FIC: I HAVE A FRIEND ABOVE ALL OTHERS
Title: I Have A Friend Above All Others
Author: carolinablu85
Word Count: 5,000
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not even really Jeremy. Title from a Sam Cooke song ;)
Warning: semi-AU, as in: based on RPG on FB/Twitter, slight Noah/OMC
Summary: Noah and Jeremy’s firsts.
A/N: This is purely, purely for aimezetmusique . Because she’s been working her ass off for a good cause. Because the people who deserve recognition are the ones who don’t want or ask for it. Because when someone is ignorant/stupid/insulting/annoying/bitchy on the internet, most of us want to come up with the perfect retort or argument. She wants to come up with the most positive way to counteract it. And not just think it- she actually then goes and does it. That’s how japan_calls got started, basically. That’s how that Other Group on FB got started. That’s how lovingonlove got started. And that’s amazing. I don’t care what age you’re turning this summer, Tanya- I want to be like you when I grow up.
-September
When Mr. Larson from the fourth floor mentions on the elevator that a new tenant is moving in soon, Jeremy doesn’t think much of it. When Mrs. King says while they check their mail that the new tenant is moving onto their floor, he fakes his interest and then forgets the conversation minutes later.
But when Leila from the floor below winks in the parking garage and says the new guy is their age, cute, and “old Mrs. Grant already hates him” (which at this point is basically code for ‘dude is gay’), Jeremy decides he has to see for himself.
He skips the elevator the next morning and heads for the stairs, which will conveniently take him past the new guy’s apartment. And lo and behold, there’s someone standing at 3G, struggling to open the door while carrying two large boxes.
And whoa. Not just any someone. A tall, dark, and handsome someone. Really tall. Really handsome. Really handsome. Well, it is LA, isn’t it? Aspiring model, maybe?
Right at that moment, the stack of boxes starts to topple out of the guy’s hands and fall avalanche-like towards the floor. “Damn it,” the guy mutters, glaring down at the debris at his feet.
His ‘innate Boy-Scoutness,’ as his friends like to call it, has Jeremy stepping forward. “Hey. Need some help?” He bounces a little on his feet when the guy looks up. Partly because he’s a little thrown by how blue those eyes are, and partly because the guy looks even more thrown than he does.
“Um, sure. Thanks,” he lets a smile show up halfway on his face, still a bit wary. He opens his mouth and then shuts it again, as though unsure of what he’s supposed to say next.
Jeremy can’t help but smile at that. “I’m Jeremy. I live down the hall.”
“Noah,” new neighbor finally gets a name. “I live here.”
It takes Jeremy a second to realize he’s joking, and he decides he kinda likes this Noah. He gives his best Boy Scout smile and crouches down next to the guy, helping him pile things back into the fallen boxes. “How long have you been in LA?”
Noah, he notices, is ridiculously precise and quick with placing everything back in the correct box. Moved a lot as a kid or OCD, Jeremy guesses. Maybe both. Noah pauses to glance at his watch before answering the question. “Four hours and seventeen minutes.”
He chuckles. “Wow, a newbie. Where’d you come from, Noah?”
Noah almost looks surprised that there’s a follow-up question, or that Jeremy is saying his name, or something. “Oh, um, all over. Illinois most recently.”
All over. So he probably did move around as a kid. Jeremy takes another long look at him, ignoring (for now) the way Noah’s voice strained at the word ‘Illinois.’ Emotional And Mysterious Life Story, Party of One? “You living here by yourself?” he asks instead.
“Yeah,” comes the short reply, almost bitten off, almost sighed at the same time.
Oh yeah. He’s definitely got a story. Normally this would have Jeremy running for the non-dysfunctional hills, but now... He’s intrigued. And, damn it, he just can’t seem to stay away from the ‘wounded puppy’ types.
Noah offers another tentative smile, and the unnaturally natural beauty of it pretty much seals the deal. “Thanks. I can probably manage from here, if you have somewhere you have to-”
Jeremy waves a hand to interrupt him. “Nah, nowhere special. Besides, best way for me to snoop through your place is if you invite me in.” He takes one of the boxes out of Noah’s hands.
Noah lets out a laugh as he opens the door, though it sounds almost forced. Or reluctant. Like he isn’t sure how to laugh with random strangers. “So you’re saying I might as well get it over with and let you in?”
Jeremy smirks. “You learn fast, Noah.” He winks as he steps inside, and has to hide a larger grin when Noah blushes. A glance around confirms his theory of Noah’s moving experience- everything is neatly placed and labeled and organized. It’s like the Container Store threw up in this tiny one bedroom apartment.
Though there’s not a lot of ‘everything,’ he sees. It would be Spartan and depressing if not for the carefully stacked DVDs and classic film posters on the apartment’s lone table. A-ha. At least he’s not a Unabomber. Or Amish. “You an actor?”
Noah makes the same face Jeremy’s kindergartners do when he makes them clean up after arts and crafts. “God no.” He follows Jeremy’s gaze over to the posters and sort of shrugs. “Director. Or, I want to be. I got a grant to make a film here, so...” Another possible shrug. “What do you do?”
Jeremy gives himself a mental high-five when he realizes Noah is actually engaging in the conversation. “I’m a teacher. Well, it’s kindergarten, so it’s more like trying to wrangle fifteen kangaroos on crack, but I like it.” Noah smiles a little fondly at that, leaving Jeremy to wonder what family he might’ve left behind in Illinois. Little brother or sister, maybe? “I work weekends as a bartender just down the block. Jones Bar. It’s a nice place, you should come on by. I tend to give free drinks to anyone who lets me snoop in their apartment.”
Noah raises an eyebrow. “So you do this a lot, huh? I’m not special?”
He blinks innocently. “How else am I going to get cute guys to invite me in?” More blushing, and Jeremy wonders if he could do a drinking game to how often he gets Noah to do that. It seems like it’d be a fun (and worthwhile) activity. But for the moment, he decides to take pity on him. “Where do you want this box?”
Noah checks it and for a split second his face freezes. But he turns away so quickly Jeremy isn’t sure it happened at all. “You can, um, set it by the table. I’m not sure where I’m putting it yet.”
“Sure,” Jeremy pretends he didn’t notice anything, but studies the box’s label as he sets it down. There’s a ‘Property of the US Army’ stamp on it, with the handwritten initials ‘WM’ next to it. Interesting. Noah’s last name starts with an M, he notices that on a few of the other boxes. His dad? Brother? This guy is quite the mystery.
He watches Noah put the last box almost reverently on the beat-up old couch in the center of the room. Funny enough, this is the only box with no label whatsoever. Jeremy tries to recall what had been in that box when it overturned, and he remembers a necktie, papers bundled together, and a photo of Noah with some blond person. Judging by the way their arms had been around each other, he guesses Noah’s boyfriend. Or, he amends, studying the look Noah is trying to mask, maybe not a boyfriend anymore.
Yep. Old Mrs. Grant across the hall is going to hate him. But Jeremy... Jeremy is thinking there’s something about this Noah M. And he’s going to find out exactly what it is.
-October
“Really? A cartoon?” Noah’s tone is appropriately film-snob skeptical.
“Cartoons can be classics, can’t they?” Jeremy argues, handing over another bottle of beer and dropping back down onto the couch next to his friend.
“It’s not even twenty years old,” Noah whines, frowning obstinately. Jeremy is more than a little amused at how childlike the guy gets when he’s drunk. “How can it be a classic if it hasn’t even, you know, stood the test of time yet?”
“Hey,” Jeremy crosses his arms defiantly, keeping the smile off his face rather unsuccessfully. And he realizes he’s rather drunk as well. “I had to sit through the Jimmy Stewart marathon you forced upon me last week. My turn. My choice. My movie.”
“But... really?” Noah scrunches up one side of his face. “The Lion King?”
“You said I had to share one of my favorite movies. This is it,” Jeremy maintains, undeterred. He picks up the remote and presses play with as much exaggerated determination as he can muster, finally getting a smile out of Noah. A thought flashes through his brain as the cartoon sun starts to rise on screen, and he turns to Noah. “Didn’t you watch the Disneys as a kid?”
“Shhh,” Noah admonishes. “No talking during the movie.” His eyes are already fixed on the screen, and despite his pouting earlier, he’s completely engrossed already.
Jeremy settles back on the couch, drinking his beer, mostly watching the movie but sometimes watching Noah. He feels himself smiling again when he realizes Noah watches every movie- no matter what- with the same amount of focus and rapt attention.
Which is why he’s a little surprised when, during the stampede scene, Noah starts fidgeting a little, glancing away, peeling at the label on his beer bottle. By the time Simba is told to run away and never return, Noah’s about as off-kilter as Jeremy has ever seen him.
“You okay?” he asks casually, reaching out and resting his arm against the back of the couch. Not touching Noah’s shoulder, but keeping his hand nearby in case.
“Fine,” Noah’s answer is soft but immediate. Almost like a reflex.
Jeremy wants to laugh, not believing him for a second, but he doesn’t want to look patronizing so he keeps his eyes on Timon and Pumbaa instead. “You sure?”
Noah clears his throat, nods. “Yeah. Just, you know, tired. Long day.”
The shorter Noah’s sentences get, the less Jeremy tends to believe him, he’s realized recently. “You still having trouble sleeping?”
Noah twitches for a millisecond, still facing forward. “Just because I don’t get eight hours a night doesn’t mean I’m having trouble.”
“How many hours do you get?” he asks, knowing there’s more to that answer.
Noah shakes his head. “No talking during the movie, Jeremy.”
Jeremy snorts, trying to hold in a laugh. “Either we talk about your sleeping habits or we talk about what’s really bugging you. You can pick.”
The television screen is apparently infinitely more interesting than Jeremy is. “I pick watching the movie. I thought it was your favorite.” He picks up his beer again, taking a long pull from the bottle. “Leave me ’lone. Look.” He nods to the movie. “Rafiki.”
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re infuriatingly stubborn?” Jeremy teases.
“Yeah.” Noah’s answer isn’t quite as lighthearted. Jeremy sobers up a little, puts down his beer, and studies his friend again. Noah’s jaw clenches under the scrutiny, but he still won’t look away from the TV.
“When I first moved here,” Jeremy begins speaking, his voice only a little bit louder than the movie, “it was my first time away from home. First time living completely by myself. And I was scared shitless for awhile.”
Noah doesn’t appear to be listening, but Jeremy knows he is. They sit side-by-side again, shoulders bumping just a little.
He keeps talking. “I mean, it was stupid, right? My family’s only about an hour away. And I grew up just down the road in Santa Monica. It’s not like I was a stranger in a strange land. Except I kinda was, just because it was so different from where I’d come from. And I was so determined to do it myself that, for some reason, I was even more scared. This place was so quiet.”
“Yeah,” Noah seems to agree without realizing it.
“And now time for my deep dark confession,” Jeremy knocks his shoulder into Noah’s harder. “First week I was here? I watched Disney movies every night. That’s right. I used to be that lame,” he adds before Noah can snark. “But, I don’t know. The music and the stories, even just the noise... made me feel less alone. Like the place was less empty.”
Noah nods, clears his throat likely. “Yeah,” he says again. “Why, um, why are you telling me this?”
Jeremy turns to him fully, smiling in what he hopes in an easygoing, gentle way. “If you want to crash here tonight, on the couch? You can. I mean, it’s probably less quiet than back at your place.” He smirks. “You strike me as the ‘wouldn’t dare leave anything electrical plugged in overnight’ type.”
“That’s a little excessive, asshole,” Noah mumbles, a smile slipping in anyway.
He picks up his beer, tipping it in salute. “You already know me so well.”
-November
“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll put it down. Right now.” Noah’s eyes glitter dangerously, and even though it isn’t directed at Jeremy, he feels like taking a step back. Yikes.
And yet, somehow, Ameera just glares right back at him. “No.”
“Meera,” Noah crosses his arms. “I said you could help. Not take over. Step. Away. From the spaghetti.”
“You’re doing it wrong,” she insists, trying to get back to the stove. He sidesteps, blocking her path. “Noah...”
“My apartment. My rules,” he reaches out, spins her around, and gently pushes her back to where Jeremy’s sitting at the kitchen table.
She marches back grudgingly, taking the seat next to Jeremy. “This would be easier for me to accept if you actually let me cook for you once in awhile.”
Jeremy grins at the sigh he hears Noah try to suppress. “I don’t need you to cook for me, Meera.”
She turns to Jeremy, rolling her eyes. “He doesn’t need me to cook for him,” she repeats mockingly, skeptically. “Of course he does. How else am I supposed to make sure he actually eats?”
Jeremy tries to stifle a laugh, because she’s way more serious about this than he thought she’d be. And Noah is getting more and more indignant. “I don’t think he’s anorexic,” he tries to stay diplomatic. He looks good to me, he wants to say.
She huffs. “He’s getting too skinny. Doesn’t he look too skinny?” He opens his mouth to answer (with what, Lord only knows), but she’s already barreling on, back to Noah. “How are you supposed to be commanding and direct hundreds of people on a movie set if you look like Kate Moss?”
He shrugs, pouring the noodles and sauce into serving bowls. “People like Kate Moss.”
“No one likes Kate Moss,” she argues back, standing up again. She smacks his cheek lightly when he starts to argue, shooing him away so she can pull the garlic bread out of the oven for him. “Jeremy?” she badgers from over her shoulder.
He just keeps on grinning. “Hard for me to answer that one. Noah’s way more my type than Kate is.”
Ameera laughs when Noah grumbles and blushes his way to the table. “You both come into my home and make fun of me. Nice.”
Ameera sets the plate of garlic bread down on the center of the table and kisses the top of Noah’s head on her way to her chair. “I’m supposed to nag. Isn’t that what ex-wives do?”
It was almost like she timed that question to coincide with the second Jeremy is taking a sip of his wine. “What?” he chokes out, coughing around the pinot noir. It has to be a joke, at first Jeremy is sure. But Ameera’s affectionate yet bashful smile, and Noah’s bright red blush, tell him it’s not. “Ex-wife? What?”
Noah shoots Ameera that look, the one that says ‘I-do-not-want-to-talk-about-anything-Luke-related-right-now’ (Jeremy knows that look), and shakes his head. “Long story.”
“I would think so,” Jeremy smiles, wanting them to know he’s not freaking out or judging. The way Noah’s shoulders relax (he hadn’t even seen them tense), encourages him on. “Was it, like, a Green Card thing?”
He notices Ameera reach over and squeeze Noah’s hand, pretends he doesn’t. “Yes, it was,” she answers for them.
Jeremy watches Noah’s jaw tighten around whatever emotions he’s trying to keep in, and gives a decisive nod. “You can tell me next time we watch TLK.”
There’s a beat of silence, and then Noah chuckles gratefully, releasing the tension in the room for all three of them. “I can’t believe you gave it an acronym.”
Jeremy tips his wine glass in acknowledgment proudly. “I can’t believe you figured out the acronym so quickly,” he teases right back.
Ameera snorts, shakes her head. “I can’t believe I’m having dinner with two beautiful boys and they’re talking about cartoons.” She glances back towards the kitchen. “I didn’t bring anything for dessert, habibi, I’m sorry. Should we go with ice cream, or-”
Noah cuts her off. “No, I made something.” He glances quickly at Jeremy before answering. “Pecan pie. For Jeremy.”
“For m- what?” Jeremy’s back to shocked.
Noah’s back to blushing. “You said it was your favorite dessert, didn’t you? Your mom used to make it for big family dinners.” He half-shrugs one shoulder. “This is a family dinner.”
Jeremy opens his mouth to say something sappy and grateful and probably embarrassingly cheesy, but he sees Ameera shoot him a look out of the corner of his eye. She shakes her head ever so slightly and pointedly starts eating her spaghetti. “Okay then. We’ll get to that after dinner.” And he can almost hear her voice in his head, He doesn’t want any attention, so hush.
Jeremy smiles instead, says a soft, “Thanks, Noah,” and focuses on his own food. And maybe, just maybe, just a little on the inside, he starts to fall.
-December
“Do you really believe what you said that time? After my birthday?” Noah is swishing around his half-empty glass. It’s a drink of Jeremy’s own creation- Cuervo, Pilsner, a little lime juice. The perfect way to drown your sorrows, with the perfect combo of tequila and beer. He calls it the Teer Drop.
They’ve both already had a couple.
Jeremy frowns, trying to remember just what conversation his buddy his referring to. “What did I say?”
“That there’s no such thing as true love. That I live in a fantasy world.” He’s unconsciously tapping his fingers on his thigh to the beat of whatever Simba’s singing on screen.
Jeremy swallows, doesn’t stare at Noah’s fingers and thigh. “Partly, yeah. I mean, two people can be in love and right for each other and happy, but magic and fate have nothing to do with it. It takes a lot of work. And, sadly, luck.”
“And both people have to want it,” Noah mumbles.
“That helps,” he says gently. “But for all that, I could be completely full of shit, man. I’ve never been in love. What the hell do I know?”
“You know people,” Noah insists. “You get them. You get me. I trust your opinion as much as I’ve ever trusted anyone’s. And you said I should give up on Luke.”
He winces. “I didn’t say that.”
“You meant to,” Noah fires back. “Didn’t you?” His voice is combative, like he wants to pick a fight. Like he wants Jeremy to yell at him.
“No,” he answers calmly. “I don’t think you should- or could- give up on anything. It’s not how you’re wired.”
“But?” Noah supplies.
“But,” he acquiesces, “I don’t think you should pin all your hopes and dreams on one guy loving you back. You have way more to offer than just being some guy’s boyfriend.”
“He’s not just ‘some guy,’” Noah argues, jaw setting stubbornly.
“But he’s not everything, either,” he replies. “Noah, I know you don’t want to believe this, but you’re kind of a catch. And plenty of people would agree with me if you just... put yourself out there a little.”
“Like Luke is?” his voice is like a mix of bitter old man and sad little boy.
“Like Luke is, what?”
“Putting himself out there. Apparently,” Noah shrugs, points to Jeremy’s laptop. “Guess you haven’t been on Facebook today. Jade said something on his wall about... about some other guy.” He deliberately gulps down more of his drink. “Teer Drop is such a gay name, by the way.”
“Noah. Wait, what...?” He shakes his head. “Is it for real, though? Not just Jade-Talk? And why didn’t you tell me earlier? Are you, are you okay?”
Noah bites the inside of his cheek. “It’s fine. You were right, weren’t you? Thinking things will magically work out is stupid. And at Thanksgiving, when I was home with him and his family, you were the one who warned me not to get my hopes up. So I’m still stupid. Right?”
“I... I don’t know,” he answers honestly. He puts his hand on Noah’s back, rubbing consolingly. Ignores the slight pang of jealously when he realizes Noah still refers to that town and that place as ‘home.’ “You and Luke have a history not many people on this earth can relate to, man. It’s complicated. Everything that’s ever going to happen between you two will be complicated.”
“Thank you for that non-answer,” Noah snorts, glaring half-heartedly. He finishes off his drink.
Jeremy glares right back. “Picking a fight with me isn’t going to help anything.”
“So?” he argues just to argue. If the situation weren’t so sad, Jeremy would probably laugh. “I’m sorry,” Noah sighs. “It’s just... moving out here and starting this life was supposed to be the right decision. But I just feel like everything sucks and it’s never going to get better.” He rubs at his forehead for a second, frowning.
The laughing feeling went away pretty quickly after that. “It is, though. It’s going to be okay, I promise.” Noah shoots him a skeptical look, but Jeremy keeps going. “I mean it! I meant everything I said. You’re a catch. You’ve got a whole crazy-bright future here. This is not the end of your life, got it?”
Noah purses his lips, thinking. “I know I should know that, but it’s like- I had it, you know? I had everything I wanted, and I let it get away from me. What if that was my shot? At having someone, you know,” he shrugs, embarrassed. “Love me. What if that was my only-?”
“No way,” Jeremy cuts him off. “You’re going to find someone. Luke, someone else, I don’t know. But you will.”
“Oh yeah?” Noah leans back into the couch with a sigh, shoulder resting slightly against Jeremy’s. “How many guys do you know would want to be with a fucked-up, formerly brain-damaged starving artist who’s still in love with his ex?”
“I would,” he says without thinking. Really without thinking. He blames it on the Teer Drop (which, by the way, is not a gay name). But for some reason, once it’s out in the universe, Jeremy doesn’t want to take it back.
“Y-you... what?” Noah turns his head to stare. But his body hasn’t moved, and suddenly their faces are close. Very close. Way close.
But not tooclose, because neither of them moves. Jeremy can see every shade of blue in his eyes, and it’s a little hypnotic. He swallows before saying again. “I would.”
And then he kisses him.
-In The Future
The knock at the door startles him out of his bumbling, embarrassingly awkward efforts to tie his tie. And he almost laughs at that. Another knock shakes him out of those memories. “Who is it?” he calls out cautiously. After all, there are traditions for this sort of thing.
“The best man,” comes the answer.
Luke rolls his eyes. “There is no best man,” he reminds as he opens the door.
Jeremy stands there with his smirk in place. “But if there was, it would totally be me.”
“God, don’t start that again,” he groans, stepping back into the room and letting Jeremy follow him in. “You know that’s the whole reason we’re not having best men or maids of honor or anything, right? Because you guys couldn’t stop arguing about it?”
Jeremy shrugs, leaning back to perch on the table next to Luke’s mirror. “I just don’t see how Casey or Aaron or Ameera-”
“Or Jade,” Luke chimes in.
“Or Jade,” Jeremy nods. “I don’t see how they think they deserve it over me.”
Another roll of his eyes. “And that’s why we did away with it all together.” He fiddles with his tie again. “What are you doing here, anyway? Shouldn’t you be seated? Or, I don’t know, bugging Noah?”
“Bugging you is way more fun,” Jeremy grins. “Besides, Noah’s already got a visitor.”
“Who?” Luke frowns, glares, sighs, starts to retie the damn thing again.
“Your dad,” Jeremy’s barely holding in his laughter now, and it bursts out at the look now on Luke’s face. “I’m sure it’s completely wonderful and he’s saying stuff that’ll make Noah shuffle his feet and blush, but I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a hint of ‘don’t mess with my boy’ in there too,” he teases.
“Oh Jesus,” Luke shakes his head. And then a thought flashes through his brain. “That’s why you’re here, aren’t you?”
Jeremy nods a little. “Well, I’m not here to make you blush, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“I’m asking what you are here for,” Luke throws back.
A shrug. “Noah doesn’t exactly have family to come in here and speak on his behalf. So I’m going to.” He levels a steady gaze at Luke, who returns it just as firmly. “I know you love him. I know you two belong together. But if you hurt him, if you screw this up, I will break both your elbows and marry him myself.” Then he grins wide and slaps Luke on the back. “Don’t mess with my boy.”
Luke wants to glare and pout, he really does. “Do you really think that’s going to happen?”
“With you two? Lord only knows,” Jeremy still has that smirk in place, but he softens a little. “No. I really don’t. I’m just fulfilling my duty.”
“You’re not the best man,” Luke says again.
“Yeah, sure,” he winks and hops of the table. “But we both know I totally am.” He’s heading for the door when Luke suddenly has to say something.
“I never thanked you,” he calls out. Jeremy stops, turns to look at him again. “For being there for Noah.”
Jeremy almost, almost, flinches. “It’s not like I’ve always-”
“Hey,” Luke holds up a hand to interrupt him. “If you’re talking about what happened last year, don’t. It was a fight. Everyone fights. I mean, hello,” he waves that hand between them. “Look at you and me.”
“Very very true,” Jeremy murmurs, relaxing again. “It’s just, thinking about that whole thing, sometimes I can’t believe that I almost lost him- both of you, actually- just because I was jealous.”
“Well, you have good taste,” Luke shrugs.
“He could’ve gotten hurt because of me,” Jeremy points out.
“He got shot because of me,” Luke argues right back. “And somehow I’ve still convinced him to marry me. He isn’t someone who lets go of people.”
“Yeah,” Jeremy nods. “Still, you have to admit it’s a little weird how we’re after everything we’ve been through-”
“Jesus, dude, just accept my thanks!” Luke whines. He looks Jeremy straight in the eye again. “Thank you. For giving him someone like you to count on.” He rolls his eyes again, because he’s really good at it. “And for kicking my ass when I needed it, kicking his when he needed it.”
Jeremy’s face turns into a mixture of bravado and ‘aw shucks.’ “Well, you guys make it so easy sometimes.”
“Shut up,” Luke finally gets his tie into an acceptable knot. “Thanks for the talk.”
Jeremy opens the door to head back outside to the beach. “I’m not thanking you back, Snyder. For, you know, being my friend and making Noah happy and all that. Because that would be so gay.”
“Go away now, please,” Luke lets out a long-suffering sigh, doing a horrible job of hiding his smile.
Jeremy salutes on his way out. “Your tie is crooked,” he hollers just before disappearing around the corner. Luke hurries forward to yell out some sort of awesome comeback, but stops in the doorway. Noah has just stepped out of the room he was getting ready in.
For a second Luke forgets all about his tie. He forgets he’s wearing one. He forgets why he’s wearing one. All he knows is that’s the man he’s going to marry. It takes him a second to lock his knees and stand upright.
Noah doesn’t see him yet, stepping into Jeremy’s path. “Hey.”
“Hey!” Jeremy does an exaggerated look up and down. “You make a beautiful bride, man.”
“Shut up,” Noah grumbles. “I can’t get my tie to look right. Are you sure I can’t ask Luke to-”
“Noah, seriously, trust me when I say you two really shouldn’t tempt any ‘good luck’ fates right before a wedding. Especially an outdoor one, there’s always the threat of natural disasters and terrorist attacks and whatnot. Suffer an unkempt tie, buddy.”
“Yep,” Noah sighs. “You’re still an asshole after all these years.”
Jeremy laughs, throws an arm around Noah. Where at one time that would’ve pissed Luke off, even just a little bit, now he just grins at the way Noah hugs him back. “We haven’t watched TLK in awhile,” he hears his fiancé-for-five-more-minutes say. “Maybe some time next week?”
“Why not tonight?” Jeremy blinks innocently.
“Asshole,” Noah says again, shoving him away.
Jeremy pats him on the shoulder lightly, his smile softening to something real. “I’ll see you at the after-party, Mayer-Snyder.”
Luke is sure Noah says something back, but the way his face lights up at the mention of his new last name, Luke isn’t sure he’s be able process words. It’s not just that Noah’s face looks gorgeous, it’s that he looks that happy to be with Luke. He leans against the doorjamb, watches Noah and Jeremy hug one more time, and can’t help but grin himself.
That’s the man he’s about to marry.
THE END!
Author: carolinablu85
Word Count: 5,000
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not even really Jeremy. Title from a Sam Cooke song ;)
Warning: semi-AU, as in: based on RPG on FB/Twitter, slight Noah/OMC
Summary: Noah and Jeremy’s firsts.
A/N: This is purely, purely for aimezetmusique . Because she’s been working her ass off for a good cause. Because the people who deserve recognition are the ones who don’t want or ask for it. Because when someone is ignorant/stupid/insulting/annoying/bitchy on the internet, most of us want to come up with the perfect retort or argument. She wants to come up with the most positive way to counteract it. And not just think it- she actually then goes and does it. That’s how japan_calls got started, basically. That’s how that Other Group on FB got started. That’s how lovingonlove got started. And that’s amazing. I don’t care what age you’re turning this summer, Tanya- I want to be like you when I grow up.
-September
When Mr. Larson from the fourth floor mentions on the elevator that a new tenant is moving in soon, Jeremy doesn’t think much of it. When Mrs. King says while they check their mail that the new tenant is moving onto their floor, he fakes his interest and then forgets the conversation minutes later.
But when Leila from the floor below winks in the parking garage and says the new guy is their age, cute, and “old Mrs. Grant already hates him” (which at this point is basically code for ‘dude is gay’), Jeremy decides he has to see for himself.
He skips the elevator the next morning and heads for the stairs, which will conveniently take him past the new guy’s apartment. And lo and behold, there’s someone standing at 3G, struggling to open the door while carrying two large boxes.
And whoa. Not just any someone. A tall, dark, and handsome someone. Really tall. Really handsome. Really handsome. Well, it is LA, isn’t it? Aspiring model, maybe?
Right at that moment, the stack of boxes starts to topple out of the guy’s hands and fall avalanche-like towards the floor. “Damn it,” the guy mutters, glaring down at the debris at his feet.
His ‘innate Boy-Scoutness,’ as his friends like to call it, has Jeremy stepping forward. “Hey. Need some help?” He bounces a little on his feet when the guy looks up. Partly because he’s a little thrown by how blue those eyes are, and partly because the guy looks even more thrown than he does.
“Um, sure. Thanks,” he lets a smile show up halfway on his face, still a bit wary. He opens his mouth and then shuts it again, as though unsure of what he’s supposed to say next.
Jeremy can’t help but smile at that. “I’m Jeremy. I live down the hall.”
“Noah,” new neighbor finally gets a name. “I live here.”
It takes Jeremy a second to realize he’s joking, and he decides he kinda likes this Noah. He gives his best Boy Scout smile and crouches down next to the guy, helping him pile things back into the fallen boxes. “How long have you been in LA?”
Noah, he notices, is ridiculously precise and quick with placing everything back in the correct box. Moved a lot as a kid or OCD, Jeremy guesses. Maybe both. Noah pauses to glance at his watch before answering the question. “Four hours and seventeen minutes.”
He chuckles. “Wow, a newbie. Where’d you come from, Noah?”
Noah almost looks surprised that there’s a follow-up question, or that Jeremy is saying his name, or something. “Oh, um, all over. Illinois most recently.”
All over. So he probably did move around as a kid. Jeremy takes another long look at him, ignoring (for now) the way Noah’s voice strained at the word ‘Illinois.’ Emotional And Mysterious Life Story, Party of One? “You living here by yourself?” he asks instead.
“Yeah,” comes the short reply, almost bitten off, almost sighed at the same time.
Oh yeah. He’s definitely got a story. Normally this would have Jeremy running for the non-dysfunctional hills, but now... He’s intrigued. And, damn it, he just can’t seem to stay away from the ‘wounded puppy’ types.
Noah offers another tentative smile, and the unnaturally natural beauty of it pretty much seals the deal. “Thanks. I can probably manage from here, if you have somewhere you have to-”
Jeremy waves a hand to interrupt him. “Nah, nowhere special. Besides, best way for me to snoop through your place is if you invite me in.” He takes one of the boxes out of Noah’s hands.
Noah lets out a laugh as he opens the door, though it sounds almost forced. Or reluctant. Like he isn’t sure how to laugh with random strangers. “So you’re saying I might as well get it over with and let you in?”
Jeremy smirks. “You learn fast, Noah.” He winks as he steps inside, and has to hide a larger grin when Noah blushes. A glance around confirms his theory of Noah’s moving experience- everything is neatly placed and labeled and organized. It’s like the Container Store threw up in this tiny one bedroom apartment.
Though there’s not a lot of ‘everything,’ he sees. It would be Spartan and depressing if not for the carefully stacked DVDs and classic film posters on the apartment’s lone table. A-ha. At least he’s not a Unabomber. Or Amish. “You an actor?”
Noah makes the same face Jeremy’s kindergartners do when he makes them clean up after arts and crafts. “God no.” He follows Jeremy’s gaze over to the posters and sort of shrugs. “Director. Or, I want to be. I got a grant to make a film here, so...” Another possible shrug. “What do you do?”
Jeremy gives himself a mental high-five when he realizes Noah is actually engaging in the conversation. “I’m a teacher. Well, it’s kindergarten, so it’s more like trying to wrangle fifteen kangaroos on crack, but I like it.” Noah smiles a little fondly at that, leaving Jeremy to wonder what family he might’ve left behind in Illinois. Little brother or sister, maybe? “I work weekends as a bartender just down the block. Jones Bar. It’s a nice place, you should come on by. I tend to give free drinks to anyone who lets me snoop in their apartment.”
Noah raises an eyebrow. “So you do this a lot, huh? I’m not special?”
He blinks innocently. “How else am I going to get cute guys to invite me in?” More blushing, and Jeremy wonders if he could do a drinking game to how often he gets Noah to do that. It seems like it’d be a fun (and worthwhile) activity. But for the moment, he decides to take pity on him. “Where do you want this box?”
Noah checks it and for a split second his face freezes. But he turns away so quickly Jeremy isn’t sure it happened at all. “You can, um, set it by the table. I’m not sure where I’m putting it yet.”
“Sure,” Jeremy pretends he didn’t notice anything, but studies the box’s label as he sets it down. There’s a ‘Property of the US Army’ stamp on it, with the handwritten initials ‘WM’ next to it. Interesting. Noah’s last name starts with an M, he notices that on a few of the other boxes. His dad? Brother? This guy is quite the mystery.
He watches Noah put the last box almost reverently on the beat-up old couch in the center of the room. Funny enough, this is the only box with no label whatsoever. Jeremy tries to recall what had been in that box when it overturned, and he remembers a necktie, papers bundled together, and a photo of Noah with some blond person. Judging by the way their arms had been around each other, he guesses Noah’s boyfriend. Or, he amends, studying the look Noah is trying to mask, maybe not a boyfriend anymore.
Yep. Old Mrs. Grant across the hall is going to hate him. But Jeremy... Jeremy is thinking there’s something about this Noah M. And he’s going to find out exactly what it is.
-October
“Really? A cartoon?” Noah’s tone is appropriately film-snob skeptical.
“Cartoons can be classics, can’t they?” Jeremy argues, handing over another bottle of beer and dropping back down onto the couch next to his friend.
“It’s not even twenty years old,” Noah whines, frowning obstinately. Jeremy is more than a little amused at how childlike the guy gets when he’s drunk. “How can it be a classic if it hasn’t even, you know, stood the test of time yet?”
“Hey,” Jeremy crosses his arms defiantly, keeping the smile off his face rather unsuccessfully. And he realizes he’s rather drunk as well. “I had to sit through the Jimmy Stewart marathon you forced upon me last week. My turn. My choice. My movie.”
“But... really?” Noah scrunches up one side of his face. “The Lion King?”
“You said I had to share one of my favorite movies. This is it,” Jeremy maintains, undeterred. He picks up the remote and presses play with as much exaggerated determination as he can muster, finally getting a smile out of Noah. A thought flashes through his brain as the cartoon sun starts to rise on screen, and he turns to Noah. “Didn’t you watch the Disneys as a kid?”
“Shhh,” Noah admonishes. “No talking during the movie.” His eyes are already fixed on the screen, and despite his pouting earlier, he’s completely engrossed already.
Jeremy settles back on the couch, drinking his beer, mostly watching the movie but sometimes watching Noah. He feels himself smiling again when he realizes Noah watches every movie- no matter what- with the same amount of focus and rapt attention.
Which is why he’s a little surprised when, during the stampede scene, Noah starts fidgeting a little, glancing away, peeling at the label on his beer bottle. By the time Simba is told to run away and never return, Noah’s about as off-kilter as Jeremy has ever seen him.
“You okay?” he asks casually, reaching out and resting his arm against the back of the couch. Not touching Noah’s shoulder, but keeping his hand nearby in case.
“Fine,” Noah’s answer is soft but immediate. Almost like a reflex.
Jeremy wants to laugh, not believing him for a second, but he doesn’t want to look patronizing so he keeps his eyes on Timon and Pumbaa instead. “You sure?”
Noah clears his throat, nods. “Yeah. Just, you know, tired. Long day.”
The shorter Noah’s sentences get, the less Jeremy tends to believe him, he’s realized recently. “You still having trouble sleeping?”
Noah twitches for a millisecond, still facing forward. “Just because I don’t get eight hours a night doesn’t mean I’m having trouble.”
“How many hours do you get?” he asks, knowing there’s more to that answer.
Noah shakes his head. “No talking during the movie, Jeremy.”
Jeremy snorts, trying to hold in a laugh. “Either we talk about your sleeping habits or we talk about what’s really bugging you. You can pick.”
The television screen is apparently infinitely more interesting than Jeremy is. “I pick watching the movie. I thought it was your favorite.” He picks up his beer again, taking a long pull from the bottle. “Leave me ’lone. Look.” He nods to the movie. “Rafiki.”
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re infuriatingly stubborn?” Jeremy teases.
“Yeah.” Noah’s answer isn’t quite as lighthearted. Jeremy sobers up a little, puts down his beer, and studies his friend again. Noah’s jaw clenches under the scrutiny, but he still won’t look away from the TV.
“When I first moved here,” Jeremy begins speaking, his voice only a little bit louder than the movie, “it was my first time away from home. First time living completely by myself. And I was scared shitless for awhile.”
Noah doesn’t appear to be listening, but Jeremy knows he is. They sit side-by-side again, shoulders bumping just a little.
He keeps talking. “I mean, it was stupid, right? My family’s only about an hour away. And I grew up just down the road in Santa Monica. It’s not like I was a stranger in a strange land. Except I kinda was, just because it was so different from where I’d come from. And I was so determined to do it myself that, for some reason, I was even more scared. This place was so quiet.”
“Yeah,” Noah seems to agree without realizing it.
“And now time for my deep dark confession,” Jeremy knocks his shoulder into Noah’s harder. “First week I was here? I watched Disney movies every night. That’s right. I used to be that lame,” he adds before Noah can snark. “But, I don’t know. The music and the stories, even just the noise... made me feel less alone. Like the place was less empty.”
Noah nods, clears his throat likely. “Yeah,” he says again. “Why, um, why are you telling me this?”
Jeremy turns to him fully, smiling in what he hopes in an easygoing, gentle way. “If you want to crash here tonight, on the couch? You can. I mean, it’s probably less quiet than back at your place.” He smirks. “You strike me as the ‘wouldn’t dare leave anything electrical plugged in overnight’ type.”
“That’s a little excessive, asshole,” Noah mumbles, a smile slipping in anyway.
He picks up his beer, tipping it in salute. “You already know me so well.”
-November
“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll put it down. Right now.” Noah’s eyes glitter dangerously, and even though it isn’t directed at Jeremy, he feels like taking a step back. Yikes.
And yet, somehow, Ameera just glares right back at him. “No.”
“Meera,” Noah crosses his arms. “I said you could help. Not take over. Step. Away. From the spaghetti.”
“You’re doing it wrong,” she insists, trying to get back to the stove. He sidesteps, blocking her path. “Noah...”
“My apartment. My rules,” he reaches out, spins her around, and gently pushes her back to where Jeremy’s sitting at the kitchen table.
She marches back grudgingly, taking the seat next to Jeremy. “This would be easier for me to accept if you actually let me cook for you once in awhile.”
Jeremy grins at the sigh he hears Noah try to suppress. “I don’t need you to cook for me, Meera.”
She turns to Jeremy, rolling her eyes. “He doesn’t need me to cook for him,” she repeats mockingly, skeptically. “Of course he does. How else am I supposed to make sure he actually eats?”
Jeremy tries to stifle a laugh, because she’s way more serious about this than he thought she’d be. And Noah is getting more and more indignant. “I don’t think he’s anorexic,” he tries to stay diplomatic. He looks good to me, he wants to say.
She huffs. “He’s getting too skinny. Doesn’t he look too skinny?” He opens his mouth to answer (with what, Lord only knows), but she’s already barreling on, back to Noah. “How are you supposed to be commanding and direct hundreds of people on a movie set if you look like Kate Moss?”
He shrugs, pouring the noodles and sauce into serving bowls. “People like Kate Moss.”
“No one likes Kate Moss,” she argues back, standing up again. She smacks his cheek lightly when he starts to argue, shooing him away so she can pull the garlic bread out of the oven for him. “Jeremy?” she badgers from over her shoulder.
He just keeps on grinning. “Hard for me to answer that one. Noah’s way more my type than Kate is.”
Ameera laughs when Noah grumbles and blushes his way to the table. “You both come into my home and make fun of me. Nice.”
Ameera sets the plate of garlic bread down on the center of the table and kisses the top of Noah’s head on her way to her chair. “I’m supposed to nag. Isn’t that what ex-wives do?”
It was almost like she timed that question to coincide with the second Jeremy is taking a sip of his wine. “What?” he chokes out, coughing around the pinot noir. It has to be a joke, at first Jeremy is sure. But Ameera’s affectionate yet bashful smile, and Noah’s bright red blush, tell him it’s not. “Ex-wife? What?”
Noah shoots Ameera that look, the one that says ‘I-do-not-want-to-talk-about-anything-Luke-related-right-now’ (Jeremy knows that look), and shakes his head. “Long story.”
“I would think so,” Jeremy smiles, wanting them to know he’s not freaking out or judging. The way Noah’s shoulders relax (he hadn’t even seen them tense), encourages him on. “Was it, like, a Green Card thing?”
He notices Ameera reach over and squeeze Noah’s hand, pretends he doesn’t. “Yes, it was,” she answers for them.
Jeremy watches Noah’s jaw tighten around whatever emotions he’s trying to keep in, and gives a decisive nod. “You can tell me next time we watch TLK.”
There’s a beat of silence, and then Noah chuckles gratefully, releasing the tension in the room for all three of them. “I can’t believe you gave it an acronym.”
Jeremy tips his wine glass in acknowledgment proudly. “I can’t believe you figured out the acronym so quickly,” he teases right back.
Ameera snorts, shakes her head. “I can’t believe I’m having dinner with two beautiful boys and they’re talking about cartoons.” She glances back towards the kitchen. “I didn’t bring anything for dessert, habibi, I’m sorry. Should we go with ice cream, or-”
Noah cuts her off. “No, I made something.” He glances quickly at Jeremy before answering. “Pecan pie. For Jeremy.”
“For m- what?” Jeremy’s back to shocked.
Noah’s back to blushing. “You said it was your favorite dessert, didn’t you? Your mom used to make it for big family dinners.” He half-shrugs one shoulder. “This is a family dinner.”
Jeremy opens his mouth to say something sappy and grateful and probably embarrassingly cheesy, but he sees Ameera shoot him a look out of the corner of his eye. She shakes her head ever so slightly and pointedly starts eating her spaghetti. “Okay then. We’ll get to that after dinner.” And he can almost hear her voice in his head, He doesn’t want any attention, so hush.
Jeremy smiles instead, says a soft, “Thanks, Noah,” and focuses on his own food. And maybe, just maybe, just a little on the inside, he starts to fall.
-December
“Do you really believe what you said that time? After my birthday?” Noah is swishing around his half-empty glass. It’s a drink of Jeremy’s own creation- Cuervo, Pilsner, a little lime juice. The perfect way to drown your sorrows, with the perfect combo of tequila and beer. He calls it the Teer Drop.
They’ve both already had a couple.
Jeremy frowns, trying to remember just what conversation his buddy his referring to. “What did I say?”
“That there’s no such thing as true love. That I live in a fantasy world.” He’s unconsciously tapping his fingers on his thigh to the beat of whatever Simba’s singing on screen.
Jeremy swallows, doesn’t stare at Noah’s fingers and thigh. “Partly, yeah. I mean, two people can be in love and right for each other and happy, but magic and fate have nothing to do with it. It takes a lot of work. And, sadly, luck.”
“And both people have to want it,” Noah mumbles.
“That helps,” he says gently. “But for all that, I could be completely full of shit, man. I’ve never been in love. What the hell do I know?”
“You know people,” Noah insists. “You get them. You get me. I trust your opinion as much as I’ve ever trusted anyone’s. And you said I should give up on Luke.”
He winces. “I didn’t say that.”
“You meant to,” Noah fires back. “Didn’t you?” His voice is combative, like he wants to pick a fight. Like he wants Jeremy to yell at him.
“No,” he answers calmly. “I don’t think you should- or could- give up on anything. It’s not how you’re wired.”
“But?” Noah supplies.
“But,” he acquiesces, “I don’t think you should pin all your hopes and dreams on one guy loving you back. You have way more to offer than just being some guy’s boyfriend.”
“He’s not just ‘some guy,’” Noah argues, jaw setting stubbornly.
“But he’s not everything, either,” he replies. “Noah, I know you don’t want to believe this, but you’re kind of a catch. And plenty of people would agree with me if you just... put yourself out there a little.”
“Like Luke is?” his voice is like a mix of bitter old man and sad little boy.
“Like Luke is, what?”
“Putting himself out there. Apparently,” Noah shrugs, points to Jeremy’s laptop. “Guess you haven’t been on Facebook today. Jade said something on his wall about... about some other guy.” He deliberately gulps down more of his drink. “Teer Drop is such a gay name, by the way.”
“Noah. Wait, what...?” He shakes his head. “Is it for real, though? Not just Jade-Talk? And why didn’t you tell me earlier? Are you, are you okay?”
Noah bites the inside of his cheek. “It’s fine. You were right, weren’t you? Thinking things will magically work out is stupid. And at Thanksgiving, when I was home with him and his family, you were the one who warned me not to get my hopes up. So I’m still stupid. Right?”
“I... I don’t know,” he answers honestly. He puts his hand on Noah’s back, rubbing consolingly. Ignores the slight pang of jealously when he realizes Noah still refers to that town and that place as ‘home.’ “You and Luke have a history not many people on this earth can relate to, man. It’s complicated. Everything that’s ever going to happen between you two will be complicated.”
“Thank you for that non-answer,” Noah snorts, glaring half-heartedly. He finishes off his drink.
Jeremy glares right back. “Picking a fight with me isn’t going to help anything.”
“So?” he argues just to argue. If the situation weren’t so sad, Jeremy would probably laugh. “I’m sorry,” Noah sighs. “It’s just... moving out here and starting this life was supposed to be the right decision. But I just feel like everything sucks and it’s never going to get better.” He rubs at his forehead for a second, frowning.
The laughing feeling went away pretty quickly after that. “It is, though. It’s going to be okay, I promise.” Noah shoots him a skeptical look, but Jeremy keeps going. “I mean it! I meant everything I said. You’re a catch. You’ve got a whole crazy-bright future here. This is not the end of your life, got it?”
Noah purses his lips, thinking. “I know I should know that, but it’s like- I had it, you know? I had everything I wanted, and I let it get away from me. What if that was my shot? At having someone, you know,” he shrugs, embarrassed. “Love me. What if that was my only-?”
“No way,” Jeremy cuts him off. “You’re going to find someone. Luke, someone else, I don’t know. But you will.”
“Oh yeah?” Noah leans back into the couch with a sigh, shoulder resting slightly against Jeremy’s. “How many guys do you know would want to be with a fucked-up, formerly brain-damaged starving artist who’s still in love with his ex?”
“I would,” he says without thinking. Really without thinking. He blames it on the Teer Drop (which, by the way, is not a gay name). But for some reason, once it’s out in the universe, Jeremy doesn’t want to take it back.
“Y-you... what?” Noah turns his head to stare. But his body hasn’t moved, and suddenly their faces are close. Very close. Way close.
But not tooclose, because neither of them moves. Jeremy can see every shade of blue in his eyes, and it’s a little hypnotic. He swallows before saying again. “I would.”
And then he kisses him.
-In The Future
The knock at the door startles him out of his bumbling, embarrassingly awkward efforts to tie his tie. And he almost laughs at that. Another knock shakes him out of those memories. “Who is it?” he calls out cautiously. After all, there are traditions for this sort of thing.
“The best man,” comes the answer.
Luke rolls his eyes. “There is no best man,” he reminds as he opens the door.
Jeremy stands there with his smirk in place. “But if there was, it would totally be me.”
“God, don’t start that again,” he groans, stepping back into the room and letting Jeremy follow him in. “You know that’s the whole reason we’re not having best men or maids of honor or anything, right? Because you guys couldn’t stop arguing about it?”
Jeremy shrugs, leaning back to perch on the table next to Luke’s mirror. “I just don’t see how Casey or Aaron or Ameera-”
“Or Jade,” Luke chimes in.
“Or Jade,” Jeremy nods. “I don’t see how they think they deserve it over me.”
Another roll of his eyes. “And that’s why we did away with it all together.” He fiddles with his tie again. “What are you doing here, anyway? Shouldn’t you be seated? Or, I don’t know, bugging Noah?”
“Bugging you is way more fun,” Jeremy grins. “Besides, Noah’s already got a visitor.”
“Who?” Luke frowns, glares, sighs, starts to retie the damn thing again.
“Your dad,” Jeremy’s barely holding in his laughter now, and it bursts out at the look now on Luke’s face. “I’m sure it’s completely wonderful and he’s saying stuff that’ll make Noah shuffle his feet and blush, but I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a hint of ‘don’t mess with my boy’ in there too,” he teases.
“Oh Jesus,” Luke shakes his head. And then a thought flashes through his brain. “That’s why you’re here, aren’t you?”
Jeremy nods a little. “Well, I’m not here to make you blush, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“I’m asking what you are here for,” Luke throws back.
A shrug. “Noah doesn’t exactly have family to come in here and speak on his behalf. So I’m going to.” He levels a steady gaze at Luke, who returns it just as firmly. “I know you love him. I know you two belong together. But if you hurt him, if you screw this up, I will break both your elbows and marry him myself.” Then he grins wide and slaps Luke on the back. “Don’t mess with my boy.”
Luke wants to glare and pout, he really does. “Do you really think that’s going to happen?”
“With you two? Lord only knows,” Jeremy still has that smirk in place, but he softens a little. “No. I really don’t. I’m just fulfilling my duty.”
“You’re not the best man,” Luke says again.
“Yeah, sure,” he winks and hops of the table. “But we both know I totally am.” He’s heading for the door when Luke suddenly has to say something.
“I never thanked you,” he calls out. Jeremy stops, turns to look at him again. “For being there for Noah.”
Jeremy almost, almost, flinches. “It’s not like I’ve always-”
“Hey,” Luke holds up a hand to interrupt him. “If you’re talking about what happened last year, don’t. It was a fight. Everyone fights. I mean, hello,” he waves that hand between them. “Look at you and me.”
“Very very true,” Jeremy murmurs, relaxing again. “It’s just, thinking about that whole thing, sometimes I can’t believe that I almost lost him- both of you, actually- just because I was jealous.”
“Well, you have good taste,” Luke shrugs.
“He could’ve gotten hurt because of me,” Jeremy points out.
“He got shot because of me,” Luke argues right back. “And somehow I’ve still convinced him to marry me. He isn’t someone who lets go of people.”
“Yeah,” Jeremy nods. “Still, you have to admit it’s a little weird how we’re after everything we’ve been through-”
“Jesus, dude, just accept my thanks!” Luke whines. He looks Jeremy straight in the eye again. “Thank you. For giving him someone like you to count on.” He rolls his eyes again, because he’s really good at it. “And for kicking my ass when I needed it, kicking his when he needed it.”
Jeremy’s face turns into a mixture of bravado and ‘aw shucks.’ “Well, you guys make it so easy sometimes.”
“Shut up,” Luke finally gets his tie into an acceptable knot. “Thanks for the talk.”
Jeremy opens the door to head back outside to the beach. “I’m not thanking you back, Snyder. For, you know, being my friend and making Noah happy and all that. Because that would be so gay.”
“Go away now, please,” Luke lets out a long-suffering sigh, doing a horrible job of hiding his smile.
Jeremy salutes on his way out. “Your tie is crooked,” he hollers just before disappearing around the corner. Luke hurries forward to yell out some sort of awesome comeback, but stops in the doorway. Noah has just stepped out of the room he was getting ready in.
For a second Luke forgets all about his tie. He forgets he’s wearing one. He forgets why he’s wearing one. All he knows is that’s the man he’s going to marry. It takes him a second to lock his knees and stand upright.
Noah doesn’t see him yet, stepping into Jeremy’s path. “Hey.”
“Hey!” Jeremy does an exaggerated look up and down. “You make a beautiful bride, man.”
“Shut up,” Noah grumbles. “I can’t get my tie to look right. Are you sure I can’t ask Luke to-”
“Noah, seriously, trust me when I say you two really shouldn’t tempt any ‘good luck’ fates right before a wedding. Especially an outdoor one, there’s always the threat of natural disasters and terrorist attacks and whatnot. Suffer an unkempt tie, buddy.”
“Yep,” Noah sighs. “You’re still an asshole after all these years.”
Jeremy laughs, throws an arm around Noah. Where at one time that would’ve pissed Luke off, even just a little bit, now he just grins at the way Noah hugs him back. “We haven’t watched TLK in awhile,” he hears his fiancé-for-five-more-minutes say. “Maybe some time next week?”
“Why not tonight?” Jeremy blinks innocently.
“Asshole,” Noah says again, shoving him away.
Jeremy pats him on the shoulder lightly, his smile softening to something real. “I’ll see you at the after-party, Mayer-Snyder.”
Luke is sure Noah says something back, but the way his face lights up at the mention of his new last name, Luke isn’t sure he’s be able process words. It’s not just that Noah’s face looks gorgeous, it’s that he looks that happy to be with Luke. He leans against the doorjamb, watches Noah and Jeremy hug one more time, and can’t help but grin himself.
That’s the man he’s about to marry.
THE END!