would make Dean happy and I'm stupid enough to think that's all that matters. So…it's okay. Okay?" Jerry worked up a smile and dropped it when Adrie winced. "Really."
"If you're sure…"
Jerry nodded and kissed her forehead, and then grabbed a cloth and went to wipe down the tables.
Ginny was leaning against a table when he looked up, wrapping a long strand of chestnut hair around her finger. She smiled at him, part leer, part sympathy. "Hey, if it's not happening with you and Adrie, I've got a great way to get over it-lots of greasy popcorn, movies full of blowing shit up, it could be fun-"
"I'm gay," he said and pushed past her.
Later that night, he felt like shit about the way he'd been with her and figured he'd have to do something nice to make up for being a douche. As soon as he could think about anything but the phone call he'd gotten from Adrie that evening.
"Dean and I are going out-you're sure it's okay? I can still tell him no," she'd said.
"No," he'd replied. "You enjoy. And…and tell me all about it, okay?"
He'd hung up swearing that if she actually did, he was going to drive a straw right into his brain.
+++
Adrie met him at the diner around the block from Pete's. She was smiling; waved him over and Jerry went, feeling like a guy about to stand in front of a firing squad, only no last cigarette, no blindfold. Adrie should front him a last meal at least.
"Jerry." She stopped, carefully spooned sugar into her coffee. She gazed thoughtfully at Jerry as she popped open a creamer and added it too. "Jerry, I met Dean last night-right here actually."
"You went to a diner on a first date?" Jerry said. "Wow, Dean's a little more socially retarded than I'd thought."
She laughed. "Date? Hon, I don’t think Dean knew we were on a date. He pretty much spent the whole time talking about you," she smiled ruefully. "He doesn't know you're gay?"
Jerry bit his lip and shook his head no, the swirls of cream in his coffee suddenly very, very interesting.
"So, that totally explains why he spent all the evening talking you up to me. And just plain talking about you."
"Really?" Jerry couldn’t help a quick smile before feeling bad for Adrie.
"Hey, I'm. I don't know what to say. That sucks. I'm sorry."
"Sweetie-it's awesome. He's got to have some kind of interest, whether he gets that's what he's feeling or not, right? Right?" She dipped her head, trying to meet Jerry's downcast eyes. "Give it another chance, Jerry."
Jerry sighed. "I've got to tell him, I guess."
She nodded, and they spent the last few minutes of their dinner date in silence, sipping coffee and staring out at the street….
PART TWO