Fic: Never Did Run Smooth, Part 3/4
Never Did Run Smooth
Part 3/4
Pairing(s) in the story: Jemaine/Bret (Flight of the Conchords)
Author Name/Pen Name: she_burns1
Beta: lordstarfish
Disclaimer: I do not own Flight of the Conchords, or Hbo, or Bret, or Jemaine…though I will glad take donations of Bret/Jemaine!
Rating of story: R
Word Count: 3,347
Warnings: Um…steaminess and bad words….though probably not the bad words some people want to see - lol.
Brief summary: The course of true love never did run smooth-William Shakespeare
“I can’t believe we took him back as a manager.” Jemaine grumbled as he and Bret re-entered their apartment building.
“Come on, he wasn’t that bad, ‘sides, he was going to jump otherwise.”
“No, he wouldn’t have. You saw how high up we were. No way would he have jumped.”
“Still, it’s nice to have him back.”
“Hnn.”
“And you missed him.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“A little bit?”
“No.”
“A little bit.”
Jemaine’s head rolled about his shoulders and he made a non-committal sound that Bret accepted as a ‘yes’. Bret pushed the button for the elevator and they both stood waiting patiently.
Jemaine eyed Bret, “Why did you put that suit on?”
Bret looked at him, eyes narrowed as he let out a questioning sound. Jemaine pointed at his outfit, “The suit. You changed into it before we went over to Murray’s. Isn’t that the suit you sometimes wear when you’re holding signs?”
“Oh yeah, it is.”
They lapsed into silence again as the elevator dinged and the doors opened. They both stepped inside and the doors closed. Jemaine waited a few more minutes for Bret to elaborate but when he didn’t he asked again, “So? Why do you have the suit on?”
Bret shrugged; lips screwed up to one side, “Dunno. Just figured, I mean, we were going to see Murray and I kind of thought it was our first band meeting in a long time. Made sense to dress more than casual for it.”
“So…you knew we’d take him back as a manager?”
“I had an inkling.”
“How?”
“What?”
“How did you…why did you think we’d take him back. What gave you an inkling?”
“Uh, oh, something Dave said.”
“Dave?”
Bret murmured an affirmative when suddenly the elevator groaned and shook. Both Bret and Jemaine braced themselves as the lights inside flickered for a moment. They both frowned.
“What just happened?”
There was another wrenching groan, then silence.
Jemaine frowned, bending his knees up and down a little, “I... hm. I think we’ve stopped moving.”
“You think?”
“Doesn’t feel like we’re going up anymore…or down. Feels like we’ve just…stopped.”
“What, so the elevator’s broken?”
“Seems that way, lift’s got no…lift.”
“It’s been slow before. Maybe it’s just going extra slow.”
Jemaine shook his head, “No. Nope. Think we’re stopped.”
“We trapped in here?”
“Appear to be.”
“Flip!”
“Nothing to worry about. Imagine it’ll start back up eventually.”
“But-but how long is that going to take?!”
Jemaine shrugged, “Dunno.”
Bret swallowed convulsively and tugged at his tie, loosing it a bit at his throat, “Flip. Flip flip flip-”
Jemaine’s eyes narrowed as he studied his friend. “What’s wrong?”
“We’re trapped in here!”
“So?”
“What if there’s not enough air?”
Jemaine took in a loud breath through his nose. “Hmm, no, seems to be enough.”
“What if we run out of food?”
“We don’t have any food.”
”So we’ve all ready run out?!”
“We didn’t have any to begin with, what’s wrong with you?”
“What about water? Do we have that?”
“No. Bret, calm down, it’ll be fine. I told you, we’ll be out soon enough.”
“Flipflipflip-”
“Are you…afraid?”
“This elevator…’s bit small.”
“It’s fine. Look, Bret, you need to relax. Don’t think about it. We won’t be in here long-”
“How do you know that? What if we’re in here for ages and ages…what if we die in here…”
“We won’t. Trust me.”
“What...what if we have to eat each other to survive?”
“Don’t think that’ll happen. Be realistic, Bret. ‘Sides, I can’t eat you…you’d be all stringy…don’t have much meat on you to begin with. As for me, well, you could eat me but I’m pretty sure I’d make you sick-”
“Oh god…”
“Look, you just need to think about something else. We’ll be moving soon enough.”
“But you don’t know that for sure-”
“Of course I do. Would it help if I promised you the elevator’s going to move soon and that we’re not going to die in here and have to eat each other?”
“…yes.”
“Well, technically I can’t, but to help you, I will.”
“Will what?”
“Promise.”
“Promise what?”
“I promise we’ll get out of here soon.”
“Oh,” Bret let out a big breath of relief, “Thanks, man.”
“No problem.”
”So…what should we do while we wait?”
Jemaine sat down on the floor of the elevator, “I don’t know. Too bad we don’t have a pack of cards or something.”
“Yeah.” Bret sat down next to him.
Jemaine cleared his throat and started talking, “Do you really believe Murray when he went on about how he had a dated all those celebrities? Because I really don’t-”
Bret took off his jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his white dress shirt. He loosed his tie some more and then he noticed Jemaine had stopped talking and was just staring at him.
Bret frowned, “What?”
Jemaine licked his lips, blinking rapidly, “Wh-what are you doing?”
“It’s hot in here. Just making myself more comfortable.”
“Oh,” Jemaine looked away, then back, then away again. He shifted where he sat and seemed to be recollecting himself mentally.
There were a few moments of silence before he started up again. Bret watched Jemaine as talked. Jemaine had probably made the right move in not getting dressed up for their reunion with Murray. He wore a simple short sleeve blue shirt and regular pants - nothing fancy, nothing constrictive. He wished he hadn't worn the suit now, he thought regretfully, tugging at his collar again, before undoing the first button or so.
Bret felt unreasonably warm and he wondered vaguely if it was getting hotter in the elevator. Maybe the reason they had stopped was because there was a fire in the building and it was slowly building up beneath them, turning the metal elevator into something of a big metal pot they would boil in.
He shook his head and knew he needed to do what Jemaine had told him. He needed to relax and not think about it. He needed to remind himself that soon the elevator would move and all would be right with the world. They wouldn’t be here forever. Besides, Jemaine had promised and, for the most part, Jemaine kept his promises.
Actually, he supposed if he really wanted to distract himself he could just think about Jemaine as he had done for the past few days. His friend had practically overwhelmed all other thoughts in his mind recently as he had tried to brainstorm ways to talk to him about his newfound feelings.
He thought about his sign boss, Eddie. Eddie had said that Jemaine thinks too much. Maybe that was Bret’s current problem. He was thinking too much about this. And David Bowie had also told him it didn’t hurt to do something completely outrageous.
They were trapped in the elevator and he did need something to distract him. No time better than the present, right?
Heart racing, Bret took in a deep breath and made up his mind, while Jemaine babbled incessantly, filling the stuffy air between them. Bret tuned back in.
“…I don’t know. We should play that game. Yeah. The one we played on the plane to America, where we say girls we find hot back and forth. I’ll go first. Ok, um, this is harder than I thought. Maybe you should go first -”
“Jemaine-”
“No, you have to say girls’ names. I’m not a girl.”
“Jemaine-”
“Is this helping, Bret? I thought if I chattered on and, with the game, I’d distract you from-”
“No, Jemaine, listen to me.”
Jemaine stopped talking and just looked at him. Bret’s heart was pounding loud in his ears. Just breathe.
“Jemaine, I’ve…there’s something I want to talk to you about…”
Jemaine nodded. Bret didn’t continue. Jemaine motioned at him, “Ok. And…”
“It’s about…remember that time…” Bret took in another shaky breath and ran a hand through his hair, “This is going badly.”
“Well…it hasn’t really gone anywhere. You need to say something more for it to go in one direction or the other. At this point, I’ve been doing most of the work in our conversation and I think it’s going pretty well-”
“IwanttotalktoyouaboutTopGun-”
Jemaine frowned and he leaned closer to Bret, “Sorry. Didn’t get all that-”
“Iwanttotalktoyou-”
“Bret, Bret, you’re going too fast. I can’t keep up with…”
“I want to talk to you about Top Gun!” Bret managed to split it up a bit this time but it still came out exceptionally fast. However, Jemaine understood him this time. His whole body went rigid and he pulled back from Bret, rising to his feet.
“What about it.”
“Well…remember when we watched it?”
“Vaguely.”
“And…and after we watched it?”
Jemaine’s face was a blank, cold slate.
“…when you and I…when we…”
“We swore never to talk about it.”
Bret, feeling better at finally starting this long over due discussion, relaxed considerably as he also rose to stand, “Well, you swore - I didn’t really have a chance to say much of anything before you ran away.”
“I didn’t run away.”
“You ran into the bathroom and hid in there.”
“I was getting ready for bed…in a very not-hiding manner.”
“Yeah, well, you still disappeared too quickly for us to talk about it.”
“That’s because there’s nothing to talk about. It didn’t happen.”
“But it did.”
“No, it didn’t.”
“But it did.”
“It didn’t.”
“Did.”
“Look, what do you want me to do? What would be helped by our talking about it? It was just…something that happened. Can we just move on from it, please?”
“But, I mean, why did it happen? Why did you…I mean, you sort of started it, man.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“You kissed me on the chin. Then on the mouth. You started it.”
“I ended it and that’s all that really matters. It’s over now.”
“But it’s different now.”
“No, it’s not. Not unless we make it different, which you’re doing by forcing me into this conversation. No. I’m not talking about this.”
“Were you pretending I was a girl when you kissed me? Like the spooning except this time I didn’t have a wig on?”
Jemaine folded his arms and refused to look at Bret. Bret was undeterred, “Because I don’t see how you could. What with the beard and all. Unless you were imagining you were making out with a really hairy girl.”
Jemaine didn’t elaborate, so Bret continued, “I mean, if you weren’t imagining anyone else…I…I would be ok with that.”
Jemaine did look at Bret now, stunned, “What?”
“Well, I mean, if - when you were kissing me you were…thinking of me…if-if you wanted to kiss me, I…I wouldn’t mind so much…”
“What are you saying?”
“Um…that I like you?”
“We’re best friends.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“You’ve always liked me.”
“Yeah, but now I like like you.”
“You like like…like me…but…but that would make you…gay.”
“Just a bit. And only for you, really.”
Jemaine looked so astounded that Bret almost felt bad for telling him. He licked his lips and trudged on, “I mean, I tried, you know…to see if I could be into other guys. I kissed Dave and-”
“You what?!”
“-I wasn’t into it too much. And then Dave, I mean, he tipped me off about Murray and he showed me…he showed me a video of you…from the webcam-”
Jemaine looked ill, his face pasty white as his jaw worked.
“I remember you were upset about being alone with the webcam that day. I didn’t know…”
“Bret,” Jemaine rubbed at his temples, “Please stop.”
“I mean, d’you…d’you like like me too?”
“Bret…please…” Jemaine’s begging was so pitiful that Bret almost did, but he couldn’t help it, he was driven to continue.
“I mean, if you do that would be…I mean, we could…”
“Bret, how do you think this will work?” Jemaine asked, voice hard.
“Pardon?”
“You and me, if we-”
“Oh. Like how things are now…except we’d make out more often.”
Jemaine seemed stuck on that for a moment, as if he hadn’t been expecting that answer. But he found his footing and started again, “But what about the band?”
“What? You want me to quit the band so we can date?”
“No, I - stop trying to quit the band.”
“I would quit the band to date you. I did it to date Coco.”
“You’d quit the band if it got you free chips.”
“…does it?”
“No, look, Bret, this wouldn’t work.”
“What wouldn’t?”
“Our…if you and I had…had a relationship. It wouldn’t work.”
“Sure, it would. Nothing would change - except for the kissing.”
“No, it - we’d lose our female fan base. We wouldn’t…be accessible to them.”
“We’ve already lost Mel, so what does that matter?”
“If we get in a relationship you’ll be all…clingy and - and fussy.”
“No, I won’t.”
“Yes, you will.”
“No, I won’t get fussy.”
“You will get fussy.”
“Not fussy, nope.”
“Yes, very fussy,” Jemaine sighed, pushing up his glasses, “You’d get all fussy on me and the band would suffer for it. Our friendship would suffer for it. What if we got in a fight before a gig? What if you dumped me or I cheated on you or-”
“You’d cheat on me?”
“I don’t - I don’t know. Maybe. I mean, you have to think, Bret, what if I met a hot girl or…or you met a hot girl,” Jemaine refused to admit it was more likely Bret would meet a hot girl and leave him. He refused to say it aloud.
“I wouldn’t…Jemaine, I wouldn’t leave you.”
Damn. Apparently Bret could read minds. Bastard.
“Bret…”
“Maybe…I mean, maybe if we,” Bret leaned closer to him, “We could kiss again.”
“NO.”
“Come on, we could just practice…just see…I mean, maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I’m remembering it better than it was. Maybe if we kiss nothing’ll happen or it’ll be bad and I won’t like you anymore.”
Jemaine looked very pained all of the sudden, “No.”
Bret remembered Dave’s suggestion to be aggressive and his eyes narrowed, “You know, I-I don’t have to ask for your permission.”
“What? What are you-?”
Jemaine’s words died as Bret’s hands captured his face and he quickly dived in, his lips meeting Jemaine’s with a soft yet short impact.
In fact it had been so short that Bret leaned back a little and tried to remember it. His own lips felt…good. Tingly. He mumbled under his breath, “That wasn’t so bad.”
The end of his sentence was practically no more than a breath of air as Jemaine let out a frustrated growl. He pushed Bret hard back against one wall of the elevator, the noise of it jarring.
Jemaine’s hands shot out, curling into Bret’s hair as he crushed their lips together. This kiss was hungrier than the last and a bit more similar to their first kiss. There was bit of an uncomfortable fumbling but then it settled out like kicked up dust, becoming more effortless. Bret didn’t have to work as hard to remember this kiss as it was longer, Jemaine’s mouth still on his.
Jemaine’s lips were full, warm and urgent…Bret moved his own mouth slightly, hardly able to keep up, and then somehow there was something wet and he realized his mouth was open and Jemaine’s tongue was ducking inside and there was a sound coming from somewhere deep, resounding like the steady booming beat of a drum.
It was hard to say how much time passed and the only sounds were that of the deep boom, hushed heavy breathing and the audible noise of kissing. Bret could almost hear a song in all of it.
Jemaine was all over Bret, his hands were roaming everywhere. He was tugging at his tie and the buttons on his shirt and Bret felt lightheaded. He didn’t want it to stop.
But Jemaine did. He pulled back and cursed, a flat palm smacking the elevator wall near Bret’s head. He hissed at the pain that coursed through his hand and pulled away, “That was wrong…we can’t…that didn’t happen...again.”
Bret found his voice despite his breathlessness, “But it did. Jemaine…I…I liked it. Please…” He reached for his friend again.
“Bret,” Jemaine’s voice was hopeless, his eyes sad as he drew far away from him. He stood at the other side of the elevator, as far from Bret as possible, shaking his head, “We’re friends.”
“I know.”
“We’re friends…and I want us to stay friends.”
Bret’s eyes were watering again and he felt cold. Blood flooding down to his feet as Jemaine kept talking.
“If we….do this…if we talk about it…we won’t be.”
Bret couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe.
His eyes were round saucers and he shook his head, disbelieving, “What…are you serious?”
Jemaine wouldn’t look at him. He tried to speak but couldn’t. He merely nodded his head.
And suddenly Bret was filled with a heat that swiftly replaced the cold. A hot, angry heat. He looked away from Jemaine, “Fine.”
He was tired of feeling pathetic and helpless, mad at himself for being so hurt and mad at Jemaine for being so... Jemaine.
“Bret….Bret, don’t be angry.”
Bret wouldn’t look at Jemaine. He would not look at him. He wouldn’t look, and his right leg kept shuffling. He kind of felt like dancing and cursing and throwing things. But he just stood there and his face was hot and everything was awful and cruel.
He wished in vain the elevator would move and he wouldn’t be trapped in here anymore. That’s what he was. Trapped. Buried under this weight of silence and he was filling up with so many ugly emotions he felt he would burst open.
He didn’t burst, but his vision was getting terrible. Everything was blurry and when he breathed his chest hurt. Oh god, what was that noise he had made? Please don’t let it have been a sob, please, please, please-
Move elevator!
Flip, just - move!
But no deliverance seemed forthcoming. He shoved against it violently.
Bret’s hands were fists and his eyes blurry and his face burning. His shoulders were hunched and he felt tight and he could feel Jemaine near him. And he wished, with all his heart, that he wasn’t here. That he was far, far away.
He wished Jemaine wasn’t here too. He just wanted to be alone. Leave me alone...
All he wanted was to just fall down, because the shuffling in his leg seemed to have expanded and it was now in his knees. His knees felt…bendy. But if he collapsed he knew the rest would catch up. Everything would break down.
Then, abruptly, the gods smiled and the elevator finally let out a squeal and lurched. It rose quickly. The minute the elevator doors dinged open Bret flew out and into the apartment. Jemaine walked behind him slowly, sullenly. Bret grabbed an empty grocery bag and threw a handful of his clothes into it. And his eyes were still blurry. Fuck, why were his eyes still blurry and his cheeks wet and why oh why was he making those noises and breathing like that?
“Bret…”
“I’ll be at Murray’s. Or maybe Dave’s.”
“Bret…”
“Later.” Bret ignored the tremor in his voice and he didn’t once look at Jemaine. He rushed out of the apartment building, taking the stairs because fuck the elevator. Once he was outside he breathed deep and his chest felt like someone had stabbed it as air rushed into his lungs. The blurriness was finally gone but his face felt damp. He trudged down the street, wondering where he was going and not really caring.
So this bit is deplorably angsty - and while FOTC doesn't really lend itself to angst - I went with it, so there. :P
OY! I am so exhausted! Bedtime for me!
Part 3/4
Pairing(s) in the story: Jemaine/Bret (Flight of the Conchords)
Author Name/Pen Name: she_burns1
Beta: lordstarfish
Disclaimer: I do not own Flight of the Conchords, or Hbo, or Bret, or Jemaine…though I will glad take donations of Bret/Jemaine!
Rating of story: R
Word Count: 3,347
Warnings: Um…steaminess and bad words….though probably not the bad words some people want to see - lol.
Brief summary: The course of true love never did run smooth-William Shakespeare
“I can’t believe we took him back as a manager.” Jemaine grumbled as he and Bret re-entered their apartment building.
“Come on, he wasn’t that bad, ‘sides, he was going to jump otherwise.”
“No, he wouldn’t have. You saw how high up we were. No way would he have jumped.”
“Still, it’s nice to have him back.”
“Hnn.”
“And you missed him.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“A little bit?”
“No.”
“A little bit.”
Jemaine’s head rolled about his shoulders and he made a non-committal sound that Bret accepted as a ‘yes’. Bret pushed the button for the elevator and they both stood waiting patiently.
Jemaine eyed Bret, “Why did you put that suit on?”
Bret looked at him, eyes narrowed as he let out a questioning sound. Jemaine pointed at his outfit, “The suit. You changed into it before we went over to Murray’s. Isn’t that the suit you sometimes wear when you’re holding signs?”
“Oh yeah, it is.”
They lapsed into silence again as the elevator dinged and the doors opened. They both stepped inside and the doors closed. Jemaine waited a few more minutes for Bret to elaborate but when he didn’t he asked again, “So? Why do you have the suit on?”
Bret shrugged; lips screwed up to one side, “Dunno. Just figured, I mean, we were going to see Murray and I kind of thought it was our first band meeting in a long time. Made sense to dress more than casual for it.”
“So…you knew we’d take him back as a manager?”
“I had an inkling.”
“How?”
“What?”
“How did you…why did you think we’d take him back. What gave you an inkling?”
“Uh, oh, something Dave said.”
“Dave?”
Bret murmured an affirmative when suddenly the elevator groaned and shook. Both Bret and Jemaine braced themselves as the lights inside flickered for a moment. They both frowned.
“What just happened?”
There was another wrenching groan, then silence.
Jemaine frowned, bending his knees up and down a little, “I... hm. I think we’ve stopped moving.”
“You think?”
“Doesn’t feel like we’re going up anymore…or down. Feels like we’ve just…stopped.”
“What, so the elevator’s broken?”
“Seems that way, lift’s got no…lift.”
“It’s been slow before. Maybe it’s just going extra slow.”
Jemaine shook his head, “No. Nope. Think we’re stopped.”
“We trapped in here?”
“Appear to be.”
“Flip!”
“Nothing to worry about. Imagine it’ll start back up eventually.”
“But-but how long is that going to take?!”
Jemaine shrugged, “Dunno.”
Bret swallowed convulsively and tugged at his tie, loosing it a bit at his throat, “Flip. Flip flip flip-”
Jemaine’s eyes narrowed as he studied his friend. “What’s wrong?”
“We’re trapped in here!”
“So?”
“What if there’s not enough air?”
Jemaine took in a loud breath through his nose. “Hmm, no, seems to be enough.”
“What if we run out of food?”
“We don’t have any food.”
”So we’ve all ready run out?!”
“We didn’t have any to begin with, what’s wrong with you?”
“What about water? Do we have that?”
“No. Bret, calm down, it’ll be fine. I told you, we’ll be out soon enough.”
“Flipflipflip-”
“Are you…afraid?”
“This elevator…’s bit small.”
“It’s fine. Look, Bret, you need to relax. Don’t think about it. We won’t be in here long-”
“How do you know that? What if we’re in here for ages and ages…what if we die in here…”
“We won’t. Trust me.”
“What...what if we have to eat each other to survive?”
“Don’t think that’ll happen. Be realistic, Bret. ‘Sides, I can’t eat you…you’d be all stringy…don’t have much meat on you to begin with. As for me, well, you could eat me but I’m pretty sure I’d make you sick-”
“Oh god…”
“Look, you just need to think about something else. We’ll be moving soon enough.”
“But you don’t know that for sure-”
“Of course I do. Would it help if I promised you the elevator’s going to move soon and that we’re not going to die in here and have to eat each other?”
“…yes.”
“Well, technically I can’t, but to help you, I will.”
“Will what?”
“Promise.”
“Promise what?”
“I promise we’ll get out of here soon.”
“Oh,” Bret let out a big breath of relief, “Thanks, man.”
“No problem.”
”So…what should we do while we wait?”
Jemaine sat down on the floor of the elevator, “I don’t know. Too bad we don’t have a pack of cards or something.”
“Yeah.” Bret sat down next to him.
Jemaine cleared his throat and started talking, “Do you really believe Murray when he went on about how he had a dated all those celebrities? Because I really don’t-”
Bret took off his jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his white dress shirt. He loosed his tie some more and then he noticed Jemaine had stopped talking and was just staring at him.
Bret frowned, “What?”
Jemaine licked his lips, blinking rapidly, “Wh-what are you doing?”
“It’s hot in here. Just making myself more comfortable.”
“Oh,” Jemaine looked away, then back, then away again. He shifted where he sat and seemed to be recollecting himself mentally.
There were a few moments of silence before he started up again. Bret watched Jemaine as talked. Jemaine had probably made the right move in not getting dressed up for their reunion with Murray. He wore a simple short sleeve blue shirt and regular pants - nothing fancy, nothing constrictive. He wished he hadn't worn the suit now, he thought regretfully, tugging at his collar again, before undoing the first button or so.
Bret felt unreasonably warm and he wondered vaguely if it was getting hotter in the elevator. Maybe the reason they had stopped was because there was a fire in the building and it was slowly building up beneath them, turning the metal elevator into something of a big metal pot they would boil in.
He shook his head and knew he needed to do what Jemaine had told him. He needed to relax and not think about it. He needed to remind himself that soon the elevator would move and all would be right with the world. They wouldn’t be here forever. Besides, Jemaine had promised and, for the most part, Jemaine kept his promises.
Actually, he supposed if he really wanted to distract himself he could just think about Jemaine as he had done for the past few days. His friend had practically overwhelmed all other thoughts in his mind recently as he had tried to brainstorm ways to talk to him about his newfound feelings.
He thought about his sign boss, Eddie. Eddie had said that Jemaine thinks too much. Maybe that was Bret’s current problem. He was thinking too much about this. And David Bowie had also told him it didn’t hurt to do something completely outrageous.
They were trapped in the elevator and he did need something to distract him. No time better than the present, right?
Heart racing, Bret took in a deep breath and made up his mind, while Jemaine babbled incessantly, filling the stuffy air between them. Bret tuned back in.
“…I don’t know. We should play that game. Yeah. The one we played on the plane to America, where we say girls we find hot back and forth. I’ll go first. Ok, um, this is harder than I thought. Maybe you should go first -”
“Jemaine-”
“No, you have to say girls’ names. I’m not a girl.”
“Jemaine-”
“Is this helping, Bret? I thought if I chattered on and, with the game, I’d distract you from-”
“No, Jemaine, listen to me.”
Jemaine stopped talking and just looked at him. Bret’s heart was pounding loud in his ears. Just breathe.
“Jemaine, I’ve…there’s something I want to talk to you about…”
Jemaine nodded. Bret didn’t continue. Jemaine motioned at him, “Ok. And…”
“It’s about…remember that time…” Bret took in another shaky breath and ran a hand through his hair, “This is going badly.”
“Well…it hasn’t really gone anywhere. You need to say something more for it to go in one direction or the other. At this point, I’ve been doing most of the work in our conversation and I think it’s going pretty well-”
“IwanttotalktoyouaboutTopGun-”
Jemaine frowned and he leaned closer to Bret, “Sorry. Didn’t get all that-”
“Iwanttotalktoyou-”
“Bret, Bret, you’re going too fast. I can’t keep up with…”
“I want to talk to you about Top Gun!” Bret managed to split it up a bit this time but it still came out exceptionally fast. However, Jemaine understood him this time. His whole body went rigid and he pulled back from Bret, rising to his feet.
“What about it.”
“Well…remember when we watched it?”
“Vaguely.”
“And…and after we watched it?”
Jemaine’s face was a blank, cold slate.
“…when you and I…when we…”
“We swore never to talk about it.”
Bret, feeling better at finally starting this long over due discussion, relaxed considerably as he also rose to stand, “Well, you swore - I didn’t really have a chance to say much of anything before you ran away.”
“I didn’t run away.”
“You ran into the bathroom and hid in there.”
“I was getting ready for bed…in a very not-hiding manner.”
“Yeah, well, you still disappeared too quickly for us to talk about it.”
“That’s because there’s nothing to talk about. It didn’t happen.”
“But it did.”
“No, it didn’t.”
“But it did.”
“It didn’t.”
“Did.”
“Look, what do you want me to do? What would be helped by our talking about it? It was just…something that happened. Can we just move on from it, please?”
“But, I mean, why did it happen? Why did you…I mean, you sort of started it, man.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“You kissed me on the chin. Then on the mouth. You started it.”
“I ended it and that’s all that really matters. It’s over now.”
“But it’s different now.”
“No, it’s not. Not unless we make it different, which you’re doing by forcing me into this conversation. No. I’m not talking about this.”
“Were you pretending I was a girl when you kissed me? Like the spooning except this time I didn’t have a wig on?”
Jemaine folded his arms and refused to look at Bret. Bret was undeterred, “Because I don’t see how you could. What with the beard and all. Unless you were imagining you were making out with a really hairy girl.”
Jemaine didn’t elaborate, so Bret continued, “I mean, if you weren’t imagining anyone else…I…I would be ok with that.”
Jemaine did look at Bret now, stunned, “What?”
“Well, I mean, if - when you were kissing me you were…thinking of me…if-if you wanted to kiss me, I…I wouldn’t mind so much…”
“What are you saying?”
“Um…that I like you?”
“We’re best friends.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“You’ve always liked me.”
“Yeah, but now I like like you.”
“You like like…like me…but…but that would make you…gay.”
“Just a bit. And only for you, really.”
Jemaine looked so astounded that Bret almost felt bad for telling him. He licked his lips and trudged on, “I mean, I tried, you know…to see if I could be into other guys. I kissed Dave and-”
“You what?!”
“-I wasn’t into it too much. And then Dave, I mean, he tipped me off about Murray and he showed me…he showed me a video of you…from the webcam-”
Jemaine looked ill, his face pasty white as his jaw worked.
“I remember you were upset about being alone with the webcam that day. I didn’t know…”
“Bret,” Jemaine rubbed at his temples, “Please stop.”
“I mean, d’you…d’you like like me too?”
“Bret…please…” Jemaine’s begging was so pitiful that Bret almost did, but he couldn’t help it, he was driven to continue.
“I mean, if you do that would be…I mean, we could…”
“Bret, how do you think this will work?” Jemaine asked, voice hard.
“Pardon?”
“You and me, if we-”
“Oh. Like how things are now…except we’d make out more often.”
Jemaine seemed stuck on that for a moment, as if he hadn’t been expecting that answer. But he found his footing and started again, “But what about the band?”
“What? You want me to quit the band so we can date?”
“No, I - stop trying to quit the band.”
“I would quit the band to date you. I did it to date Coco.”
“You’d quit the band if it got you free chips.”
“…does it?”
“No, look, Bret, this wouldn’t work.”
“What wouldn’t?”
“Our…if you and I had…had a relationship. It wouldn’t work.”
“Sure, it would. Nothing would change - except for the kissing.”
“No, it - we’d lose our female fan base. We wouldn’t…be accessible to them.”
“We’ve already lost Mel, so what does that matter?”
“If we get in a relationship you’ll be all…clingy and - and fussy.”
“No, I won’t.”
“Yes, you will.”
“No, I won’t get fussy.”
“You will get fussy.”
“Not fussy, nope.”
“Yes, very fussy,” Jemaine sighed, pushing up his glasses, “You’d get all fussy on me and the band would suffer for it. Our friendship would suffer for it. What if we got in a fight before a gig? What if you dumped me or I cheated on you or-”
“You’d cheat on me?”
“I don’t - I don’t know. Maybe. I mean, you have to think, Bret, what if I met a hot girl or…or you met a hot girl,” Jemaine refused to admit it was more likely Bret would meet a hot girl and leave him. He refused to say it aloud.
“I wouldn’t…Jemaine, I wouldn’t leave you.”
Damn. Apparently Bret could read minds. Bastard.
“Bret…”
“Maybe…I mean, maybe if we,” Bret leaned closer to him, “We could kiss again.”
“NO.”
“Come on, we could just practice…just see…I mean, maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I’m remembering it better than it was. Maybe if we kiss nothing’ll happen or it’ll be bad and I won’t like you anymore.”
Jemaine looked very pained all of the sudden, “No.”
Bret remembered Dave’s suggestion to be aggressive and his eyes narrowed, “You know, I-I don’t have to ask for your permission.”
“What? What are you-?”
Jemaine’s words died as Bret’s hands captured his face and he quickly dived in, his lips meeting Jemaine’s with a soft yet short impact.
In fact it had been so short that Bret leaned back a little and tried to remember it. His own lips felt…good. Tingly. He mumbled under his breath, “That wasn’t so bad.”
The end of his sentence was practically no more than a breath of air as Jemaine let out a frustrated growl. He pushed Bret hard back against one wall of the elevator, the noise of it jarring.
Jemaine’s hands shot out, curling into Bret’s hair as he crushed their lips together. This kiss was hungrier than the last and a bit more similar to their first kiss. There was bit of an uncomfortable fumbling but then it settled out like kicked up dust, becoming more effortless. Bret didn’t have to work as hard to remember this kiss as it was longer, Jemaine’s mouth still on his.
Jemaine’s lips were full, warm and urgent…Bret moved his own mouth slightly, hardly able to keep up, and then somehow there was something wet and he realized his mouth was open and Jemaine’s tongue was ducking inside and there was a sound coming from somewhere deep, resounding like the steady booming beat of a drum.
It was hard to say how much time passed and the only sounds were that of the deep boom, hushed heavy breathing and the audible noise of kissing. Bret could almost hear a song in all of it.
Jemaine was all over Bret, his hands were roaming everywhere. He was tugging at his tie and the buttons on his shirt and Bret felt lightheaded. He didn’t want it to stop.
But Jemaine did. He pulled back and cursed, a flat palm smacking the elevator wall near Bret’s head. He hissed at the pain that coursed through his hand and pulled away, “That was wrong…we can’t…that didn’t happen...again.”
Bret found his voice despite his breathlessness, “But it did. Jemaine…I…I liked it. Please…” He reached for his friend again.
“Bret,” Jemaine’s voice was hopeless, his eyes sad as he drew far away from him. He stood at the other side of the elevator, as far from Bret as possible, shaking his head, “We’re friends.”
“I know.”
“We’re friends…and I want us to stay friends.”
Bret’s eyes were watering again and he felt cold. Blood flooding down to his feet as Jemaine kept talking.
“If we….do this…if we talk about it…we won’t be.”
Bret couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe.
His eyes were round saucers and he shook his head, disbelieving, “What…are you serious?”
Jemaine wouldn’t look at him. He tried to speak but couldn’t. He merely nodded his head.
And suddenly Bret was filled with a heat that swiftly replaced the cold. A hot, angry heat. He looked away from Jemaine, “Fine.”
He was tired of feeling pathetic and helpless, mad at himself for being so hurt and mad at Jemaine for being so... Jemaine.
“Bret….Bret, don’t be angry.”
Bret wouldn’t look at Jemaine. He would not look at him. He wouldn’t look, and his right leg kept shuffling. He kind of felt like dancing and cursing and throwing things. But he just stood there and his face was hot and everything was awful and cruel.
He wished in vain the elevator would move and he wouldn’t be trapped in here anymore. That’s what he was. Trapped. Buried under this weight of silence and he was filling up with so many ugly emotions he felt he would burst open.
He didn’t burst, but his vision was getting terrible. Everything was blurry and when he breathed his chest hurt. Oh god, what was that noise he had made? Please don’t let it have been a sob, please, please, please-
Move elevator!
Flip, just - move!
But no deliverance seemed forthcoming. He shoved against it violently.
Bret’s hands were fists and his eyes blurry and his face burning. His shoulders were hunched and he felt tight and he could feel Jemaine near him. And he wished, with all his heart, that he wasn’t here. That he was far, far away.
He wished Jemaine wasn’t here too. He just wanted to be alone. Leave me alone...
All he wanted was to just fall down, because the shuffling in his leg seemed to have expanded and it was now in his knees. His knees felt…bendy. But if he collapsed he knew the rest would catch up. Everything would break down.
Then, abruptly, the gods smiled and the elevator finally let out a squeal and lurched. It rose quickly. The minute the elevator doors dinged open Bret flew out and into the apartment. Jemaine walked behind him slowly, sullenly. Bret grabbed an empty grocery bag and threw a handful of his clothes into it. And his eyes were still blurry. Fuck, why were his eyes still blurry and his cheeks wet and why oh why was he making those noises and breathing like that?
“Bret…”
“I’ll be at Murray’s. Or maybe Dave’s.”
“Bret…”
“Later.” Bret ignored the tremor in his voice and he didn’t once look at Jemaine. He rushed out of the apartment building, taking the stairs because fuck the elevator. Once he was outside he breathed deep and his chest felt like someone had stabbed it as air rushed into his lungs. The blurriness was finally gone but his face felt damp. He trudged down the street, wondering where he was going and not really caring.
So this bit is deplorably angsty - and while FOTC doesn't really lend itself to angst - I went with it, so there. :P
OY! I am so exhausted! Bedtime for me!