Fic: Feels Like Home, Part 4/5
Feels Like Home
Part 4/5
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: PG-13
Word Count: 1,720
Warnings: Angst, Illness
Brief summary: A man travels the world over in search of what he needs and returns home to find it. - George Moore
When Jemaine woke the next day, he felt as if his head weighed a million pounds and his brains had been run through a meat grinder. His whole body ached. Even his eyeballs. It took him a while to build up enough stamina to keep his eyelids apart and when he finally managed to keep his eyes open he noticed, with some puzzlement, that Bret was sleeping right beside him.
Jemaine’s first thought was along the lines of ‘oh god, what did we do last night?!’ but not nearly as clean and coherent. Jemaine looked down and saw he was fully clothed and so was Bret. In fact, they had apparently slept on top of the made bed, the covers in only the slightest of disarray.
Relieved, Jemaine looked back at Bret again and the corners of his lips worked a little. Bret looked so peaceful, so perfect in sleep and then suddenly his eyelids trembled a bit and eased open.
He yawned softly and spoke in a sleepy, hushed whisper, “Mornin’.”
Jemaine answered with a welcoming mumble.
“How you feeling?”
Jemaine mumbled again, more sounds than words, and closed his eyes again.
“Hmm?”
He finally managed some speech, “Gonna die.”
“Nah. Don’t think so.”
“How’d you know?”
“If you were going to die, I think you’d look a lot worse…not that you look all that great.”
“Thanks.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t sound it.”
“Well, you did kind of do it to yourself.”
Jemaine gave out the most aggravated of sounds that now Bret did feel a bit guilty. But only a bit, as the rest of him felt warm and inexplicably happy. This was a nice way to wake up, the two of them sharing a bed. Bret sighed, “Want me to get you anything?”
Jemaine looked at Bret’s face again, searching it and Bret felt his cheeks go hot. He wanted to look away but he managed to meet his friend’s stare. Jemaine finally whispered, “You stayed with me?”
“All night. Figured, if I was here, you couldn’t roll over and get sick in your sleep and choke. Jimi Hendrix died like that. He was on drugs though.”
Jemaine didn’t know why, maybe it was because his head hurt so much, but that sounded like one of the most romantic things he had ever heard. Bret had stayed with him all night…watching over him. He reached a hand out, brushing Bret’s cheek gently.
Bret leaned into the touch, eager for it. Last night still hung over like a dark cloud and he was desperate for the answer of the will you or won’t you. Jemaine opened his mouth, then suddenly, blanched and lurched away. “Oh god.”
He sat up swiftly and covered his mouth, “Gonna be…ohgodohgodohgod-”
Jemaine bolted into the bathroom and slammed the door behind him. Bret could hear the unmistakable sounds of retching and grimaced. Ugh. Gross. Kind of ruined the moment. He sat up and shrugged, not much to be done about it though. Probably better if Jemaine cleaned himself out.
Bret decided to get a spot of breakfast and left the room to give Jemaine some privacy. That and the sound of him getting sick was making Bret feel sick. Jemaine barely heard him exit, and it took him quite a bit to recover. Once his stomach seemed fit enough to stop heaving, he crawled limply over to the sink and stuck his head in it.
Jemaine took heaping handfuls of water and rinsed his mouth out, then managed to move himself from his knees to a standing position. He grabbed his toothbrush and some toothpaste and quickly began cleaning his mouth out, still grimacing about the whole thing.
He hated getting sick it was so…sickening.
As he brushed vigorously, his mind couldn’t help but wander to last night. A lot of it was a blur, most of it buried under the haze of a hangover. But a few things stuck out sharply, the main one being Bret beneath him and then over him and…
Jemaine sighed, his hand dropping from the handle of the brush, fists resting on the sink, toothbrush clenched between his lips as his head drooped, his eyes closed. He rubbed at the bridge of his nose, pushing up his glasses.
Things weren’t getting any better. This was the third time now. The third time he had pretty much molested Bret and…they couldn’t keep doing this. He couldn’t keep doing this. It was amazing enough they had managed to get back on track the last time but this time…no, it just wasn’t getting any better.
Jemaine went back to brushing his teeth and realized he felt cold because he had just made a decision. A very important one.
He was going to tell Bret.
He was going to tell Bret the truth, tell him everything…tell him…
And it wasn’t that Jemaine had suddenly grown courageous about the whole thing. It wasn’t even because he thought it was a good idea. He decided that he was going to do it because it had to be done. They would just keep up this cycle of action then denial and hurt feelings. He was just putting off the inevitable and making it more painful for himself. And for Bret, which he could barely stand the thought of.
Even if, somehow, they miraculously went on yet again as if nothing had happened, it would only be a matter of time before Jemaine would do it again. He would kiss Bret again; he would touch him again because he couldn’t seem to stop himself. Ever since that first time…one taste of Bret, that was all it took to get him horribly addicted.
Bret was like…a drug.
His head hurt too much to think of a good drug name for him, but Bret was definitely some addictive substance drug. One of those kind that there was no real cure for. Once you were hooked, you were hooked, and strung out and you could try to go clean but it was so hard and so tempting and you’d rather just die without it…
The most likely scenario was that, if they even did go back to normal, eventually there would be a fourth time and then a fifth and then eventually Bret would just get fed up with Jemaine, with the whole sordid thing, and leave.
Funny, Jemaine had been trying to stay out of a relationship with Bret because he was afraid of losing him and now, the way it was going, he was going to lose him anyway. Two sides of him pulled against each other, one pushing him towards an impossible relationship with Bret, the other shoving him away into a cold corner of platonic friendship. Neither side was right to him, but both sides wanted to stay next to Bret, in anyway possible.
But shouldn’t he just make Bret go away, since obviously Jemaine was only going to hurt him with his affection then denial?
He made a frustrated noise and gripped his head, sitting down hard on the floor. His brain wasn’t up for this much activity; he had to calm down and think things through.
At least he was home. At least he could stay here. He could make it here. Alone. He couldn’t do that in America. Honestly, he wasn’t really sure he could do it here but here seemed more likely…
He also knew he couldn’t take another round of kissing and post-kissing awkwardness. No, no, better to just take the plunge and say what he needed to. He tried to think of what Bret’s reaction would be. Considering the elevator, he might want to attempt to have a relationship, but there was no way that was happening.
Nothing Bret had said thus far had convinced Jemaine that getting involved with him - in that way - was a good idea. Jemaine didn’t want to date Bret for a while and then, one random day, have some pretty girl (like the one at the bar) turn Bret’s head and then find himself being dumped by Bret. Jemaine had been dumped by girls before (more than he would have liked) and he had managed to get through it without crying (sort of) but if Bret dumped him…he didn’t think his heart could take it.
No, it would be better if he told Bret now how he felt, fully explained why they couldn’t be, and then they part ways. There was nothing, nothing that Bret had said, that he could say, that would convince Jemaine otherwise.
Bret stayed with me. Last night. In my bed. All night. He watched over me.
The thought came unbidden and Jemaine frowned. Ok. So…there was that. It wasn’t something Bret had said but…the action…it had been…something. Still, that one thing wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough.
The only reason the thought had even probably come to Jemaine at all was because he was so apprehensive. After all, it wasn’t easy to decide to end a friendship as well as break-up a band. Especially because of a reason that was so ridiculous and one Jemaine really felt he should easily overcome and couldn’t.
And really, in a way, it was all Bret’s fault. Bret and his making-you-fall-in-love-with-him-ness. Damn Bret.
That was the closest Jemaine had ever come to bad thoughts about Bret and it made him feel pretty lousy. Added with how the rest of him felt physically, he was overall in bad shape. Jemaine finished brushing his teeth, rinsing out his mouth and looking in the mirror.
He looked awful. His hair was sticking up all over and his eyes were kind of red. He wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, and then sighed deeply. Ok. He had made up his mind. Time to accept it and move forward.
He turned and exited the bathroom to find Bret waiting for him.
OOoooo - only one more part (and the epilogue) to go! *bites nails in suspense*
Part 4/5
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: PG-13
Word Count: 1,720
Warnings: Angst, Illness
Brief summary: A man travels the world over in search of what he needs and returns home to find it. - George Moore
When Jemaine woke the next day, he felt as if his head weighed a million pounds and his brains had been run through a meat grinder. His whole body ached. Even his eyeballs. It took him a while to build up enough stamina to keep his eyelids apart and when he finally managed to keep his eyes open he noticed, with some puzzlement, that Bret was sleeping right beside him.
Jemaine’s first thought was along the lines of ‘oh god, what did we do last night?!’ but not nearly as clean and coherent. Jemaine looked down and saw he was fully clothed and so was Bret. In fact, they had apparently slept on top of the made bed, the covers in only the slightest of disarray.
Relieved, Jemaine looked back at Bret again and the corners of his lips worked a little. Bret looked so peaceful, so perfect in sleep and then suddenly his eyelids trembled a bit and eased open.
He yawned softly and spoke in a sleepy, hushed whisper, “Mornin’.”
Jemaine answered with a welcoming mumble.
“How you feeling?”
Jemaine mumbled again, more sounds than words, and closed his eyes again.
“Hmm?”
He finally managed some speech, “Gonna die.”
“Nah. Don’t think so.”
“How’d you know?”
“If you were going to die, I think you’d look a lot worse…not that you look all that great.”
“Thanks.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t sound it.”
“Well, you did kind of do it to yourself.”
Jemaine gave out the most aggravated of sounds that now Bret did feel a bit guilty. But only a bit, as the rest of him felt warm and inexplicably happy. This was a nice way to wake up, the two of them sharing a bed. Bret sighed, “Want me to get you anything?”
Jemaine looked at Bret’s face again, searching it and Bret felt his cheeks go hot. He wanted to look away but he managed to meet his friend’s stare. Jemaine finally whispered, “You stayed with me?”
“All night. Figured, if I was here, you couldn’t roll over and get sick in your sleep and choke. Jimi Hendrix died like that. He was on drugs though.”
Jemaine didn’t know why, maybe it was because his head hurt so much, but that sounded like one of the most romantic things he had ever heard. Bret had stayed with him all night…watching over him. He reached a hand out, brushing Bret’s cheek gently.
Bret leaned into the touch, eager for it. Last night still hung over like a dark cloud and he was desperate for the answer of the will you or won’t you. Jemaine opened his mouth, then suddenly, blanched and lurched away. “Oh god.”
He sat up swiftly and covered his mouth, “Gonna be…ohgodohgodohgod-”
Jemaine bolted into the bathroom and slammed the door behind him. Bret could hear the unmistakable sounds of retching and grimaced. Ugh. Gross. Kind of ruined the moment. He sat up and shrugged, not much to be done about it though. Probably better if Jemaine cleaned himself out.
Bret decided to get a spot of breakfast and left the room to give Jemaine some privacy. That and the sound of him getting sick was making Bret feel sick. Jemaine barely heard him exit, and it took him quite a bit to recover. Once his stomach seemed fit enough to stop heaving, he crawled limply over to the sink and stuck his head in it.
Jemaine took heaping handfuls of water and rinsed his mouth out, then managed to move himself from his knees to a standing position. He grabbed his toothbrush and some toothpaste and quickly began cleaning his mouth out, still grimacing about the whole thing.
He hated getting sick it was so…sickening.
As he brushed vigorously, his mind couldn’t help but wander to last night. A lot of it was a blur, most of it buried under the haze of a hangover. But a few things stuck out sharply, the main one being Bret beneath him and then over him and…
Jemaine sighed, his hand dropping from the handle of the brush, fists resting on the sink, toothbrush clenched between his lips as his head drooped, his eyes closed. He rubbed at the bridge of his nose, pushing up his glasses.
Things weren’t getting any better. This was the third time now. The third time he had pretty much molested Bret and…they couldn’t keep doing this. He couldn’t keep doing this. It was amazing enough they had managed to get back on track the last time but this time…no, it just wasn’t getting any better.
Jemaine went back to brushing his teeth and realized he felt cold because he had just made a decision. A very important one.
He was going to tell Bret.
He was going to tell Bret the truth, tell him everything…tell him…
And it wasn’t that Jemaine had suddenly grown courageous about the whole thing. It wasn’t even because he thought it was a good idea. He decided that he was going to do it because it had to be done. They would just keep up this cycle of action then denial and hurt feelings. He was just putting off the inevitable and making it more painful for himself. And for Bret, which he could barely stand the thought of.
Even if, somehow, they miraculously went on yet again as if nothing had happened, it would only be a matter of time before Jemaine would do it again. He would kiss Bret again; he would touch him again because he couldn’t seem to stop himself. Ever since that first time…one taste of Bret, that was all it took to get him horribly addicted.
Bret was like…a drug.
His head hurt too much to think of a good drug name for him, but Bret was definitely some addictive substance drug. One of those kind that there was no real cure for. Once you were hooked, you were hooked, and strung out and you could try to go clean but it was so hard and so tempting and you’d rather just die without it…
The most likely scenario was that, if they even did go back to normal, eventually there would be a fourth time and then a fifth and then eventually Bret would just get fed up with Jemaine, with the whole sordid thing, and leave.
Funny, Jemaine had been trying to stay out of a relationship with Bret because he was afraid of losing him and now, the way it was going, he was going to lose him anyway. Two sides of him pulled against each other, one pushing him towards an impossible relationship with Bret, the other shoving him away into a cold corner of platonic friendship. Neither side was right to him, but both sides wanted to stay next to Bret, in anyway possible.
But shouldn’t he just make Bret go away, since obviously Jemaine was only going to hurt him with his affection then denial?
He made a frustrated noise and gripped his head, sitting down hard on the floor. His brain wasn’t up for this much activity; he had to calm down and think things through.
At least he was home. At least he could stay here. He could make it here. Alone. He couldn’t do that in America. Honestly, he wasn’t really sure he could do it here but here seemed more likely…
He also knew he couldn’t take another round of kissing and post-kissing awkwardness. No, no, better to just take the plunge and say what he needed to. He tried to think of what Bret’s reaction would be. Considering the elevator, he might want to attempt to have a relationship, but there was no way that was happening.
Nothing Bret had said thus far had convinced Jemaine that getting involved with him - in that way - was a good idea. Jemaine didn’t want to date Bret for a while and then, one random day, have some pretty girl (like the one at the bar) turn Bret’s head and then find himself being dumped by Bret. Jemaine had been dumped by girls before (more than he would have liked) and he had managed to get through it without crying (sort of) but if Bret dumped him…he didn’t think his heart could take it.
No, it would be better if he told Bret now how he felt, fully explained why they couldn’t be, and then they part ways. There was nothing, nothing that Bret had said, that he could say, that would convince Jemaine otherwise.
Bret stayed with me. Last night. In my bed. All night. He watched over me.
The thought came unbidden and Jemaine frowned. Ok. So…there was that. It wasn’t something Bret had said but…the action…it had been…something. Still, that one thing wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough.
The only reason the thought had even probably come to Jemaine at all was because he was so apprehensive. After all, it wasn’t easy to decide to end a friendship as well as break-up a band. Especially because of a reason that was so ridiculous and one Jemaine really felt he should easily overcome and couldn’t.
And really, in a way, it was all Bret’s fault. Bret and his making-you-fall-in-love-with-him-ness. Damn Bret.
That was the closest Jemaine had ever come to bad thoughts about Bret and it made him feel pretty lousy. Added with how the rest of him felt physically, he was overall in bad shape. Jemaine finished brushing his teeth, rinsing out his mouth and looking in the mirror.
He looked awful. His hair was sticking up all over and his eyes were kind of red. He wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, and then sighed deeply. Ok. He had made up his mind. Time to accept it and move forward.
He turned and exited the bathroom to find Bret waiting for him.
OOoooo - only one more part (and the epilogue) to go! *bites nails in suspense*