play crack the sky [3/3]
Jack’s making coffee in the morning when he feels Alex hug him from behind and kiss his shoulder blade sloppily. He leans back, resting his hands over top of Alex’s as he closes his eyes. He doesn’t even mind that Alex’s hair is damp from the shower and dripping all over his shoulder and down his back; they stand like that until the coffee’s ready and even then Alex keeps a tight grip on his waist. “Are we okay?” Alex asks, mouthing along his jaw worriedly.
“Yeah, we’re okay,” he confirms, tipping his head back to give his boyfriend better access to his neck. At the same time, Alex’s fingers dip down under the waistband of his boxers, rubbing circles into his hip. They haven’t had sex in a month. For fuck’s sake, all Alex has wanted to do the past couple of weeks is lie around and bitch about everything under the sun. First he was tired all the time and wanted to be left alone. Then he couldn’t sleep and still wanted to left alone. He wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t shower, would barely even speak to anyone and it’s been... It’s been lonely, and frustrating, and Jack doesn’t even care about the sexual frustration part of that equation anymore. He hates seeing Alex like that and never wants it to happen again. “Are, are you okay?” he asks, twisting around so that he can sit on the counter and pull Alex between his legs.
“I love you,” Alex whispers, nuzzling into his neck suddenly even though Jack has already picked up on the tears shimmering in his eyes.
He says “I love you too” and buries his face in Alex’s hair. “Does this mean you’re feeling better?” At this point, he’s hopeful but has learned not to expect much. Alex’s body is warm and familiar but also a little strange after weeks of sleeping on the couch most nights before creeping back upstairs after Alex has fallen asleep. He doesn’t sleep well on his own and it’s weird to wake up without his boyfriend next to him. They stay like that until the coffee is long past cold, hugging in the middle of the kitchen. Rian walks past grumbling about the two of them being nymphomaniacs, but he doesn’t even care anymore.
Alex pulls away from him, smiling sheepishly. “Need to take my pills,” he mumbles, reaching up past Jack’s shoulder for the tall brown bottle. He shakes out two of the small yellow capsules and dry swallows them with a tiny grimace. It’s the first morning in a week that Jack hasn’t reminded him. Yeah, it’s a small thing, but it’s progress. Then he presses himself against Jack again. “Can you come home early tonight?” His voice sounds so small and uncertain. Oh, fuck. They don’t need any more bad news.
Automatic reaction: Jack kisses his temple and asks, “What’s wrong, babe?”
“Nothin’.” Alex smiles softly, leans up, and catches his lips affectionately. “I just want to be with you and, um, make up for being so difficult while I figured this shit out.” It takes him a few seconds to figure out the double meaning. He’s a bit slow in the mornings and hasn’t had any coffee yet. The inside of Alex’s mouth tastes like peppermint Scope and sleep. God, he’s missed this so much. There have been so many doctor’s appointments and trips to the psychiatrist and frustrated trips to the store trying to find something they can actually agree on for dinner.
“Do you two ever fucking stop?” Rian grumbles, rummaging in the fridge for his carton of orange juice. Alex flips him off before backing Jack up against the counter again and kissing him deeply. “Seriously guys, I want to make some toast so take it upstairs if you’re going to do that.”
“Later,” Alex promises, rubbing his cheek against Jack’s neck. “You have class and I’ve got assignments to catch up on first.” There’s another kiss on the front step later, when Alex walks Jack to the bus stop - because he’s kind of too lazy to walk ten minutes to campus when there’s a bus stop twenty feet from their house - and then another in the bus shelter while they wait for the bus to arrive. It’s always late. Jack is pretty fucking thrilled that Alex is feeling better finally. Better late than never. Not just about the bus. He’s tired of worrying all the time. They’re going to be okay.
The rest of the day passes in a kind of blur - he’s not really paying attention even though he knows he shouldn’t get too excited about the possibility of sex until he actually gets home and finds out what kind of mood Alex is in. But, it’s still one of the better mornings they’ve had in a while, so it’s a little encouraging. He cuts his evening class; it’s just a dumb film elective so he doesn’t really need to be there. When he gets home, Rian is very conveniently not there. The sound from the stereo carries all the way downstairs, so once he’s dropped his stuff by the front door he goes up to their room and finds Alex lying in bed, naked from - at the very least - the waist up watching the Discovery channel.
“Hey,” he says, sliding out of his jeans and yanking his shirt over his head. “How do you feel?”
Alex curls up against him, kissing his neck softly. “Pretty good. I mean, I don’t feel bad but I don’t feel like going out and running a marathon either? But I’m not, like, super down or anything if that’s what you mean. I just... I miss you.” He gets under the covers, pleasantly surprised to feel Alex’s bare legs brush against his. They start making out without any further discussion.
At first he’s not terribly excited by it, which is an awful thought but semi-necessary to keep himself from being disappointed if Alex changes his mind about it later. It’s hard to be pessimistic, though, when Alex’s tongue is sliding against his own and they’re groping at each other like a couple of fumbling high school kids, grinding their hips together for relief. Considering he hasn’t had sex in over a month, it’s about ten minutes before he’s whimpering at every touch. The good news is that it seems to be having the same effect - oh thank God, if there is a God that really exists - on Alex. It’s been extremely hit and miss since he’s been on Paxil, but this is encouraging. This is very encouraging.
Which is why he squeaks a little when Alex pulls away, afraid that he’s going to get cock-blocked by his boyfriend’s medication yet again. “No, no, it’s okay,” Alex murmurs, rubbing at his hip seductively. “Don’t go anywhere, just...” He’s pretty sure his eyes light up like a kid in a candy store when he realizes that Alex is reaching over into their sex drawer for the lube. Alex laughs and kisses him lightly before pressing the bottle into his hand. Yeah, he doesn’t need to be told what to do with that. The lube is cold on his fingers - fuck, it’s lube and it’s been sitting in a drawer for a month, of course it’s going to feel cold - but then he pushes them into Alex, who’s lying on his back with his legs spread, and it’s fucking magical.
“Shit,” he groans, moving his fingers back and shifting his wrist to get a better angle. Alex makes a small, shaky noise but doesn’t stop him, so he pushes them in further, pressing up until they brush Alex’s prostate - and he always, always knows when he’s found it because Alex’s entire body shivers and he makes this sound. Since he’s accomplished that feat he knows it’s okay to start scissoring his fingers a little. “Oh fuck.” Then, Alex’s hands are on him and it’s a serious task not to come right then and there. Hands and mouth and fingers fucking everywhere, all over his body.
Alex shoves his hands away and looks at him with this very annoyed expression on his face. “If you don’t fuck me now I’m seriously going to make you sleep downstairs tonight.”
Jack doesn’t need to be told twice. Very, very cautiously he lubes himself up - it’s kind of necessary because he really doesn’t want to sleep on the couch again - and then before Alex can yell at him again he pushes in slowly, eliciting a fucking pornographic moan from his boyfriend. It’s not exactly the most amazing they’ve ever had. He lasts under a minute, seriously, because Alex is tight as hell from a month of no sex and he’s way too horny for his own good. Probably should’ve gone easy on the fingering, he thinks in his post-orgasm haze. But he’s not that inconsiderate - he takes the time to jerk Alex off, too, before collapsing in a sweaty heap on his side of the bed. “What,” he pants when Alex pokes his cheek, grinning brightly.
“That was officially the shortest time it’s ever taken you to finish,” Alex chuckles. “Seriously, it was like DICK. HOLES. BOUNCE BOUNCE BOUNCE. ORGASM. END.”
“I haven’t had sex in a month, what do you expect.” He wipes his hand on a dirty shirt lying on the floor near the bed before wrapping himself around Alex. They make out lazily for a while before Alex starts yawning and stretching all over him like... well, kind of like a little sassy cat thing. “Go to sleep, babe,” he sighs, brushing his lips over Alex’s cheek. “And if you ever utter those words again you’re going to be the one sleeping on the couch, just so you know.”
&
The scene goes as follows: They’re sitting around the dining room table for Sunday dinner. His mother and father are each immaculately dressed; they’re eating off the good dishes and both parents are drinking an expensive red wine. Danny’s sitting there in his sweats and a hoodie, hasn’t showered since Thursday night, and he’s drinking his own wine straight from the box. His plate of half-eaten food is still sitting in front of him. All he’s done, pretty much, is push it around with his fork and eat the potatoes. They don’t need to say anything for him to know that they’re judging him. Finally, his mother clears her throat noisily. “Hem-hem! I would appreciate it if you’d take your hat off at the table,” she says in that annoyingly fake voice. Her real voice - the one she uses when she’s angry - is about two octaves lower.
“No,” he grumbles. He’s sort of picked up the beanie-wearing habit from Alex. In return, Alex has somehow managed to steal about half of his wardrobe without him noticing. Irritably, he pulls his beanie down over his ears and chugs the rest of his wine even though it tastes completely awful. Why are they so dressed up to eat a meal in their own home? It’s not like forcing him to have dinner with them once a week actually promotes family togetherness if none of them speak to each other.
“Take your hat off, please,” his father says tersely. They’re both sitting there staring at him, and all he can think about is how fucking insincere the whole scene is. They’re supposed to be this very well-to-do family, but his parents don’t even sleep in the same bedroom and they’ve got him taking these classes he doesn’t even care about. If he has to keep up the facade any longer, he’s going to scream. He doesn’t want to take his fucking hat off. Maybe Matt’s right about him trying to make everybody happy - maybe he’s trying too hard to please everyone but himself - and it’s that thought that inspires him to make his next statement. Since apparently not speaking to any of his high school friends, hanging out with a group of people so far from the circles his family is ‘supposed’ to run in they don’t even inhabit the same planet, and getting tattoos and piercing his nose isn’t enough of an indicator to them, he’s finally going to do the one thing that will distance himself from his fucking pretentious family for good.
He sits up very straight and looks his mother directly in the eye. She’s the one who pulls the strings in this house; he and his father are just puppets under her control. It’s fucking terrifying. Then he spreads his hands out on the table, palms down, and says very calmly, “I’m switching my major to music.” He doesn’t flinch when the fork drops out of his mother’s hand and clatters onto the plate loudly. It’s been a month since he kissed Matt at that party and - as much as he hates to admit it - Matt was kind of right about a lot of things. He’s really not happy.
“No, you’re not,” his mother says. Out comes the angry voice. “I thought we agreed you were going to pick political science as your major.”
He fights the urge to curl his hands into fists or to press his hands together. One of the things - about the only useful thing - he learned in psychology lecture was about body language. She’s not going to have the upper hand this time. With the same unbearable calmness, he says “We didn’t agree on anything. You told me what to do and I’m not going to listen to you.”
Before either of his parents can say anything else to him, he stands up and walks away in pretty much the quintessential teenage rebellion stomp-out, complete with bedroom door-slamming. He’s maybe a little bit irritable since he’s been awake for most of the past seventy-two hours practicing for his audition to see if he’ll get accepted into the music program at all in the morning. Who the fuck is Danny Kurily these days? All he cares about is his friends and his guitars and the one time he made out with a guy who hates him at a party. He’s probably going to bomb his audition completely. His parents probably aren’t going to pay for next year’s tuition so he’ll probably have to find a job for the summer. Surprisingly, he’s not upset about it. It might actually gain him some credibility with certain people, come to think of it.
Not that he’s still thinking of ways to impress Matt or anything. That would be stupid. Especially since the guy doesn’t talk to him and they’re currently going out of their way to avoid each other. He knows better than to ever bring it up again.
&
“Are you going to tell me why you’re in such a foul mood these days or can I safely assume that this has something to do with Danny?” Jeff asks. Matt flips him off, shifting the weight of the case of beer he’s carrying inside on his hip awkwardly. He doesn’t fucking want to talk about it. “C’mon, Mickey. You can’t keep denying that you feel something for him. I can tell that you do.”
“What part of ‘I don’t want to talk about it’ didn’t get through to you the last eight times you’ve tried to start this conversation with me?” he sighs. “I don’t like him. End of story.”
Jeff rolls his eyes. “You’re being impossible and classist.”
He sets the case down under the counter and then hops up to sit on the bar with his feet hanging down like a little kid would. “I’m not being classist, I just don’t like him. He irritates me. I dislike his personality, his clothes and his stupid haircut.” Which he probably shouldn’t have said because Jeff’s eyes light up and the bastard starts grinning at him. This is why he hates volunteering for overtime; he has to help unload the trucks that deliver everything to the venue and it has the added bonus of Jeff harassing him about fucking Kurily all the time. For some reason, despite the fact that it is completely fuckin’ untrue, Jeff seems to be under the mistaken impression that he has deep-seated feelings of repressed longing toward the little shit. The only thing he longs to do to the kid is tell him to fuck off forever, maybe.
“But you did notice his haircut.”
“Eat shit, Maker. That means nothing.” Yeah. He’s just been taking the bus to work again and avoiding the places where he knows Danny will be because he doesn’t want to deal with the situation. It’s not so bad, really. There’s one guy who takes the bus frequently at the same time he does that seems pretty nice, in an ‘I’d like to ass-rape you in a dark alley where no one can hear you screaming’ kind of way. Just because he made one fucking comment about Kurily’s new douchey haircut does not mean anything. They haven’t had an actual conversation since the beginning of the semester and he’s quite okay with that trend continuing.
He notices a lot of things, though. Like how Evan’s still texting the mysterious person who is definitely not his girlfriend and how Jack and Alex are doing better these days. He’s even - mostly - gotten over his intense hatred of anyone who tries to get with his best friend; Rian’s a decent guy and he probably won’t fuck things up too badly. Grieco is oblivious to Rian’s huge fucking crush, however. He and Jeff unload the rest of the deliveries in silence. It still feels like he’s being silently judged by Jeff’s eyebrows. Every time he glances over at the road he half-expects Danny’s shitty car to be sitting there waiting to pick him up and drive him home. Sometimes they even got coffee on the way there. And, like, Starbucks instead of the shitty watered-down kind they sell next door to the venue. He will never, ever say that out loud to anyone, but he does miss the coffee. Once, they just sat in the parking lot behind Starbucks and drank their over-priced drinks and listened to the Sex Pistols together in silence. That was actually kind of nice.
Now Kurily generally stomps around campus with his guitar case and he always looks tired and cranky. He cut all his hair off and he’s started wearing the same idiotic beanies that Alex does. Either he’s going through some kind of existential life crisis or he finally stood up to his parents about the whole music thing... Possibly both. It’s a lot less satisfying than he thought it would feel. Mostly, when he sees Danny coming out of the corner of his eye, he just feels strangely twitchy and sulky. When they’ve locked up for the night, he sort of wishes he didn’t have to take the bus home. It would be awesome to get more than four or five hours’ sleep before he has to paste on a smile while he waits tables for minimum wage plus tips. “See you tomorrow night,” he says to Jeff.
“You know, you could take a day off once in a while and it wouldn’t kill you,” Jeff tells him.
He groans. “No, but I’d be very hungry.” There’s a container full of cold mac and cheese waiting for him at home unless Evan has eaten it all. He can’t remember ever feeling this miserable about anything. They live on pasta and free food from various events on campus and he takes the bus everywhere in the cold and the dark and the rain. As much as it pains him to admit, his life may have been slightly less crappy with Kurily in it. At least then he had someone to drive him around, even if it was annoying as hell that he never got to pay for his own shit then. Which, actually. In retrospect wasn’t the worst thing in the world.
&
Matt comes home later than usual and, from what Evan can tell, he goes straight to bed. It’s a good thing because he’s not exactly alone in bed and doesn’t want to deal with the fallout when, inevitably, someone clues in to what’s going on and chews him out for it. He knows, okay? He knows that it’s probably completely inadvisable to be carrying on a sexual relationship with his best friend while still dating his girlfriend. He knows that it’s unfair to both of them, but he doesn’t know what to do. As time goes on it’s become glaringly obvious that he’s putting more effort into this... affair... than he has during his entire relationship with her. It’s only going to be riskier as the summer months drag on. He should just... put an end to things before they can carry on any further. It would be the responsible thing to do, right?
He’s almost asleep when he hears a commotion from Matt’s room. A few seconds later, the light in the kitchen goes off and he can see Matt stalking across the living room to dump his - presumably dirty - sheets in the hamper. “Fuck you, Evan,” Matt grumbles, leaning against the frame of his bedroom door.
“Still pretending you’re not having wet dreams about somebody you claim to hate?” he jokes. Vinny makes an annoyed sound when he sits up and turns on the light.
Matt scowls and says, “Still pretending you’re not cheating on your girlfriend then? People in glass houses, man. Glass. fucking. houses. And it was not a wet dream! It was just,” he flails uselessly with his hands, “A thing. Oh, hey Vinny. Tell Evan he’s a fuckin’ douchebro for cheating on Ashley.”
Vinny can barely hide his laughter. “Ev, you’re a douchebro. Also you were totally having a wet dream, Flyzik, don’t even lie. You’ve wanted to bone Danny ever since that party. Seriously. Do us all a favour and just have a night of majestic hate-sex with him and get over it already.” They’re doing a surprisingly good job of pretending that everything is normal for two guys who very nearly got caught in the act. If Matt had come home ten minutes earlier... Fuck. Too close for comfort. He’s suddenly very glad to be part of a group of friends that sleep in the same bed on a regular basis, or this would be the part where Matt starts shouting ‘J’accuse!’ and brands him with a scarlet A forever.
“I hate you both,” Matt growls before stomping back to his own bedroom.
Once they’re sure he’s gone to bed - easy to tell since he’s so loud when he’s awake, what with all the stomping and banging around - Vinny looks at him and says, “Well, that could’ve gotten awkward really fast.” Thank God for small miracles; he’s not sure how Matt didn’t pick up on it considering there are clothes lying all over the floor and it smells distinctly of sex. The question hangs unasked in the air, though; Vinny pulls him back down and kisses him before he can say that maybe they shouldn’t be doing this anymore. He can’t exactly say no to this. It feels too good to stop.
The first few times it was awkward as hell and they both laughed a lot. Now it’s just... They hang out for a while and drink, then one of them will initiate it and they end up having sex. It’s not even like it can really be considered cheating. “Mmmf,” he sighs when they pull apart. The words come out before he can check himself; he’s been stoppering up these feelings for weeks and they kind of burst out. “Love you.”
“’Kay,” Vinny yawns. “Will you drive me home in the morning so I can shower?”
Evan looks at him and feels that familiar mix of fondness and frustration. “Yeah,” he says finally. “You know, you could leave some stuff here if you wanted to...” It’s a very roundabout way of asking if he thinks things are getting kind of serious between them. It feels like they are. Vinny shrugs and looks at him in a way that distinctly reads as ‘You’re insane but I think I like it’.
“Dude, we’re not going to start taking showers together, are we? Because that might be a little too gay even for us,” Vinny mutters. The thing is that he’s not even being sarcastic. Having sex is one thing, but showering together is just a little too intimate for comfort. He loves the guy, but at the same time, there are probably some things he’s better off not knowing about his best friend. What if Vinny’s one of those people who sings in the shower and his singing is off-key? Evan is not prepared to deal with that. It’s a little thing, but crappy singing is a deal-breaker for him. Not that he’s consciously planning on making this a continuing thing, but it’s something he has to think about. Or maybe he’s just looking for an exit strategy because he can’t cope with the guilt anymore.
&
The first day of his second year of college is remarkably like his first. Jack and Alex shepherd him off to the appropriate area and he’s still just as nervous as he was last year because he’s in an entirely different faculty with different classrooms and buildings and people to deal with. It’s intimidating as hell because all the other music majors already know each other and have had an entire year to work out their group dynamic; he knows a grand total of Rian and Grieco. Who aren’t actually of that much use to him anyway since they’re too busy trying to pretend they’re not desperately in love with each other... The only advantage he’s got is because he did a year of general studies last year, he won’t have to take a lot of electives this year so he can catch up quickly. Before he can sneak quietly off to one of the practice rooms before his first actual music class, though, Jack and Alex grab him and haul him off to the cafeteria.
“Where d’you think you’re going, Kurily?” Alex says, catching him by the elbow.
He nearly does a face-plant into one of the trees in the middle of the quad but stops himself in time. “I was going to get some practice in before my first music class?” he replies, shifting his messenger bag on his shoulder so he won’t almost fall over again. It’s not like he’s trying to avoid his friends on purpose; he’d just rather not endure Matt’s cold silence if he doesn’t have to.
Alex glares at him. “You can’t avoid him forever, you know. It’s stupid that you’re trying to when it’s kind of obvious that you’re stupid about him.”
“Stupid about who?” Jack asks, pressing himself against Alex’s other side. “You guys never tell me anything. I swear I’m the last to know everything that happens with you guys.” Today, he’s got a lovingly drawn penis on his forearm that can only be Alex’s handiwork. Real classy. “Danny, man, I didn’t even know you were dating anyone.”
“He’s not,” Alex says before he can protest. “He’s in love with Matt, though.”
Great. His arms are either in Alex’s surprisingly strong but bony grip or hanging onto his guitar case, meaning he can’t give Alex the punch he so obviously deserves for that remark. “I hate you,” he groans, gritting his teeth so hard it hurts. “And I am not stupid about him! You’re an idiot.”
When they get to their table, he freezes up a little bit. God-fucking-dammit. Matt looks at him appraisingly and goes, “Wow, you actually look like less of a douche this year. Good job.”
“Uh, was that supposed to be a compliment?” He slides in between Matt and Grieco so he can glare across the table at his alleged ‘best friends’. This is so, so painfully awkward. He’s not going to say anything about it if Matt’s not. Part of him had been hoping that the summer would allow things to mellow out a little bit, but he still feels uptight, tense, and like his heart is going to leap out of his throat onto the table at any moment. Their thighs kind of press together on the bench and it’s all he can do not to jump out of his skin.
Matt says, very evenly, “I have to be nice to you so I can borrow Evan’s car.”
“Good to know; I was worried you forgot who I was for a second and mistook me for someone you actually like. Glad we got that cleared up.”
Alex kicks him under the table and hisses, “Be nice.” Then, Alex proceeds to pretend he’s done nothing at all and busies himself with his boyfriend’s mouth.
“So,” Danny says awkwardly. “Um, good summer?” It’s better to try and act like this is normal, right? Grieco’s not even paying attention to him - some stupid discussion with Rian about drumsticks and cymbals and things he’s never going to need to know about - and he’d really rather not join in on the discussion about the benefits of bronzers at the other end of the table. He can safely say that no, he’s never felt the urge to get that ‘sun-kissed’ look.
Matt shrugs. “It was, you know. Worked a lot, hung out with Grieco. I’m sure you have some fabulous story about your family’s vacation to your private island in the Caribbean though, so you might as well get on with it.”
“Actually... I kind of just worked all summer.” He’s still got the last remnants of a sunburn on his shoulders; he spent the last month helping Evan’s dad with a bunch of construction jobs and it was a lot harder than he expected. It feels good to be able to say, though. And he does feel a certain sense of smugness when he takes in Matt’s surprised expression.
“... Oh.”
Then he remembers something he’d been wondering about for a while and lowers his voice. “Hey, did you ever find out who Evan was...?” he whispers.
“You really think I wanted to know any more about his sex life? Every time I ask him about it he just says he’s texting Vinny.” Matt wrinkles his nose and sighs. “Like I’m actually going to believe that.”
Evan cuts into their side conversation by saying, “Hey, since you guys are such good friends now, you can give Matt a ride to work later ‘cause I’ve got a date.”
“... Fuck you, Evan,” he grumbles.
He shouldn’t have worried about it being awkward, though. The rest of the day passes without event - ‘without event’ meaning that he and Matt don’t fight and behave like civilized human beings to each other. At the end of the day he sits in his car with the windows down and waits for Matt to come out of the humanities building. It’s a familiar event that’s somehow unfamiliar; it’s been months since he’s driven Matt to work. He changes the CD in the stereo five or six times before his passenger appears, looking annoyed.
“Is it necessary for freshmen to stand in the middle of campus fucking giggling?”
Danny starts the car. “I don’t think they’re very discriminating about where they choose to stand and giggle. It’s the freshman imperative.” When Matt goes to touch the settings on his stereo, instinctively, he reaches out to slap the other man’s hand away. It’s sort of frightening how quickly they’ve fallen back into this routine. “Hey, um,” he says. “If you ever need a ride anywhere, you can. Uh. You can call me and I’ll come.”
“Yeah, okay. Listen, so the football game Sunday. Grieco and I, we’re watching it at my place if you want to, like. This is stupid. You probably don’t even want to come. You probably want to sit at Jack and Alex’s and drink PBR or whatever.”
“Oh, bullshit, you just don’t want anyone to see you cry when the Eagles lose to the Ravens.”
“That was my allergies! I wasn’t crying, fuck. You’re a dick.” And then Matt changes his CD anyway; he doesn’t complain. It’s too weird that they’re not fighting. He doesn’t want to screw that up now. Besides, he was kind of feeling more like blink-182 than Duran Duran.
&
Evan sits on the side of the bathtub watching Matt shave. “You know, you should probably just tell him that you like him so the rest of us can stop feeling awkward about your sexual frustration,” he says. But he’s one to talk since he barely even looks up from his iPhone as he speaks; he’s got that very definite ‘I’m texting my mistress and she’s saying sexy things to me but I’m pretending not to be turned on for your sake’ look about him. “I mean, you’re shaving for him. The least you could do is not wear that shitty baseball cap for once.”
“You’re full of shit, you know that? At least pretend not to be texting one of your girlfriends while you’re sitting in the bathroom with me. And for the record, I am not shaving for him. Some of us can actually grow facial hair and don’t want to look like dwarves about to journey off to Mordor to destroy the One Ring with Frodo.”
“For the record, I’m texting Vinny, so you can pull the stick out of your ass, dipshit.”
Matt runs some water over his toothbrush to dampen the toothpaste before scrubbing his teeth vigorously, pulling faces at the mirror to ensure he’s reached all of those particularly tricky spots. “Lggh ah b-leev urgh teh-tig Vi’hy,” he says through his mouthful of toothpaste.
Evan looks at him as if he’s got rocks in his head. “I’m sleeping with Vinny,” he says quietly.
Matt nearly chokes on his toothbrush trying not to laugh. “Seriously, your jokes aren’t funny, Ev. If you don’t want to tell me what’s going on with you, I’m not going to make you, but for Chrissake, at least come up with a better lie than that.” He spits the remainder of his toothpaste into the sink and proceeds to rinse with mouthwash. Because... fuckin’ bacteria. It’s not like he’s trying to impress anyone. It’s just going to be him and Grieco. Well, and Kurily, but he’s trying not to think about that because every time he does he gets this feeling in his chest like he can’t breathe.
“Fine,” Evan mutters, “Don’t say I didn’t try to tell you. I’m gonna go to the house, but I’ll see you later if you haven’t already gone to bed. Enjoy your date!” Grieco arrives as Evan’s leaving, so he doesn’t even get a chance to come up with an appropriate rebuttal to that statement. It’s not what it looks like. He’s not trying to impress anyone.
“New jeans?” Grieco asks.
“For fuck’s sake, will everybody hop off my dick! I’m not trying to impress anyone, this isn’t a date and I am not fucking trying to get on better terms with Kurily so can we just leave it alone for one second please.” Before he can say anything else stupid - or have another outburst - he retreats to the bathroom to floss. It’s important. It’s an excuse to not have to talk so he can rein in his stupid emotions before they make him do something he’ll regret later on.
His subconscious is seriously fuckin’ trying to kill him or something. All day, in the back of his mind, has been that stupid party and that stupid kiss and he doesn’t want to think about it anymore. He’s tired of remembering it. By the time he’s decently presentable, the game is just about to start and Kurily has turned up. Whoosh, there goes all the air out of his lungs.
“Hey,” he says, feeling self-conscious without his hat. This is the last time he listens to Evan about anything. Ever. He feels naked.
“Ready to watch the Eagles lose?”
He’s really not that annoyed when Danny yanks on his shirt, but he says “Eat shit, Kurily,” anyway so as not to break with tradition. Before he can do anything else awkward, he decides he’d better sit down and plants himself next to Grieco, who he’s planning to use as a human shield. If, y’know, anything should happen that he isn’t open to. Like making out. That would be... It might not be the worst thing in the world, but it’s also not something that’s going to be happening today, in this apartment, when his roommate isn’t home and Grieco mumbled something about going to see Rian when he came in earlier. It seems like Danny’s going out of his way to touch him, too, which is all kinds of weird and makes him feel incredibly awkward.
It only gets worse from there. He can’t even concentrate on the game because he’s so horribly aware of the man sitting next to him and the fact that this was a completely awful idea. The couch isn’t even designed for three people to sit on! So they’re sitting there all sandwiched together and he feels all... painfully aware of Danny’s thigh touching his. Maybe they should make out or something just to kill the tension. Not that, like. He wants to, or anything. It’s kind of the only option. And it wasn’t exactly bad the last time; he’s definitely made out with other people and enjoyed it much less.
He’s incredibly relieved when Grieco excuses himself from the awkwardness to go hang out with Rian for a while. Yeah, he kind of owes his best friend big-time for this. Then, he spends the rest of the half sitting there wondering how he’s supposed to make a move on someone he’s spent all of his time up until now hating. It’s a lot more difficult than he thought it would be. Most of his ideas regarding this particular topic revolve around heated arguments turning into really hot make-out sessions and then angry, passionate hate-sex. He really has no idea how to instigate what he wants to come out of this.
&
So... Danny has relatively little idea how an argument about lesbian jokes turns into making out with this really, really, ridiculously good-looking guy he’s kind of crazy about. One minute, they’re just sitting there arguing and in the back of his mind he’s thinking about how fucking gorgeous Matt looks when he’s pissed off, and then he surprises himself by going boldly where he’s drunkenly gone before. He’s sure as hell not expecting Matt to kiss back - but he does, and there are Matt’s hands tugging at his shirt while their mouths are pressed together biting and sucking and licking. There’s nothing else to do with his hands but try to keep his forward momentum; in other words, they’re pretty much just trying to undress each other and it’s hot and he doesn’t understand it. The next thing he knows, they’re both shirtless - not that he minds, seriously, Matt’s parents deserve a medal or something for creating such a fucking spectacular man - and he’s maybe kind of hard in his jeans and desperate to get off.
“Hold on,” Matt mumbles against his skin. “’s not going to work if we stay like this, couch isn’t big enough.” He’s sort of in shock about the whole thing, to be honest. A little moan sneaks out when Matt grabs him roughly through his jeans. “Fuck, we’re really doing this. Bedroom?”
“... Only if you promise to let me buy you some new sheets.”
Matt growls at him irritably. “There’s nothing wrong with my sheets!”
He doesn’t really feel like he should need to point out all of the levels of wrongness about the situation, but he does it anyway. “Uh, we’re about to have sex on sheets with Mickey Mouse’s face on them. That seems a little wrong to me, I don’t know. I mean, I’m still totally down if you are, just... um. If we ever have sex again it would be...”
“Yeah, okay, okay, you can buy me sheets if you want,” Matt replies, pulling him down onto the bed. He gets momentarily distracted by Matt’s teeth sinking into his bare shoulder; it’s kind of a given, at this point. “So Evan tried to tell me that he’s sleeping with Vinny... Fucking ridiculous, right?”
He can’t help but burst out laughing at the idea of that. Evan and Vinny. They’re best friends; they’re pretty much the last people who would ever sneak around together having sex. He can’t really imagine either of them would be very stealthy, so if it were true they would have found out ages ago. It’s the most fucking implausible idea he’s ever heard. The sex is essentially how he imagined it would be: quick, dirty and ridiculously hot. He’s got a few lovebites that are going to last for days. Somehow, though, he’s perfectly okay with that idea - it’ll probably piss his parents off immensely when he shows up at home later with his gorgeous not-boyfriend in tow and he’s still got the evidence of the previous night’s events all over his body. It will probably end up making the whole music major thing look small by comparison, at least. Which would be nice, seeing as he plans to never work in construction again for as long as he lives.
“You’re not just doing this to piss your parents off, right?” Matt asks afterward.
He shakes his head. “Naw, if I was doing this to piss them off then we would have gone and had sex on my dining room table or something. But, you know, we can totally do that sometime if you’re up for it.”
“How about we wait until our first real date before we talk about sex again,” Matt sighs. Which means that they’re going to have a first date. Before he can even process that information, Matt looks at him sternly and adds, “Don’t think I’m going to let you walk all over me just ‘cause you’re fucking cute and I like you. I’m still going to call you on your bullshit if I think you’re being stupid. Although, ahem, I wouldn’t say no to sex in the back of your car after the first date.”
Sequel: You're Aces, Kid.
“Yeah, we’re okay,” he confirms, tipping his head back to give his boyfriend better access to his neck. At the same time, Alex’s fingers dip down under the waistband of his boxers, rubbing circles into his hip. They haven’t had sex in a month. For fuck’s sake, all Alex has wanted to do the past couple of weeks is lie around and bitch about everything under the sun. First he was tired all the time and wanted to be left alone. Then he couldn’t sleep and still wanted to left alone. He wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t shower, would barely even speak to anyone and it’s been... It’s been lonely, and frustrating, and Jack doesn’t even care about the sexual frustration part of that equation anymore. He hates seeing Alex like that and never wants it to happen again. “Are, are you okay?” he asks, twisting around so that he can sit on the counter and pull Alex between his legs.
“I love you,” Alex whispers, nuzzling into his neck suddenly even though Jack has already picked up on the tears shimmering in his eyes.
He says “I love you too” and buries his face in Alex’s hair. “Does this mean you’re feeling better?” At this point, he’s hopeful but has learned not to expect much. Alex’s body is warm and familiar but also a little strange after weeks of sleeping on the couch most nights before creeping back upstairs after Alex has fallen asleep. He doesn’t sleep well on his own and it’s weird to wake up without his boyfriend next to him. They stay like that until the coffee is long past cold, hugging in the middle of the kitchen. Rian walks past grumbling about the two of them being nymphomaniacs, but he doesn’t even care anymore.
Alex pulls away from him, smiling sheepishly. “Need to take my pills,” he mumbles, reaching up past Jack’s shoulder for the tall brown bottle. He shakes out two of the small yellow capsules and dry swallows them with a tiny grimace. It’s the first morning in a week that Jack hasn’t reminded him. Yeah, it’s a small thing, but it’s progress. Then he presses himself against Jack again. “Can you come home early tonight?” His voice sounds so small and uncertain. Oh, fuck. They don’t need any more bad news.
Automatic reaction: Jack kisses his temple and asks, “What’s wrong, babe?”
“Nothin’.” Alex smiles softly, leans up, and catches his lips affectionately. “I just want to be with you and, um, make up for being so difficult while I figured this shit out.” It takes him a few seconds to figure out the double meaning. He’s a bit slow in the mornings and hasn’t had any coffee yet. The inside of Alex’s mouth tastes like peppermint Scope and sleep. God, he’s missed this so much. There have been so many doctor’s appointments and trips to the psychiatrist and frustrated trips to the store trying to find something they can actually agree on for dinner.
“Do you two ever fucking stop?” Rian grumbles, rummaging in the fridge for his carton of orange juice. Alex flips him off before backing Jack up against the counter again and kissing him deeply. “Seriously guys, I want to make some toast so take it upstairs if you’re going to do that.”
“Later,” Alex promises, rubbing his cheek against Jack’s neck. “You have class and I’ve got assignments to catch up on first.” There’s another kiss on the front step later, when Alex walks Jack to the bus stop - because he’s kind of too lazy to walk ten minutes to campus when there’s a bus stop twenty feet from their house - and then another in the bus shelter while they wait for the bus to arrive. It’s always late. Jack is pretty fucking thrilled that Alex is feeling better finally. Better late than never. Not just about the bus. He’s tired of worrying all the time. They’re going to be okay.
The rest of the day passes in a kind of blur - he’s not really paying attention even though he knows he shouldn’t get too excited about the possibility of sex until he actually gets home and finds out what kind of mood Alex is in. But, it’s still one of the better mornings they’ve had in a while, so it’s a little encouraging. He cuts his evening class; it’s just a dumb film elective so he doesn’t really need to be there. When he gets home, Rian is very conveniently not there. The sound from the stereo carries all the way downstairs, so once he’s dropped his stuff by the front door he goes up to their room and finds Alex lying in bed, naked from - at the very least - the waist up watching the Discovery channel.
“Hey,” he says, sliding out of his jeans and yanking his shirt over his head. “How do you feel?”
Alex curls up against him, kissing his neck softly. “Pretty good. I mean, I don’t feel bad but I don’t feel like going out and running a marathon either? But I’m not, like, super down or anything if that’s what you mean. I just... I miss you.” He gets under the covers, pleasantly surprised to feel Alex’s bare legs brush against his. They start making out without any further discussion.
At first he’s not terribly excited by it, which is an awful thought but semi-necessary to keep himself from being disappointed if Alex changes his mind about it later. It’s hard to be pessimistic, though, when Alex’s tongue is sliding against his own and they’re groping at each other like a couple of fumbling high school kids, grinding their hips together for relief. Considering he hasn’t had sex in over a month, it’s about ten minutes before he’s whimpering at every touch. The good news is that it seems to be having the same effect - oh thank God, if there is a God that really exists - on Alex. It’s been extremely hit and miss since he’s been on Paxil, but this is encouraging. This is very encouraging.
Which is why he squeaks a little when Alex pulls away, afraid that he’s going to get cock-blocked by his boyfriend’s medication yet again. “No, no, it’s okay,” Alex murmurs, rubbing at his hip seductively. “Don’t go anywhere, just...” He’s pretty sure his eyes light up like a kid in a candy store when he realizes that Alex is reaching over into their sex drawer for the lube. Alex laughs and kisses him lightly before pressing the bottle into his hand. Yeah, he doesn’t need to be told what to do with that. The lube is cold on his fingers - fuck, it’s lube and it’s been sitting in a drawer for a month, of course it’s going to feel cold - but then he pushes them into Alex, who’s lying on his back with his legs spread, and it’s fucking magical.
“Shit,” he groans, moving his fingers back and shifting his wrist to get a better angle. Alex makes a small, shaky noise but doesn’t stop him, so he pushes them in further, pressing up until they brush Alex’s prostate - and he always, always knows when he’s found it because Alex’s entire body shivers and he makes this sound. Since he’s accomplished that feat he knows it’s okay to start scissoring his fingers a little. “Oh fuck.” Then, Alex’s hands are on him and it’s a serious task not to come right then and there. Hands and mouth and fingers fucking everywhere, all over his body.
Alex shoves his hands away and looks at him with this very annoyed expression on his face. “If you don’t fuck me now I’m seriously going to make you sleep downstairs tonight.”
Jack doesn’t need to be told twice. Very, very cautiously he lubes himself up - it’s kind of necessary because he really doesn’t want to sleep on the couch again - and then before Alex can yell at him again he pushes in slowly, eliciting a fucking pornographic moan from his boyfriend. It’s not exactly the most amazing they’ve ever had. He lasts under a minute, seriously, because Alex is tight as hell from a month of no sex and he’s way too horny for his own good. Probably should’ve gone easy on the fingering, he thinks in his post-orgasm haze. But he’s not that inconsiderate - he takes the time to jerk Alex off, too, before collapsing in a sweaty heap on his side of the bed. “What,” he pants when Alex pokes his cheek, grinning brightly.
“That was officially the shortest time it’s ever taken you to finish,” Alex chuckles. “Seriously, it was like DICK. HOLES. BOUNCE BOUNCE BOUNCE. ORGASM. END.”
“I haven’t had sex in a month, what do you expect.” He wipes his hand on a dirty shirt lying on the floor near the bed before wrapping himself around Alex. They make out lazily for a while before Alex starts yawning and stretching all over him like... well, kind of like a little sassy cat thing. “Go to sleep, babe,” he sighs, brushing his lips over Alex’s cheek. “And if you ever utter those words again you’re going to be the one sleeping on the couch, just so you know.”
&
The scene goes as follows: They’re sitting around the dining room table for Sunday dinner. His mother and father are each immaculately dressed; they’re eating off the good dishes and both parents are drinking an expensive red wine. Danny’s sitting there in his sweats and a hoodie, hasn’t showered since Thursday night, and he’s drinking his own wine straight from the box. His plate of half-eaten food is still sitting in front of him. All he’s done, pretty much, is push it around with his fork and eat the potatoes. They don’t need to say anything for him to know that they’re judging him. Finally, his mother clears her throat noisily. “Hem-hem! I would appreciate it if you’d take your hat off at the table,” she says in that annoyingly fake voice. Her real voice - the one she uses when she’s angry - is about two octaves lower.
“No,” he grumbles. He’s sort of picked up the beanie-wearing habit from Alex. In return, Alex has somehow managed to steal about half of his wardrobe without him noticing. Irritably, he pulls his beanie down over his ears and chugs the rest of his wine even though it tastes completely awful. Why are they so dressed up to eat a meal in their own home? It’s not like forcing him to have dinner with them once a week actually promotes family togetherness if none of them speak to each other.
“Take your hat off, please,” his father says tersely. They’re both sitting there staring at him, and all he can think about is how fucking insincere the whole scene is. They’re supposed to be this very well-to-do family, but his parents don’t even sleep in the same bedroom and they’ve got him taking these classes he doesn’t even care about. If he has to keep up the facade any longer, he’s going to scream. He doesn’t want to take his fucking hat off. Maybe Matt’s right about him trying to make everybody happy - maybe he’s trying too hard to please everyone but himself - and it’s that thought that inspires him to make his next statement. Since apparently not speaking to any of his high school friends, hanging out with a group of people so far from the circles his family is ‘supposed’ to run in they don’t even inhabit the same planet, and getting tattoos and piercing his nose isn’t enough of an indicator to them, he’s finally going to do the one thing that will distance himself from his fucking pretentious family for good.
He sits up very straight and looks his mother directly in the eye. She’s the one who pulls the strings in this house; he and his father are just puppets under her control. It’s fucking terrifying. Then he spreads his hands out on the table, palms down, and says very calmly, “I’m switching my major to music.” He doesn’t flinch when the fork drops out of his mother’s hand and clatters onto the plate loudly. It’s been a month since he kissed Matt at that party and - as much as he hates to admit it - Matt was kind of right about a lot of things. He’s really not happy.
“No, you’re not,” his mother says. Out comes the angry voice. “I thought we agreed you were going to pick political science as your major.”
He fights the urge to curl his hands into fists or to press his hands together. One of the things - about the only useful thing - he learned in psychology lecture was about body language. She’s not going to have the upper hand this time. With the same unbearable calmness, he says “We didn’t agree on anything. You told me what to do and I’m not going to listen to you.”
Before either of his parents can say anything else to him, he stands up and walks away in pretty much the quintessential teenage rebellion stomp-out, complete with bedroom door-slamming. He’s maybe a little bit irritable since he’s been awake for most of the past seventy-two hours practicing for his audition to see if he’ll get accepted into the music program at all in the morning. Who the fuck is Danny Kurily these days? All he cares about is his friends and his guitars and the one time he made out with a guy who hates him at a party. He’s probably going to bomb his audition completely. His parents probably aren’t going to pay for next year’s tuition so he’ll probably have to find a job for the summer. Surprisingly, he’s not upset about it. It might actually gain him some credibility with certain people, come to think of it.
Not that he’s still thinking of ways to impress Matt or anything. That would be stupid. Especially since the guy doesn’t talk to him and they’re currently going out of their way to avoid each other. He knows better than to ever bring it up again.
&
“Are you going to tell me why you’re in such a foul mood these days or can I safely assume that this has something to do with Danny?” Jeff asks. Matt flips him off, shifting the weight of the case of beer he’s carrying inside on his hip awkwardly. He doesn’t fucking want to talk about it. “C’mon, Mickey. You can’t keep denying that you feel something for him. I can tell that you do.”
“What part of ‘I don’t want to talk about it’ didn’t get through to you the last eight times you’ve tried to start this conversation with me?” he sighs. “I don’t like him. End of story.”
Jeff rolls his eyes. “You’re being impossible and classist.”
He sets the case down under the counter and then hops up to sit on the bar with his feet hanging down like a little kid would. “I’m not being classist, I just don’t like him. He irritates me. I dislike his personality, his clothes and his stupid haircut.” Which he probably shouldn’t have said because Jeff’s eyes light up and the bastard starts grinning at him. This is why he hates volunteering for overtime; he has to help unload the trucks that deliver everything to the venue and it has the added bonus of Jeff harassing him about fucking Kurily all the time. For some reason, despite the fact that it is completely fuckin’ untrue, Jeff seems to be under the mistaken impression that he has deep-seated feelings of repressed longing toward the little shit. The only thing he longs to do to the kid is tell him to fuck off forever, maybe.
“But you did notice his haircut.”
“Eat shit, Maker. That means nothing.” Yeah. He’s just been taking the bus to work again and avoiding the places where he knows Danny will be because he doesn’t want to deal with the situation. It’s not so bad, really. There’s one guy who takes the bus frequently at the same time he does that seems pretty nice, in an ‘I’d like to ass-rape you in a dark alley where no one can hear you screaming’ kind of way. Just because he made one fucking comment about Kurily’s new douchey haircut does not mean anything. They haven’t had an actual conversation since the beginning of the semester and he’s quite okay with that trend continuing.
He notices a lot of things, though. Like how Evan’s still texting the mysterious person who is definitely not his girlfriend and how Jack and Alex are doing better these days. He’s even - mostly - gotten over his intense hatred of anyone who tries to get with his best friend; Rian’s a decent guy and he probably won’t fuck things up too badly. Grieco is oblivious to Rian’s huge fucking crush, however. He and Jeff unload the rest of the deliveries in silence. It still feels like he’s being silently judged by Jeff’s eyebrows. Every time he glances over at the road he half-expects Danny’s shitty car to be sitting there waiting to pick him up and drive him home. Sometimes they even got coffee on the way there. And, like, Starbucks instead of the shitty watered-down kind they sell next door to the venue. He will never, ever say that out loud to anyone, but he does miss the coffee. Once, they just sat in the parking lot behind Starbucks and drank their over-priced drinks and listened to the Sex Pistols together in silence. That was actually kind of nice.
Now Kurily generally stomps around campus with his guitar case and he always looks tired and cranky. He cut all his hair off and he’s started wearing the same idiotic beanies that Alex does. Either he’s going through some kind of existential life crisis or he finally stood up to his parents about the whole music thing... Possibly both. It’s a lot less satisfying than he thought it would feel. Mostly, when he sees Danny coming out of the corner of his eye, he just feels strangely twitchy and sulky. When they’ve locked up for the night, he sort of wishes he didn’t have to take the bus home. It would be awesome to get more than four or five hours’ sleep before he has to paste on a smile while he waits tables for minimum wage plus tips. “See you tomorrow night,” he says to Jeff.
“You know, you could take a day off once in a while and it wouldn’t kill you,” Jeff tells him.
He groans. “No, but I’d be very hungry.” There’s a container full of cold mac and cheese waiting for him at home unless Evan has eaten it all. He can’t remember ever feeling this miserable about anything. They live on pasta and free food from various events on campus and he takes the bus everywhere in the cold and the dark and the rain. As much as it pains him to admit, his life may have been slightly less crappy with Kurily in it. At least then he had someone to drive him around, even if it was annoying as hell that he never got to pay for his own shit then. Which, actually. In retrospect wasn’t the worst thing in the world.
&
Matt comes home later than usual and, from what Evan can tell, he goes straight to bed. It’s a good thing because he’s not exactly alone in bed and doesn’t want to deal with the fallout when, inevitably, someone clues in to what’s going on and chews him out for it. He knows, okay? He knows that it’s probably completely inadvisable to be carrying on a sexual relationship with his best friend while still dating his girlfriend. He knows that it’s unfair to both of them, but he doesn’t know what to do. As time goes on it’s become glaringly obvious that he’s putting more effort into this... affair... than he has during his entire relationship with her. It’s only going to be riskier as the summer months drag on. He should just... put an end to things before they can carry on any further. It would be the responsible thing to do, right?
He’s almost asleep when he hears a commotion from Matt’s room. A few seconds later, the light in the kitchen goes off and he can see Matt stalking across the living room to dump his - presumably dirty - sheets in the hamper. “Fuck you, Evan,” Matt grumbles, leaning against the frame of his bedroom door.
“Still pretending you’re not having wet dreams about somebody you claim to hate?” he jokes. Vinny makes an annoyed sound when he sits up and turns on the light.
Matt scowls and says, “Still pretending you’re not cheating on your girlfriend then? People in glass houses, man. Glass. fucking. houses. And it was not a wet dream! It was just,” he flails uselessly with his hands, “A thing. Oh, hey Vinny. Tell Evan he’s a fuckin’ douchebro for cheating on Ashley.”
Vinny can barely hide his laughter. “Ev, you’re a douchebro. Also you were totally having a wet dream, Flyzik, don’t even lie. You’ve wanted to bone Danny ever since that party. Seriously. Do us all a favour and just have a night of majestic hate-sex with him and get over it already.” They’re doing a surprisingly good job of pretending that everything is normal for two guys who very nearly got caught in the act. If Matt had come home ten minutes earlier... Fuck. Too close for comfort. He’s suddenly very glad to be part of a group of friends that sleep in the same bed on a regular basis, or this would be the part where Matt starts shouting ‘J’accuse!’ and brands him with a scarlet A forever.
“I hate you both,” Matt growls before stomping back to his own bedroom.
Once they’re sure he’s gone to bed - easy to tell since he’s so loud when he’s awake, what with all the stomping and banging around - Vinny looks at him and says, “Well, that could’ve gotten awkward really fast.” Thank God for small miracles; he’s not sure how Matt didn’t pick up on it considering there are clothes lying all over the floor and it smells distinctly of sex. The question hangs unasked in the air, though; Vinny pulls him back down and kisses him before he can say that maybe they shouldn’t be doing this anymore. He can’t exactly say no to this. It feels too good to stop.
The first few times it was awkward as hell and they both laughed a lot. Now it’s just... They hang out for a while and drink, then one of them will initiate it and they end up having sex. It’s not even like it can really be considered cheating. “Mmmf,” he sighs when they pull apart. The words come out before he can check himself; he’s been stoppering up these feelings for weeks and they kind of burst out. “Love you.”
“’Kay,” Vinny yawns. “Will you drive me home in the morning so I can shower?”
Evan looks at him and feels that familiar mix of fondness and frustration. “Yeah,” he says finally. “You know, you could leave some stuff here if you wanted to...” It’s a very roundabout way of asking if he thinks things are getting kind of serious between them. It feels like they are. Vinny shrugs and looks at him in a way that distinctly reads as ‘You’re insane but I think I like it’.
“Dude, we’re not going to start taking showers together, are we? Because that might be a little too gay even for us,” Vinny mutters. The thing is that he’s not even being sarcastic. Having sex is one thing, but showering together is just a little too intimate for comfort. He loves the guy, but at the same time, there are probably some things he’s better off not knowing about his best friend. What if Vinny’s one of those people who sings in the shower and his singing is off-key? Evan is not prepared to deal with that. It’s a little thing, but crappy singing is a deal-breaker for him. Not that he’s consciously planning on making this a continuing thing, but it’s something he has to think about. Or maybe he’s just looking for an exit strategy because he can’t cope with the guilt anymore.
&
The first day of his second year of college is remarkably like his first. Jack and Alex shepherd him off to the appropriate area and he’s still just as nervous as he was last year because he’s in an entirely different faculty with different classrooms and buildings and people to deal with. It’s intimidating as hell because all the other music majors already know each other and have had an entire year to work out their group dynamic; he knows a grand total of Rian and Grieco. Who aren’t actually of that much use to him anyway since they’re too busy trying to pretend they’re not desperately in love with each other... The only advantage he’s got is because he did a year of general studies last year, he won’t have to take a lot of electives this year so he can catch up quickly. Before he can sneak quietly off to one of the practice rooms before his first actual music class, though, Jack and Alex grab him and haul him off to the cafeteria.
“Where d’you think you’re going, Kurily?” Alex says, catching him by the elbow.
He nearly does a face-plant into one of the trees in the middle of the quad but stops himself in time. “I was going to get some practice in before my first music class?” he replies, shifting his messenger bag on his shoulder so he won’t almost fall over again. It’s not like he’s trying to avoid his friends on purpose; he’d just rather not endure Matt’s cold silence if he doesn’t have to.
Alex glares at him. “You can’t avoid him forever, you know. It’s stupid that you’re trying to when it’s kind of obvious that you’re stupid about him.”
“Stupid about who?” Jack asks, pressing himself against Alex’s other side. “You guys never tell me anything. I swear I’m the last to know everything that happens with you guys.” Today, he’s got a lovingly drawn penis on his forearm that can only be Alex’s handiwork. Real classy. “Danny, man, I didn’t even know you were dating anyone.”
“He’s not,” Alex says before he can protest. “He’s in love with Matt, though.”
Great. His arms are either in Alex’s surprisingly strong but bony grip or hanging onto his guitar case, meaning he can’t give Alex the punch he so obviously deserves for that remark. “I hate you,” he groans, gritting his teeth so hard it hurts. “And I am not stupid about him! You’re an idiot.”
When they get to their table, he freezes up a little bit. God-fucking-dammit. Matt looks at him appraisingly and goes, “Wow, you actually look like less of a douche this year. Good job.”
“Uh, was that supposed to be a compliment?” He slides in between Matt and Grieco so he can glare across the table at his alleged ‘best friends’. This is so, so painfully awkward. He’s not going to say anything about it if Matt’s not. Part of him had been hoping that the summer would allow things to mellow out a little bit, but he still feels uptight, tense, and like his heart is going to leap out of his throat onto the table at any moment. Their thighs kind of press together on the bench and it’s all he can do not to jump out of his skin.
Matt says, very evenly, “I have to be nice to you so I can borrow Evan’s car.”
“Good to know; I was worried you forgot who I was for a second and mistook me for someone you actually like. Glad we got that cleared up.”
Alex kicks him under the table and hisses, “Be nice.” Then, Alex proceeds to pretend he’s done nothing at all and busies himself with his boyfriend’s mouth.
“So,” Danny says awkwardly. “Um, good summer?” It’s better to try and act like this is normal, right? Grieco’s not even paying attention to him - some stupid discussion with Rian about drumsticks and cymbals and things he’s never going to need to know about - and he’d really rather not join in on the discussion about the benefits of bronzers at the other end of the table. He can safely say that no, he’s never felt the urge to get that ‘sun-kissed’ look.
Matt shrugs. “It was, you know. Worked a lot, hung out with Grieco. I’m sure you have some fabulous story about your family’s vacation to your private island in the Caribbean though, so you might as well get on with it.”
“Actually... I kind of just worked all summer.” He’s still got the last remnants of a sunburn on his shoulders; he spent the last month helping Evan’s dad with a bunch of construction jobs and it was a lot harder than he expected. It feels good to be able to say, though. And he does feel a certain sense of smugness when he takes in Matt’s surprised expression.
“... Oh.”
Then he remembers something he’d been wondering about for a while and lowers his voice. “Hey, did you ever find out who Evan was...?” he whispers.
“You really think I wanted to know any more about his sex life? Every time I ask him about it he just says he’s texting Vinny.” Matt wrinkles his nose and sighs. “Like I’m actually going to believe that.”
Evan cuts into their side conversation by saying, “Hey, since you guys are such good friends now, you can give Matt a ride to work later ‘cause I’ve got a date.”
“... Fuck you, Evan,” he grumbles.
He shouldn’t have worried about it being awkward, though. The rest of the day passes without event - ‘without event’ meaning that he and Matt don’t fight and behave like civilized human beings to each other. At the end of the day he sits in his car with the windows down and waits for Matt to come out of the humanities building. It’s a familiar event that’s somehow unfamiliar; it’s been months since he’s driven Matt to work. He changes the CD in the stereo five or six times before his passenger appears, looking annoyed.
“Is it necessary for freshmen to stand in the middle of campus fucking giggling?”
Danny starts the car. “I don’t think they’re very discriminating about where they choose to stand and giggle. It’s the freshman imperative.” When Matt goes to touch the settings on his stereo, instinctively, he reaches out to slap the other man’s hand away. It’s sort of frightening how quickly they’ve fallen back into this routine. “Hey, um,” he says. “If you ever need a ride anywhere, you can. Uh. You can call me and I’ll come.”
“Yeah, okay. Listen, so the football game Sunday. Grieco and I, we’re watching it at my place if you want to, like. This is stupid. You probably don’t even want to come. You probably want to sit at Jack and Alex’s and drink PBR or whatever.”
“Oh, bullshit, you just don’t want anyone to see you cry when the Eagles lose to the Ravens.”
“That was my allergies! I wasn’t crying, fuck. You’re a dick.” And then Matt changes his CD anyway; he doesn’t complain. It’s too weird that they’re not fighting. He doesn’t want to screw that up now. Besides, he was kind of feeling more like blink-182 than Duran Duran.
&
Evan sits on the side of the bathtub watching Matt shave. “You know, you should probably just tell him that you like him so the rest of us can stop feeling awkward about your sexual frustration,” he says. But he’s one to talk since he barely even looks up from his iPhone as he speaks; he’s got that very definite ‘I’m texting my mistress and she’s saying sexy things to me but I’m pretending not to be turned on for your sake’ look about him. “I mean, you’re shaving for him. The least you could do is not wear that shitty baseball cap for once.”
“You’re full of shit, you know that? At least pretend not to be texting one of your girlfriends while you’re sitting in the bathroom with me. And for the record, I am not shaving for him. Some of us can actually grow facial hair and don’t want to look like dwarves about to journey off to Mordor to destroy the One Ring with Frodo.”
“For the record, I’m texting Vinny, so you can pull the stick out of your ass, dipshit.”
Matt runs some water over his toothbrush to dampen the toothpaste before scrubbing his teeth vigorously, pulling faces at the mirror to ensure he’s reached all of those particularly tricky spots. “Lggh ah b-leev urgh teh-tig Vi’hy,” he says through his mouthful of toothpaste.
Evan looks at him as if he’s got rocks in his head. “I’m sleeping with Vinny,” he says quietly.
Matt nearly chokes on his toothbrush trying not to laugh. “Seriously, your jokes aren’t funny, Ev. If you don’t want to tell me what’s going on with you, I’m not going to make you, but for Chrissake, at least come up with a better lie than that.” He spits the remainder of his toothpaste into the sink and proceeds to rinse with mouthwash. Because... fuckin’ bacteria. It’s not like he’s trying to impress anyone. It’s just going to be him and Grieco. Well, and Kurily, but he’s trying not to think about that because every time he does he gets this feeling in his chest like he can’t breathe.
“Fine,” Evan mutters, “Don’t say I didn’t try to tell you. I’m gonna go to the house, but I’ll see you later if you haven’t already gone to bed. Enjoy your date!” Grieco arrives as Evan’s leaving, so he doesn’t even get a chance to come up with an appropriate rebuttal to that statement. It’s not what it looks like. He’s not trying to impress anyone.
“New jeans?” Grieco asks.
“For fuck’s sake, will everybody hop off my dick! I’m not trying to impress anyone, this isn’t a date and I am not fucking trying to get on better terms with Kurily so can we just leave it alone for one second please.” Before he can say anything else stupid - or have another outburst - he retreats to the bathroom to floss. It’s important. It’s an excuse to not have to talk so he can rein in his stupid emotions before they make him do something he’ll regret later on.
His subconscious is seriously fuckin’ trying to kill him or something. All day, in the back of his mind, has been that stupid party and that stupid kiss and he doesn’t want to think about it anymore. He’s tired of remembering it. By the time he’s decently presentable, the game is just about to start and Kurily has turned up. Whoosh, there goes all the air out of his lungs.
“Hey,” he says, feeling self-conscious without his hat. This is the last time he listens to Evan about anything. Ever. He feels naked.
“Ready to watch the Eagles lose?”
He’s really not that annoyed when Danny yanks on his shirt, but he says “Eat shit, Kurily,” anyway so as not to break with tradition. Before he can do anything else awkward, he decides he’d better sit down and plants himself next to Grieco, who he’s planning to use as a human shield. If, y’know, anything should happen that he isn’t open to. Like making out. That would be... It might not be the worst thing in the world, but it’s also not something that’s going to be happening today, in this apartment, when his roommate isn’t home and Grieco mumbled something about going to see Rian when he came in earlier. It seems like Danny’s going out of his way to touch him, too, which is all kinds of weird and makes him feel incredibly awkward.
It only gets worse from there. He can’t even concentrate on the game because he’s so horribly aware of the man sitting next to him and the fact that this was a completely awful idea. The couch isn’t even designed for three people to sit on! So they’re sitting there all sandwiched together and he feels all... painfully aware of Danny’s thigh touching his. Maybe they should make out or something just to kill the tension. Not that, like. He wants to, or anything. It’s kind of the only option. And it wasn’t exactly bad the last time; he’s definitely made out with other people and enjoyed it much less.
He’s incredibly relieved when Grieco excuses himself from the awkwardness to go hang out with Rian for a while. Yeah, he kind of owes his best friend big-time for this. Then, he spends the rest of the half sitting there wondering how he’s supposed to make a move on someone he’s spent all of his time up until now hating. It’s a lot more difficult than he thought it would be. Most of his ideas regarding this particular topic revolve around heated arguments turning into really hot make-out sessions and then angry, passionate hate-sex. He really has no idea how to instigate what he wants to come out of this.
&
So... Danny has relatively little idea how an argument about lesbian jokes turns into making out with this really, really, ridiculously good-looking guy he’s kind of crazy about. One minute, they’re just sitting there arguing and in the back of his mind he’s thinking about how fucking gorgeous Matt looks when he’s pissed off, and then he surprises himself by going boldly where he’s drunkenly gone before. He’s sure as hell not expecting Matt to kiss back - but he does, and there are Matt’s hands tugging at his shirt while their mouths are pressed together biting and sucking and licking. There’s nothing else to do with his hands but try to keep his forward momentum; in other words, they’re pretty much just trying to undress each other and it’s hot and he doesn’t understand it. The next thing he knows, they’re both shirtless - not that he minds, seriously, Matt’s parents deserve a medal or something for creating such a fucking spectacular man - and he’s maybe kind of hard in his jeans and desperate to get off.
“Hold on,” Matt mumbles against his skin. “’s not going to work if we stay like this, couch isn’t big enough.” He’s sort of in shock about the whole thing, to be honest. A little moan sneaks out when Matt grabs him roughly through his jeans. “Fuck, we’re really doing this. Bedroom?”
“... Only if you promise to let me buy you some new sheets.”
Matt growls at him irritably. “There’s nothing wrong with my sheets!”
He doesn’t really feel like he should need to point out all of the levels of wrongness about the situation, but he does it anyway. “Uh, we’re about to have sex on sheets with Mickey Mouse’s face on them. That seems a little wrong to me, I don’t know. I mean, I’m still totally down if you are, just... um. If we ever have sex again it would be...”
“Yeah, okay, okay, you can buy me sheets if you want,” Matt replies, pulling him down onto the bed. He gets momentarily distracted by Matt’s teeth sinking into his bare shoulder; it’s kind of a given, at this point. “So Evan tried to tell me that he’s sleeping with Vinny... Fucking ridiculous, right?”
He can’t help but burst out laughing at the idea of that. Evan and Vinny. They’re best friends; they’re pretty much the last people who would ever sneak around together having sex. He can’t really imagine either of them would be very stealthy, so if it were true they would have found out ages ago. It’s the most fucking implausible idea he’s ever heard. The sex is essentially how he imagined it would be: quick, dirty and ridiculously hot. He’s got a few lovebites that are going to last for days. Somehow, though, he’s perfectly okay with that idea - it’ll probably piss his parents off immensely when he shows up at home later with his gorgeous not-boyfriend in tow and he’s still got the evidence of the previous night’s events all over his body. It will probably end up making the whole music major thing look small by comparison, at least. Which would be nice, seeing as he plans to never work in construction again for as long as he lives.
“You’re not just doing this to piss your parents off, right?” Matt asks afterward.
He shakes his head. “Naw, if I was doing this to piss them off then we would have gone and had sex on my dining room table or something. But, you know, we can totally do that sometime if you’re up for it.”
“How about we wait until our first real date before we talk about sex again,” Matt sighs. Which means that they’re going to have a first date. Before he can even process that information, Matt looks at him sternly and adds, “Don’t think I’m going to let you walk all over me just ‘cause you’re fucking cute and I like you. I’m still going to call you on your bullshit if I think you’re being stupid. Although, ahem, I wouldn’t say no to sex in the back of your car after the first date.”
Sequel: You're Aces, Kid.