Come on Sweet Catastrophe.

Decisions (Part II)

Wed, 17 Jun 2009 15:42:52 GMT

Ian liked to play acoustic shows. He loved to play with the band, and have fun onstage, but he liked to just sit outside with his acoustic and let Alex sing next to him. They’d done it a bit in the beginning, sometimes with Marshall playing keyboard up there with them. That was why, when Singer asked him about doing the tour with Sisky and William he was totally psyched to get out on the road. And then Sisky showed up injured and it was pretty much more of an excuse for him to screw around on his guitar.

As the weeks passed it evolved from playing their own songs to playing each other songs, covers, and even a couple of ridiculous, spur of the moment ideas. It was good to see the fans at such small venue. On Rockband they’d been so big. It had been amazing but Ian missed being close to the fans and getting to hang out after a show. He’d never gotten so many hugs before.

They were sitting in the hotel room one night, him, Singer and Adam on one of the beds playing cards while William played with his phone from the other.

Singer, as promised, was kicking their asses again. It was something about those Vegas boys, though Ian was coming in a close second. The game had pretty much drifted into conversations, and a little bit of smoking for Adam and Ian.

“I hate bills,” Singer said, from where he was going through e-mails on his phone.

Adam looked up. He’d been doodling on the back of a notebook with Ian looking over his shoulder. He hadn’t really been paying that much attention and was a little high so his voice came out confused.

“Like ones you have to pay or people named William?”

“Huh?” William asked loudly, looking up from his own work.

Ian snorted as he started laughing. He overbalanced and fell off the end of the bed. Landing on his back on the floor only made him laugh harder.

Probably more at his actions than the exchange of words both Adam and William started laughing.

“You guys are all freaks,” Singer added on to their little exchange, which for one reason or another, only made them all start laughing harder.

By the time he’d finally stopped laughing he felt so tired that he couldn’t bring himself to push himself up off the floor.

“You okay down there, Crawford?” Adam was leaning over the edge of the bed.

Ian shook his head, “I think you all killed me.”

Before he could get a response William’s arms were hooking under his armpits and helping haul him to his feet.

“Just so you know, Bills are awesome,” he told them before depositing Ian on the bed with a shove.

Singer rolled his eyes at all of them.

“Dude, seriously, how have you managed to pay for all of this stuff for two years?” he asked Ian.

Ian scooted up the bed to look at the screen of Singer’s phone. His phone bill, rent and utilities bills were all piling up in his e-mail inbox.

“Well for one I’m actually organized.” Ian replied, “My parents had me paying my own bills when I was sixteen.”

Singer loved having his own place, and they all liked hanging out there on the rare occasion that they were home from tour, but he still hadn’t gotten on top of his finances yet. Ian’s mom had made sure he knew what he was doing before he left home.

“See if you can tie your utilities in with your rent,” Ian suggested, “It’ll be a bigger bill but then you won’t be getting as many. You can probably work it out with your renter when we’re going to be gone too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Ian nodded, “I’ll help you set it up in the morning.”

“Sure.” He turned to Adam, “People named William, really?”

Adam let a dopey grin cross his face as he shrugged. “I’m tired.”

“Tired? How exhausting can it be to sit on a stool and make fun of Bill for an hour and a half?”

“Dude, don’t forget holding a guitar and looking like I could play it. Ian will tell you, it’s harder than it looks.”

Ian started laughing again. After a minute Singer shook his head and chuckled, chucking his phone across the bed in Adam’s direction.

“Thank God this tour’s almost over; I think I’m losing my mind.”

And this, this was the story that Ian always told when people asked him about Alex DeLeon.

At the end of the tour they split up, most of them catching a flight back to Vegas, four of them making the trek with the van. This time around it was Ian, Johnson, Cash and Sonny. They could make it home in less than three days if they drove through the night.

It was the second night and Ian was riding shotgun while Johnson drove.

“I’m excited about getting in the studio,” Johnson said. “It’ll be nice to get off the road for a while and do some writing.”

“Yeah,” Ian agreed, propping his feet up on the dashboard. “Get some different sounding stuff on the album.”

“Speaking of different,” Johnson added, “Singer wants to put that little bit he wrote with Eloquent on the EP.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, what d’you think?”

Ian shrugged, “I don’t know, man, that’s not really my sound. As long as we’re balancing it out with one of those Queen songs I think I’ll be good.”

“It’s fun to play, at least.”

Ian shrugged. It wasn’t that difficult a guitar part. He scratched along the stubble on his jaw as he watched the road in front of them.

“How’d you ever end up in a band like this playing the music you did before?” he finally asked.

Johnson shrugged, “I don’t know. They were my friends. They needed a drummer and they spent more time actually playing than fighting over stupid stuff. I guess they were going places and I just wanted to play drums.”

“And now?”

“Now if I think something Singer writes sucks I tell him, and when Cash does something stupid I slap him upside the head.”

Ian grinned; he’d seen both happen on many occasions.

“Sometimes I wonder about being in the band,” Ian said quietly, “You know, coming into something that already existed, something that was outside of what I was used to playing.”

Johnson looked at him a little bit hesitantly, “Do you regret it?”

“What? Joining the band?”

Johnson nodded.

“Hell no, this has been the best experience of my life.”

“Good,” Johnson agreed.

“I just wonder about the direction we’re going in sometimes, if I’m still going to like the music we’re making five years down the line. You guys are my best friends but I’ve got different stuff that I want to do.”

“Bring it up,” Johnson shrugged, “I’ve got you back if you want to try something new. You just might have to give the rest of us time to catch up to your level.”

Ian raised an eyebrow as Johnson turned his head slightly to give him a look.

“What? You’re a freak.”

“Your mom’s a freak,” came Cash’s voice from the bench seat right behind them, “…in bed.”

Ian bit his lip to keep from chuckling. He watched closely as Johnson quickly checked the rearview and side mirrors of the van before slamming his foot down on the brake, the momentum obviously causing Cash to roll right off of his seat.

He cursed loudly and Ian felt him hit the back of the passenger seat before hearing the thud of him hitting the floor.

“Dude, what the fuck?” Sonny’s voice floated up groggily from the back.

“Fuck you, Jizzle,” Cash muttered, pushing himself up off of the floor and into view.

“That’s what you get for insulting my mom, Colligan,” he said simply, “See, absolutely no problem smacking him for saying something stupid.”

Ian just shook his head as Cash crawled back up onto the bench cursing them both, and Johnson turned back to the road, speeding up again.

And this, this was the story that Ian always told when people asked him about Alex Johnson.

It was the hardest decision that Ian ever made.

When he finished explaining why, explaining the reasoning behind what he wanted, and why he couldn’t do that here, how this is so hard for him and he’d been second-guessing himself for weeks, he settled back into a chair. It took a lot of energy out of him.

When he could finally bring himself to raise his head and peek out from under his hair at them he was not sure what he was expecting to see.

Singer was looking at him, a bit hurt, confused and something Ian couldn’t quite place. Marshall looked at him like this was out of left field but he somehow wasn’t surprised. Cash and Johnson were totally not surprised, but it didn’t make them less upset.

“I feel like we should apologize or something,” Singer said quietly.

“No, no, it’s completely me. I just… I need to do this.” Ian stumbled a little bit over his words.

“We’re not going to hold you back,” Marshall replied, “It’s your decision.”

“We’ll miss you,” Cash said. His voice wasn’t at its usual even level.

Ian took a deep breath. A big part of him really didn’t want to leave. This was safe, they had their own headlining tour; this was supposed to be the best time of his life. And if he thought about it, it really was, but he knew he wasn’t going to be with them after this and he’d convinced himself it was best to make a clean break.

“I’ll miss you guys too.”

Johnson was the first one to actually get out of his seat and come over to where Ian was sitting, grabbing his arm and pulling him up and into a hug. They’d all met, just for a band meeting, just to hang out and talk about what they’d wanted to do, and Ian had sprung this.

He hugged Johnson back tightly. Now that he’d said it, it was real, and he couldn’t take it back. It was making his pulse race with worry already. He tightened his grip even more. When Johnson let go of him Marshall was right there to take his place, and Singer, and then finally Cash.

“I should go,” Ian said finally.

“You should stay,” Cash told Ian. “We’ll forget about the band stuff for today.”

Ian shook his head. “I need some space, I think. I need to… figure out what to do next.”

Johnson nodded, “Call if you need anything, man. We’re your friends before anything.”

“Yeah,” Ian pounded fists with Johnson and Cash, nodding to them and picking up his guitar on the way out, leaving the room quiet behind him.

Ian might like to say that he’s grown up a lot over the past few years. He wants to say that he got through all of this without getting himself upset. He would, but he’s grown up a lot and he’s man enough to admit that there were a few tears making their way down his cheeks before he’d even pulled out of the driveway.

When he got home he made two phone calls. The first was to his parents. They were surprised at the news but he couldn’t help but think that on some level they understood. Maybe they were expecting it. The second was to Shane. He wasn’t in the best of shape by then, and he knew Shane was on the road. Unlike the others, Shane’s response was surprise.

“Dude, I’ll be home at the end of the week. Come out to LA. Get your mind off of things.”

Ian could hear Brendon in the background, asking Shane what was going on, but Shane just pushed him away.

“Yeah,” Ian said slowly, “I think that might be just what I need.”

“Good, because I’m going to kidnap you if you aren’t here by Saturday.”

“Okay,” Ian replied, “I’ll talk to you soon.”

“You’d better.”

When Ian hung up he dropped down onto his bed and just lay there, staring up at the ceiling until he fell asleep.

There were a number of calls from people over the next few days. Some asked the question or showed sympathy. It wasn’t what Ian wanted. He just wanted to be able to move on and start again.

He picked up the phone when Singer called. Surprisingly it wasn’t his voice that came across the phone.

“Crawford, I’m in town. Get off your lazy ass and come hang out with me and Alex.” William Beckett’s voice spoke with something close to authority.

Singer could be heard in the background laughing. It was good to hear, and Ian’s leaving in the morning, so he climbed into his car and drove out to meet the two of them at the restaurant. It wa a good night, and he thinks that maybe things aren’t going to change that much after all. They didn’t talk about the band, not directly anyway, they just talked about crazy tour incidents and what’s going on currently.

The next day Ian made the drive out to Shane and Brendon’s place in LA. Brendon hugged him when he came in the door, not mentioning it specifically, but going on about how happy he is to have a houseguest. He took the duffel that Ian was trying to balance on his shoulder and lead him up to the guest room. There was a surfboard leaning against the wall and one of Brendon’s acoustics sitting on the bed. What really made Ian’s breath catch however, was that Shane was sitting on the floor, a squirming ball of fur in his lap. He dropped down next to Shane to get a closer look, only to have the puppy deposited in his lap.

It whined and began licking at his fingers. He scratched at the puppy’s head and neck slowly.

“I figured you’d need something to get your mind off of things,” Shane said, “Something to keep you busy. A friend.”

Ian grinned as the puppy tipped its head back and licked at his chin.

“Thanks,” he said, “for everything.” Shane was the reason he got into this band in the first place, and even now that he’s decided he needs to strike out on his own Shane is still there for him, and knows exactly what he needs, even if that’s just time and a coupled of days of surfing.

Decisions (Part 1)

Wed, 17 Jun 2009 15:33:23 GMT

Title: Decisions
Author:

exmptfromsanity

Word Count: 4,589
Rating: PG-13 for some language
Pairing: Ian centric. Not really pairing him off, unless you want to squint at some certain pairing.
Summary: Ian has made some really tough decisions in his life. They've lead to some of the worst and some of the best experiences of his twenty years. Ultimately, he has to live with them, good or bad.
Disclaimer: Ian and the other boys do not belong to me.
Author’s Note: This fulfills both of my challenge prompts. I had stories planned for both of them but it turned into this after seeing those blog posts and tweets by the boys. Honestly, I won't pretend to know how Ian feels about what's going on, or why he made the decisions that he did. This is just fiction.
Also, I swear word limits keep getting shorter, so this is in two parts.

It was the easiest decision that Ian ever made.

The phone rang a little after three as he was getting in from his day job, Shane’s name popping up on the screen.

“What d’you want?” He asked, picking up. Talks with his older cousin were few and far between.

“Hey, so, how’s your guitar playing going?” Shane replied.

Ian grinned, “It’s good. Why, you going to come up for a visit?”

“So there’s this band Brendon and Spencer have been helping out,” Shane said, and for a moment Ian thought he was changing subject, “Anyway, they just got signed by Pete Wentz’s record label and they’re about to graduate from high school. But, their guitarist decided this wasn’t what he wanted to do, so…”

“Really?” Ian asked, sitting down.

“They’re pretty kickass dudes,” Shane said, “I think you need to get down here.”

Ian had some good gigs in Seattle, but a band that was just starting out, guys his age. There would be touring and writing.

“I’ll catch the next flight.”

Like he’d said, it was the easiest decision that he’d ever made.

He was in Vegas the next day, driving with Brendon and Shane to Cash’s garage where he met the four guys who would change his life. They played. He played. Things just clicked.

He worried, just a little bit, about how he was going to fit into this group, these people who had all grown up in the same area, had all these shared experiences that he couldn’t imagine, but they wanted him as much as he wanted them, wanted this.

When it came down to a formal invite he took it immediately.

Ian had only been in the band for two months. In that time he’d found a small apartment in Vegas and gotten himself a passing familiarity with the city and with his band mates. There had been a lot of writing and a lot of listening to music. They liked a lot more recent stuff but knew a fair amount of Ian’s favorites. He loved the moments where Singer looked at him in awe when he played. Honestly, he tried to be a little less noticeable when he was excited right back.

He was passed out after a long day of running around with Marshall and Johnson to get ready for a showcase with Pete and Patrick when his phone rang shrilly, making him jump and all but shoot up out of bed.

“Fuck,” he muttered, turning over to reach for his glasses and his phone. It was four in the morning. Who called people at this hour?

It was a text and it read simply – I did something stupid with eggs. Call me when you get up. Cops were also involved.

He stared blankly at the phone for a moment, letting his sleep-addled brain catch up with what he was reading.

What?

He scrolled up. The text was from Cash. Oh. Okay, maybe that made a little bit more sense. Which really, that was kind of sad.

He rubbed a hand over his eyes and up through his hair, trying to wake himself up before he dialed.

He didn’t even give Cash the chance to say anything when he picked up the phone, just spoke.

“Do you need bail money or someone to help you hide a body?”

Cash, the fucker, had the audacity to laugh. “Umm… I could use a ride.”

Ian groaned loudly. Between the five of them there were three cars. “What happened to yours?”

“We took Johnson’s and he maybe left me to be chased by the cops.”

Another groan, “What the hell did you do?”

“Egged a cop car.”

“How dense are you, really Cash?” Ian asked, hunting around the floor for a pair of jeans.

“We thought it was empty.”

“Where are you?”

“The high school. The one Alex and I went to.”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes,” Ian mumbled, “Meet me out front.” He hung up without waiting for a response.

It took Ian twenty minutes to find Cash’s school. And of course Cash wasn’t sitting out front where he was supposed to be. Ian drove around the school twice, dialing Cash’s number on his phone, each time getting only Cash’s voicemail.

“You’re fucking kidding me, Colligan.” He muttered under his breath as he left the school property. Yeah, he wasn’t going to get pulled over by the cops for creeping around a high school at four-thirty in the morning.

As he began heading downtown he dialed Johnson’s number and he picked up sleepily.

“The fuck, Crawford?”

“Have you talked to Cash?”

“Not since practice yesterday. Man, do you know what time it is?”

“Wait, you and him didn’t egg a cop car tonight.”

There was dead silence on the other end of the phone and for a minute and Ian almost thought he had been disconnected.

Then, there it was, a chuckle.

“Why are you laughing?”

“Umm… so, yeah, Cash is totally vetting you.”

It was Ian’s turn to be silent. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Don’t kill him, we need a bassist,” Johnson managed to get in before Ian snapped his phone shut.

It was actually a closer drive to Cash’s house than it was back to his own apartment so Ian drove there, parking in the street and walking around to Cash’s window. There was at least one advantage to knowing that Cash’s room was on the first floor. He knocked loudly on the window, and when there wasn’t a response right away he kept knocking.

Finally the light turned on and Cash appeared, pausing and staring as he reached the window.

Ian’s arms were crossed over his chest and he was glaring at Cash from under his hair, which was a mess as he’d just rolled out of bed to save Cash’s ass (and he was still now sure that it wouldn’t be for the last time).

Cash looked a bit hesitant to open the window but Ian’s look clearly threatened murder.

“Hey man,” he finally greeted him, as though nothing unusual was going on.

Ian just shook he head and grabbed onto the sill, pulling himself up and in through the window and using Cash’s desk chair to climb to the floor. He didn’t say a word, just walked over and collapsed down onto Cash’s bed.

“Umm… Ian.”

“Cash,” Ian said evenly, “If you wake me up before noon tomorrow cops are going to be involved.”

He didn’t even open his eyes but he could picture the look on Cash’s face.

The light clicked off and after a minute Ian felt the bed dip and Cash poke him in the side. “Dude, at least move over.”

Ian grunted a little bit but scooted over so there was enough room for both of them.

And this, this was the story Ian always told when people asked him about Cash Colligan.

The van accident was probably one of the most frightening experiences of his life. They were driving straight and then boom. He’d overcorrected, known it the moment that it happened and let out a shout. He didn’t remember much else, except maybe how tense he was, the sound that came out of Cash’s mouth from where he was riding shotgun, and the suddenly awake screams of band mates and friends as they started rolling.

When they stopped his glasses were still securely on his face, he knew that. There was blood from somewhere.

It took a few tries to get his voice working, “Guys?”

There were a few muttered curses, questions and moans from the back, but then there were people outside the van, calling in to them. He would almost swear it had been just seconds since they stopped, though it must have been longer.

He glanced next to him to find Cash clutching at his knee and letting out a string of curses. There was blood on his face and the sleeve of his sweatshirt. The window behind him was a spiderweb of cracks but Ian could definitely see people beyond that.

“C’mon,” he managed, “let’s get out of the van.”

Cash nodded and pushed at the door. It took the help of someone outside to pull it open, at the same time someone was pulling on the back doors.

The next several minutes passed quickly. There were people helping them, everyone was accounted for, though in various states of injury, but that was about all that Ian could process. The next thing he remembered there were two ambulances at the scene and he was being shuffled into the back of one of them with Marshall and Johnson. Marshall was holding a bandage to his jaw. Ian hadn’t seen the injury himself but there was a lot of blood and Marshall wasn’t talking, just breathing fast and shallow and moaning in pain.

One of the paramedics began trying to get a look at his injury as they pulled away from the scene. Marshall’s reached out with his free hand, trying to find someone to hold onto. Ian didn’t hesitate to grab his hand and let him hold on tightly. They were speeding down the highway again, this time in the back of an ambulance and Ian wasn’t sure what cames over him but one paramedic was paying attention to Marshall’s injury, and the other looking closely at Johnson’s scrapes. He was just in the middle of it all, and while he hadn’t been to church in years he leaned forward in his seat and prayed the entire way to the hospital.

It was after six and they were still waiting for people to be stitched up and put back together. Ian’s minor injuries had been dealt with quickly enough, so he was curled into the chair next to the hospital bed they had Marshall in, staring at the dark stitches standing out against his pale face.

“Stop it,” Marshall said.

“What?” Ian asked tiredly.

“Blaming yourself. I can see you doing it already and I swear I’ll get off this cot and kick your ass.” He winced at all the talking.

Ian’s face softened in concern, “Man, I’m so sorry.”

“I’m fine. Drew, Alex, Johnson, Cash… they’re all going to be fine. Okay?”

Ian nodded.

Marshall glanced around for the nurse before getting up and slipping out of bed. He wrapped both of his arms around Ian’s shoulders in a tight hug.

“Dude, this tour’s been amazing. It’s worth it. I wouldn’t trade us doing this to make sure this didn’t happen.”

Even though he was pretty sure that Marshall was a little bit high on the painkillers they’d given him, and might not be saying such nice things once they wore off, he appreciated what he was saying. He hugged Marshall back tightly.

The decision was made the next day, to move on with an acoustic set while they got things back together. That was essentially Singer and Ian, the rest of them riding along.

The outpouring of generosity from fans absolutely amazed him and before he knew it they were back on their feet, the full band playing and the incident all but forgotten.

It was summer, another tour altogether when it happened. Ian climbed back into the passenger seat with a couple of coffees from the gas station. Marshall had the late shift and it was his job to stay awake with him. He passed over one of the cups when Marshall finally finished filling the gas tank and Marshall only took a sip before pulling back out onto the highway.

There was music playing quietly and the two of them weren’t talking much. Ian was starting to doze as he ignored the passing lights.

“You know I meant what I said that night, right?”

“Huh?” Ian started awake a little, carefully pushing himself up in his seat.

“When we were in the hospital, and I said everything was worth it.” Marshall absently ran a hand over his lower lip, and down over the scar that remained there. “I don’t know what I would do if we weren’t touring, if we hadn’t had you pretty much gift-wrapped and dropped on our doorstep.”

Ian grinned and ducked his head at the way that Marshall worded it.

“Thanks man,” Ian said, “I’m glad I’m here too.”

He raised his hand and bumped fists with Marshall, a practice he’d picked up on tour with them, before the two of them settled into the comfortable silence of the night driving shift once again.

And this, this was the story that Ian always told when people asked him about Alex Marshall.

Part II

I'll find My Words When There's No One Talking (Master Post)

Mon, 01 Jun 2009 04:59:29 GMT

Title: I’ll Find My Words When There’s No One Talking

Author:

exmptfromsanity

Word Count: 15,329

Rating: PG-13 for some (everyday) language

Pairing: Ian/Johnson, with a little bit of Cash/Alex, and some barely there Patrick/Pete and William/Gabe (and a few surprises).

Summary: This is what the off-season looks like for the Chicagoland circus. Ian’s not sure what to do with this.

Disclaimer: Umm… Ian’s hair may look like a lions mane but I don’t see him training circus cats in his free time. The boys belong to themselves. I only wish this were true.

Author’s Note: I’ve been working on this on and off since I wrote the first one which can be found (link). Unfortunately, student teaching made me way too busy. Here it is.

Also, the original story can be found here

Part I
Part II
Part III

I'll Find The Words When There's No One Talking (Part III)

Mon, 01 Jun 2009 04:52:38 GMT

When Ian opened his eyes again it was morning. His shades were open and the sun was streaming in. He groaned loudly, rolling away and squeezing his eyes shut. His head was pounding and his mouth tasted like cotton. It took him a minute but as the night before came rushing back he quickly determined that Johnson was most definitely not in his room anymore.

“Fuck,” he muttered darkly. He didn’t want to move. Fucking Pete.

When Ian finally did manage to get himself out of bed he showered before heading downstairs. Hopefully there was some good hangover food in the kitchen.

Just as he was about to push the swinging door out of his way it swung out towards him and he stumbled backwards as Johnson almost knocked into him, both of them stopping short.

“Hey,” he mumbled, voice scratchy.

Johnson just looked at him for a moment. “I have to get to work,” he said stiffly, pushing past Ian and heading out the front door.

Ian stared after him before pushing into the kitchen to find Gabe making pancakes. He sank down at the kitchen table, putting his forehead to the cool wooden surface.

Ian really hoped that it was just the fact that it had been morning and Johnson had been running late. Yeah, Johnson wasn’t the greatest person to be around in the morning but he wasn’t typically short with people like he had been. He’d never been quite so snappy toward Ian.

When he went to work with the cats that afternoon he’d hoped to run into Johnson but he either wasn’t there or he was making an effort not to be around people. Ian’s practice was lackluster and the cats could tell. Tokyo refused to stay on point and Ian gave up pretty quickly. He let them into the enclosure outside to let them run around and get some exercise while he sagged against the fence.

Sierra put her head against the fence, catching on to his mood and begging for attention. He gave in quickly enough, climbing inside and letting her lay on the ground with her head in his lap.

The only problem was that he’d found a ride in with Patrick that day and Patrick noticed when everyone was off.

“You didn’t get much done today,” he noted when Ian climbed into the passenger seat of his car to head back to the house.

“It just wasn’t working,” Ian explained, pulling one leg up onto the seat, resting an elbow on his knee. “My arm’s still bothering me. I didn’t want to push it and get screwed again.”

Patrick glanced over at him. “Do you want to go to the doctor about that?”

Ian shook his head, “Just don’t let Pete mix me any more drinks.”

Patrick grinned just a little bit. There was a reason he’d hired Ian. He knew when he could work and when things just weren’t going to work. He didn’t force them and he’d even pulled the cats from the act on more than one occasion.

“I want you to let Pete look at that whenever he gets home,” Patrick said before he allowed the car to fall silent.

-

Pete made a face as Ian unwrapped his arm.

“Ow,” he commented.

Ian shrugged. I wasn’t that bad but he’d needed an excuse to give Patrick.

He was the one who made a face as Pete cleaned the cut. It wasn’t that Ian hadn’t cleaned it the day before he just hadn’t done it thoroughly enough for Pete’s taste, but fuck, that shit stung.

“Baby,” Pete teased.

“Sadist,” Ian accused right back, kicking at Pete’s ankle.

Pete was still wrapping his arm when Cash and Johnson walked through the room, coming in from work.

“Johnson,” Ian called, trying to get his attention.

He knew Johnson had heard him, his shoulders tensing just enough to be noticeable, but he kept walking. Cash paused for half a second, glancing between the two of them before continuing up the stairs behind Johnson.

“So, have you thought about what you want to do about your birthday,” Pete asked. Ian was celebrating in less than a week.

“Not really,” Ian responded, tapping his foot impatiently. “I’m not much in the mood to celebrate.”

“Well, think about it,” Pete said, sitting back, “I need to know what kind of alcohol I need to buy. Get out of here.”

Ian winced at Pete’s words and bolted out of the chair and up the stairs. Johnson’s door was closed but he knocked anyway. Marshall, Alex or Cash would have just pushed their way inside but Ian actually had a sense of boundaries. He knocked again.

“Go away, Ian.” Johnson’s voice was very clear from inside.

Ian bit his lip. Okay, Johnson was most definitely pissed. Shit, this was not good. Staying there was just going to piss him off more.

“I’m sorry,” he said, loud enough that he was sure Johnson could hear him, before heading back to his own room.

It wasn’t quite ignoring him; it was more leaving the room when he came in or making sure he had a reason to avoid him. And yeah, Ian could understand why Johnson was avoiding him. It was an idiot move to kiss someone you didn’t know was interested sober, let alone in the state Ian had been that night.

That was why, three days later, when Ian came home from the fairgrounds late only to have Johnson storm out of the kitchen Ian wanted to throw something at the wall. His chest was tight as he locked himself in the downstairs bathroom. He was not going to cry over this, even though the lump in his throat was making it a little hard to breathe.

He splashed cold water on his face and the back of his neck, rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his palm as they watered. Finally he took one long, deep breath and forced himself back out into the apartment.

Cash and Alex were in their typical spot on the couch when Ian found them. They were making out and he was pretty sure they would totally ignore him but he walked over and sat carefully on the coffee table.

Alex was the first one to notice him, cracking an eye open and taking in Ian’s probably haggard appearance. He slowed and turned his head just a bit, muttering “Cash.”

Cash backed out of the kiss and looked over at Ian, annoyed, “What?”

His response was short and Ian really didn’t need that either. His breath caught a little bit and watched as Alex pushed Cash off of him, sitting up to really look at Ian properly.

“Dude, are you okay?”

“I kissed Johnson,” he said miserably.

Alex’s eyes went almost comically wide as he and Cash exchanged a look.

“Umm, what?” Alex finally asked.

“We were watching a movie the night of Brendon’s birthday and I think I was a little tipsy and I just…” he waved his hands uselessly, “and now he won’t even talk to me.”

They told him that talking to people was cathartic, that it helped. Really, it just made everything come crashing down harder. Ian let his head fall forward in his hands, rubbing them over his eyes again.

“Shit,” Cash muttered, finally fully extricating himself from Alex. “Okay, tell me exactly what happened.”

When Ian started mumbling into his hand Cash tangled a hair in his curls and pulled his head up so that they could actually hear him.

Ian slowly explained himself. “I don’t know why I did it and I… I don’t think anything else happened, but-”

“You did it because you have a massive crush on Johnson,” Cash said slowly, as though speaking to someone who was slow.

“What? No I don’t.” Ian said defensively.

Cash gave Ian a calculating look before bringing a hand up to the bridge of his nose. “Why am I surrounded by moronic guys who don’t understand their own feelings?”

“Hey!” Both Alex and Ian snapped at the same time.

“Please, just admit it so that we can move on with this discussion.”

“I,” Ian bit his lip as he looked at both of them giving him an expectant look, “Yeah, I have a crush on Johnson.”

“Good.”

“But… isn’t Johnson gay?”

Alex and Cash exchanged a look and Ian really wished they’d stop doing that.

“We don’t know,” Alex replied.

“You’ve known him since you were fourteen, how do you not know?” Ian legitimately couldn’t believe what they were telling him.

“Dude, Johnson’s a ninja,” Alex said, as though it explained everything.

Cash gave Alex a fond look before turning to Ian. “Look, it’s just not how Johnson is. He doesn’t volunteer information and we don’t ask. I know, we’re close, but Johnson lets us bitch and moan and just keeps it really general. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him flirt with anyone enough to even give me an idea.”

Ian took a deep breath, “okay, so I… either way he’s mad at me.”

“Yeah, Johnson’s kind of an asshole when he’s pissed at you,” Cash said rubbing the back of his neck.

“Last time he got really pissed at Cash they didn’t talk for almost a month.”

“Fuck,” Ian muttered. “Is there any way for me to apologize, show him I’m sorry.”

“You can try,” Cash said, “Can’t promise it’ll work.”

Ian wanted to curse. “What am I going to do?”

“You can ride in to feed the cats with us for a while,” Alex said, “Just leave him alone. I’m not saying he doesn’t hold grudges but he’ll come around eventually.”

It was easier said than done. Even though there were more than a dozen people living in the house it seemed that you always ran into the people you least wanted to see. Johnson seemed to be everywhere Ian was going. They ran into each other in the living room, the kitchen, and at the grounds constantly. Every time Ian had to restrain himself from saying something as Johnson left the room or caught himself up in some conversation with another person.

Ian couldn’t help it. The whole situation sucked. He sat at work, doodling a t-shirt design, on the morning of his birthday when Jon and Johnson came into the shop. He didn’t say anything in greeting but Jon grinned and started up toward the counter, Johnson close on his heels.

“Hey, fro-boy,” he greeted.

“Hey guys,” Ian said, glancing at Johnson.

“Excuse me,” was all Johnson said as he ducked past Ian as he headed upstairs.

Ian looked after him for a moment before slumping back down onto his stool.

Jon hadn’t seemed to notice, “So Pete’s kind of disappointed that you’ve been so down lately. He doesn’t know if he should actually throw you a party tonight or not.”

Ian shrugged, “I’m not really in the mood to party.”

“Should I ask what’s going on?”

Ian looked at him. It was probably best not to spread what was going on to more of the house than was necessary.

“I’m just having a lousy week,” Ian shrugged. He slid the latest drawing across the counter. It was a guitar and a set of turntables set to represent Jon’s DJ booth.

Jon’s face split into a grin. “Dude, it sucks that you’re upset; you always make everyone else smile. Want a ride over to the fairgrounds?”

“Yeah, I’ll go ask Pete if I can head out. Watch the counter for me?”

“Always.”

When Ian reached the top of the stairs he headed for Pete’s desk and dropped the drawing there.

“I’m going down to practice. Do you want to come downstairs?”

Pete grinned at the drawing. “Be down in a minute.”

Ian nodded and headed back for the stairs. As he ducked into the office to grab his jacket he caught sight of Johnson
talking to Patrick, his arms crossed tightly over is chest.

“I just don’t want to work under those conditions-” He cut off quickly as he caught sight of Ian and Patrick glanced back behind him.

“Sorry,” Ian grabbed his jacket and fled downstairs. Shit, if Johnson was really that mad about this he didn’t know what he was going to do.

-

The workout with the cats went better than it had all week. Tokyo was on her best behavior and both of them ran through their exercises almost flawlessly. After everything that had happened in the past week or so Ian was actually pretty relieved.

Instead of hanging around to watch Alex and Marshall practice he made the trek down to Bella’s paddock.

She was walking along the fence and he leaned against it, reaching a hand out, “Hey girl.”

Bella moved in his direction, but not close enough for Ian to reach.

“He’s not going to hurt you, baby.” Johnson’s flat voice was close behind him but Ian forced himself not to jump and scare Bella away.

She stepped closer, close enough for him to scratch at Bella’s trunk.

“What’re you doing out here?” Johnson asked.

“I wanted to apologize to you. Cash said to leave you alone, but I can’t get it out of my head.”

Johnson sighed, “Cash, great, no wonder he’s been on my case all week. I have to talk to Jon about some music work.”

As he began moving away Ian stepped after him.

“Then just let me talk.”

Johnson didn’t say anything to that so he continued as both of them walked toward the tent. “Look, I know being drunk
isn’t an excuse. It wasn’t with me and Cash over the summer and it isn’t now. And I, uh, talked to Cash and Alex. They know you better than I do and they said to leave you alone but I can’t do that.

“That was an asshole move, drunk or not, to just spring that on you instead of saying something, asking you first. Jesus, I’d flip in your position. I’m surprised you haven’t screamed at me yet. It was just, some of the stuff you’ve been saying, I thought… it doesn’t really matter, obviously I was wrong.”

Johnson hadn’t even turned around to look at him or speak as they headed into the tent, though he did hold the curtain open so Ian could catch it.

“And I get it if you don’t want to be around me, or talk to me, or whatever, but I just need to know what you’re thinking. I made a mistake, and I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you by implying you were-”

He cut off as Johnson opened the door to Jon’s DJ booth and they both froze.

Inside Jon had Marshall sitting on top of the counter, his legs wrapped around either side of Jon’s waist, and his arms up around Jon’s neck. Jon’s hands were fisted in Marshall’s shirt and in his hair as the two of them kissed in a way that rivaled Cash and Alex’s most public makeout sessions in the living room.

Johnson let the door swing closed and backed away.

“Was I imagining that or did you see it?”

“I… what was that?”

The two of them let out quiet laughter at the same time, neither saying anything to one another, just thinking about how crazy what they’d just seen was.

“Hey, have you seen Marsh?” Alex was coming up to them and Ian couldn’t do any more than point. Cash was close behind and the reaction was very different when Alex opened the door to the booth.

“What the fuck?” Cash shouted.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Johnson said suddenly, as they could hear but not see the commotion inside the DJ booth,
“I’m sorry, I just can’t right now. I’ve got to get back.”

He was up and gone before Ian could think of something to say.

-

So, Marshall and Jon were…

Where did that even come from? It wasn’t their fault that they were ridiculous in their tripping over each other and being all hands and trying but failing to explain how it happened. To be honest, Ian felt like he should have seen it coming, what with the interactions he’d seen the week before.

Not to say that the timing didn’t absolutely suck.

“They don’t mean to make you miserable,” Alex told him on the drive home. “It’s just, fuck, where did that come from? Sorry Ian.”

Ian just forced a smile and shook his head. He really did like Alex not that he was speaking to him, and not acting all paranoid.

When they got back to the house Ian headed up to his room, dropping down onto his bed and pulling his acoustic out of the closet. He’d barely touched the instrument since the two circuses had joined, finally having some friends his own age who were always around but right now he needed to think. He thought about what Johnson had said earlier, that he couldn’t talk to Ian, and then him telling Patrick he wasn’t happy with working conditions. Ian strummed a few chords, trying to take his mind off of it. This was just a bad situation; he’d seen people fired for stuff like this.

He played a few bars of one of the songs Jon was playing for the show.

“Crawford!” The voice that called upstairs was loud, and unmistakably Patrick.

Ian felt the blood drain from his face. On his fucking birthday?

“Coming,” he yelled back, his voice a little strained.

He put his guitar onto the bed and shut the door to his room behind him. He didn’t hurry because he wasn’t sure he
wanted to have this conversation. The living room was relatively empty with Patrick sitting on the couch and Pete moving around in the entryway. The door was open to the kitchen which was crowded with people making dinner.

“Hey,” Patrick said, looking up from the paperwork on the table in front of him, “How’s your arm doing?”

“Better.” Ian dropped into the chair across from him. “What’s up?”

Patrick finally put down his pen and sat back in his chair, giving Ian an annoyed look.

“You’re a pain in the ass, do you know that?”

Ian maybe shrunk down in his chair a little bit at that. “Umm…”

“I mean, we had everything all planned out and the way you acted kind of ruined that.”

Okay, Patrick was good at being up front about things, but he didn’t have to make Ian feel even worse.

“I didn’t mean to,” he tried to explain. “It just kind of happened and kept spiraling out. You’re friends with Pete, you know how that happens.”

“Ha!” Pete laughed from behind Ian, letting him know that he was listening in.

“True.” Patrick admitted, “Well, I guess we’ll just have to do this and deal with the plans we have to change around. Close your eyes.”

That took Ian by surprise a little. “What?”

“Will you just do it?” Patrick crossed his arms over his chest. “And don’t open them until I tell you to.”

“Okay.” Ian officially had no idea what was going on, but he trusted Patrick. He closed his eyes.

“Okay Pete,” he heard Patrick say and he could feel Pete come up behind the chair.

“Keep them closed,” Pete said, and then there was a warm weight being put in Ian’s lap.

Ian tensed up a little. What the fuck? But then the warm form did something that was unmistakable. Ian felt the distinctive vibration of a purr. He sucked in a sharp breath.

“Okay,” Patrick said, and Ian could just hear the smugness in his voice.

Ian opened his eyes quickly, looking down to find a lump of black fur in his lap, green eyes looking up at him. He immediately brought a hand up to let the kitten sniff at his fingers before carefully petting it.

“Patrick,” he said, voice awed. “What?”

“She’s a black leopard, or panther I guess. I talked to your uncle and he put me in touch with a breeder. She’s going to be harder to train than Sierra but he said that Tokyo was probably the most difficult you’ve had, especially getting her so early on.”

Ian lifted the kitten up in his arms, hugging it to his chest. “But…”

“I know, you didn’t want the circus to pay for a new cat, but we had some extra funds after the repairs and changes we made, and you designed a lot of stuff for us. You deserve it.”

Ian didn’t know what to say. Clearly this wasn’t about Johnson, and nothing earlier had been. Even with that he couldn’t not be excited about a new cat. He felt tears actually start stinging at the back of his eyes, he was so happy to have her in his arms.

“Thank you,” he managed. “She’s beautiful.”

Patrick smiled, “Our pleasure.”

“Hey,” William was sticking his head out the kitchen door when they all looked. “Can we all come out and see the kitten
yet or do we have to stay trapped in the kitchen?”

Ian chuckled a little as Patrick waved them into the room. More people had been in the kitchen than Ian had realized and they all filed out into the living room and toward the couches.

He let people rotate in to meet the new addition and was pulled into conversations, more than he had been all week. He almost forgot about the situation that was going on, and he had to smile as she pawed at Ryan’s long fingers.

When he finally did retreat back to his room it was mostly because the kitten was starting to tense up, uneasy with all of the people and action going on around her. He knew she needed some quiet time and Pete helped him, carrying up the crate she had been transferred in as Ian refused to let her go. He sat down on his bed as Pete settled the crate onto a section of empty floor.

“She’s totally not going to sleep in there, is she?”

“Letting a big cat sleep on your bed spoils them,” Ian said, not believing the words even as he said them. “It’s not a good habit to let them get into, especially if you’re going to train them.”

“Right,” Pete laughed as he and Ian locked eyes. Ian grinned.

The next morning Ian woke up to a small black lump head-butting his forearm. He lifted it and let the kitten come in
closer, curling up into the warmth of his chest and purring. Nothing could bring Ian down when something was this close to him and making that sound.

Patrick hadn’t half-assed his gift. The formula he preferred was ready in the fridge and bottles on the counter. He let her pad around the kitchen as he got it ready, and when he turned to find her she was chewing on the bottom of Gabe’s pant-leg as he sat drinking coffee at the table. The two of them exchanged a grin as he scooped her up into his arm.

“You want some coffee?” Gabe asked as he got up to make himself another cup.

“Sure,” Ian nodded.

He let her finish her food before he even touched the drink. He was relieved that she was content to sit there in his lap, gnawing on his thumb as he sipped his coffee. As a kitten Tokyo had never been content to stay still, but this kitten was calm, hopefully a sign he’d be able to start training her the next winter.

Gabe entertained her while Ian showered and changed and he didn’t expect anything short of attention for her over the next few days. He wondered if this was like what having kids was like, and he couldn’t wait to get to the fairgrounds because Cash, Alex and Marshall had all been working the night before.

He still had work to do today, even more so because his girls would have to get used to the smell. He knew better than to bring her near. She needed to be bigger and they needed to be used to her smell before they would let her in.
He took a seat on the side of the ring and watched Alex and Marshall running through their routine. The tent was crowded with people as official practices began in just a few weeks. Everyone was running their routines, trying out changes, or trying to sync things up to the music they had selected.

Cash was the first to come over and sit down next to him, reaching out to scratch the kitten behind the ears. She purred loudly, arching into his touch and Ian grinned as Cash laughed.

“Dude, she’s fucking awesome. Did you think of a name yet?”

Ian shook his head, “I have a few ideas but nothing yet. I need to find something that fits her.”

“She’s going to be so spoiled,” Cash chuckled.

He was right. He hadn’t been around when Ian’s other girls were kittens. They’d been spoiled too, but now there were even more people, people who would show up at Ian’s trailer at all hours just to play with the kitten.

The two of them sat and gave her attention until Alex and Marshall were done with their run through and headed over to them. Alex dropped to his knees in front of Ian, looking at her with big, wide eyes.

“Can I hold her?” he asked, his gaze shooting up to meet Ian’s.

Ian hadn’t relinquished his hold on her since Pete had put her in his lap, not for anyone, but these guys were his family.
He lifted her up and placed her carefully in Alex’s lap. She butted her head against his stomach and flopped down as he and Marshall started scratching at her sides. She looked comfortable and calm.

“Do you guys think you can watch her while I feed and work out the big cats?” he asked.

Alex looked up, “Really?”

“Yeah.” Ian smiled at the look on his friend’s face. “It’s going to be a few hours.”

“We’ve got her,” Marshall assured him.

“Cool, thanks.”

He left them to coo over her and made his way to the cages outside. The new kitten had only served to remind him how much he loved his girls. He tossed the steaks into the cages and sat in a comfortable silence as they ate, just watching them, remembering back to when they had been the size of the new cat.

Sierra was the first to finish and she came over to where he was sitting, scratching at the door to her cage, asking to be let out. When he stepped closer she sniffed at him curiously. She tilted her head to the side curiously, and when he let her out she climbed down to the ground, sniffing at him.

“Yeah, you want to meet your new sister?” Ian asked, crouching down to scratch along her neck. “I’ll bring her down soon. I think you’ll like her, just like you liked Tokyo.”

Tokyo’s reaction was different. When Ian let her out it took her a minute of rubbing up against his legs, begging for attention to catch the small of the leopard. She moved in close and growled a little bit.

“Hey,” he said in his stern voice, “None of that.”

So long as there was growling he wouldn’t bring her down. He crouched down to her level and wrapped his arms around her body, immersing himself in her smell, and scratching along her back.

“Is that better you spoiled brat?” he asked, laughing at her just a little bit. She only rubbed her head against his bent knee in response.

He practiced with them outside, rather than bringing them into the crowded ring. It was more running through exercises than going through the actual routine. There were a couple little things that he wanted to work on with both of them. And maybe, just maybe he gave them some extra attention and let them crawl all over him before he put them away for the day.

When he made it back inside he found Alex and Marshall back on the swings and Cash running a full-scale clown act with Brendon, Pete and the rest of the gang. He didn’t feel any sort of panic, someone had her. It did take some searching, but he ducked into Jon’s DJ booth, and found her curled up on top of one of the consoles, asleep, as he worked on the music for one of the groups on the floor. He took a seat in one of the spare chairs and relaxed for the first time all week.
-

“Hey.”

Ian looked up from where he was sitting on his bed, splayed out on his back with the kitten on his chest. She’d slept for

several hours after so much excitement at the fairgrounds and was now wide awake and wanted Ian to play.
Aside from all of that catching sight of Johnson really caught his attention.

“Hi,” he replied quietly.

“I, uh, I came to see what all the commotion was about,” Johnson said, a little bit hesitant. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah man, you don’t even have to ask,” Ian said. He picked her up off of his chest as he scooted back to sit up and leave room on the mattress for Johnson.

Johnson wasted no time climbing onto the bed, though he didn’t reach out to pet her as most other people had. He watched her as Ian put her back down in his lap.

The kitten crawled out onto the bed between them and stretched her neck out, sniffing at Johnson’s pants. Johnson tentatively lifted a hand, catching her attention. She reared up onto her hind legs, grabbing for his hand with her front legs.

Johnson made a squeaking sound and caught her, letting her press her head into the crook of his elbow as she crawled into his lap.

“Cash said you were still trying to think of a name.” He said it without looking up.

“Izzy,” Ian said aloud. “Her name’s Izzy.”

He reached out a hand to catch at her tail as it moved slowly back and forth.

“It fits,” Johnson commented. He scratched behind her ears and she purred loudly.

It was the only sound between them as silence settled over the room.

“I don’t want to keep apologizing to you,” Ian said.

At the same time Johnson spoke, “Look Ian, I’m sorry about…” He stopped upon hearing what Ian had said.

“You don’t have to apologize,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m sorry too. I… you weren’t wrong about some of the things I’ve said to you being… they meant something.”

Ian sat up a little straighter, a little more tense.

“Johnson,” he managed to get out, “I need you to tell me what you mean and be straight and really simple with me, okay. It’s been… just, a really long week and I don’t know if I can deal with any more.”

Johnson grinned a little bit, “Thank God you’re not such a clueless girl like Alex.”

Ian didn’t respond, just looked at him.

“I’ve maybe had a thing for you for a while,” Johnson said, his gaze focused on Izzy, like he couldn’t look Ian in the face. “And some of the things I said, were kind of pointed because I thought… I knew, I guess. I just didn’t expect it to be when you were too bombed to stand up straight.”

“I’m sorry,” Ian said again, voice tight.

“No, I,” Johnson sighed, looking up, “It’s not okay. It was kind of shitty, but I could have handled it better too. I tend to do
that when I’m pissed, just put up my walls and ignore the problem, and that’s not how I should have done it. I want to do it better.”

“Okay,” Ian nodded.

Johnson looked at him hard for a minute before sighing and speaking again.

“Then will you get over here so that I can kiss you without squishing your stupid cat,” he said, his calm monotone raising slightly in annoyance, The only reason Ian even noticed it was because he’d spent so much time with Johnson around Cash.

Ian scooted across the bed until their knees were touching, Izzy still pressed in against Johnson’s front. Johnson didn’t hesitate once Ian was in range. He reached out, sliding his hand around the back of Ian’s neck and tangling it in his curls, pulling his head in, tilting his own to make the slide of their lips better.

It was better than Ian remembered and he quickly leaned forward, clenching a fist in the front of Johnson’s t-shirt and sliding the other over Johnson’s shoulder to hold them together. Johnson kissed like he talked, slow and easy, but with something behind it that made Ian hungry for more.

He didn’t know how much time had passed but Johnson suddenly pressed forward even harder, tongue sweeping out across Ian’s bottom lip and Ian let out a shuddering gasp. Out of habit he bit down lightly, catching Johnson’s lip
between his teeth and the sound of Johnson’s moan in response made a shiver run down his spine.
It was like a challenge after that, each trying to outdo the other as the kiss turned messy and frantic.

It was the very loud meow that made them finally jump apart, Izzy complaining about being squished between them while they were trying to get closer.

Ian took a deep breath and it shook a little as he let it out. “Okay, little girl,” he said, lifting her out of Johnson’s lap. “I think it’s time for you to go to bed.”

He put her down into the crate and she easily curled up there, the lazy cat in her coming out already.

As he turned back to Johnson he ducked his head a little bit, cheeks flushing pink.

“You owe me a movie,” Johnson said.

Ian grinned, “Fuck the movie. You don’t need an excuse to come in here anymore.”

Johnson nodded, lying back on the bed. “C’mere.”

Ian stretched out next to Johnson, rolling onto his side and letting Johnson take hold of his arm, pulling him in again. Johnson’s hands slid under his shirt, hot against his bare skin. Ian let out a small whine, low in his throat and finally felt himself really relax.

-

It was soft meowing that woke Ian up in the morning. Izzy was scratching at the door to her crate, eager to be let out.
Ian let out a groan but forced himself out of bed, bringing her down to do her business. Instead of bringing her back upstairs however, he walked into the living room. Marshall was on the couch, watching TV and not looking as though he was getting ready to work.
“Hey, you want to babysit for a while?” he asked.

Marshall’s face lit up, “Hell yeah.”

Ian set her down on Marshall’s lap. “Thanks, I should be up in a while to make her another bottle.”

“Dude,” Marshall gave him a knowing look, “Don’t worry about it. Jon’s making me coffee, he’ll help.”

“Thanks,” Ian said again before heading back upstairs.

He didn’t bother turning the light on in his room when he got back, but he was careful sliding back into bed and pressing
up against Johnson’s bare back.

“Mmm…” Johnson moaned a little bit, stirring. He rolled over onto his back and grinned at Ian.
“Hey.”

“Morning,” Ian replied, pulling Johnson closer to him and pressing a light kiss to the side of his mouth.

“Izzy?” Johnson asked.

“Marsh and Jon are watching her downstairs.”

Johnson nodded and rolled a little more, pressing more of his weight onto Ian, “Good.” He kissed him again, this time
more forcefully than before, wrapping both of his arms around Johnson’s waist and pulling him in close. They pressed
together from shoulder to hip; Johnson’s sliding between Ian’s and catching behind his calf to hold them even closer. He was indescribably glad that Johnson had still been there when he’d woken up.

Finally Johnson tugged lightly on Ian’s hair, pulling him back just a little bit. Ian kissed lightly at Johnson’s jaw before sitting back.

“I think we should call the living room couch tonight,” Johnson said, a mischievous look on his face.

Ian’s mind was already going to what that meant. People were going to know, going to know about Johnson for sure and
see them together. He wondered for a moment how Bella would react to Izzy. She was a lot smaller and less scary than the big cats. Was instinct going to win out or would it be worth a shot. If they were going to be spending time
together this summer it was going to have to work out.

He was brought back down by the feel of Johnson’s fingers tracing over the dove tattoo on his chest. Taking over the
living room meant stealing Cash and Alex’s spot.

He caught a hand under Johnson’s chin so that they were looking one another in the face.

“Yeah, I think I can get behind that,” he said.

Johnson grinned, something Ian hoped he would get used to seeing, and leaned in again. Ian closed his eyes as Johnson kissed him. This was really it, as far as he was concerned life couldn’t get any more perfect.

I'll find My Words When There's No One Talking (Part II)

Mon, 01 Jun 2009 03:51:52 GMT

When Ian rolled out of bed the next morning he cursed himself because it was so late. Marshall’s car wasn’t in the driveway. They were supposed to wake him, drive him down to the grounds to feed the cats. He took a quick shower and walked through the house to try to find someone else. The place was empty. Everyone was either at work or practice now that things were getting rolling.

Ian cursed because his car was trapped in the mess of vehicles they had in the lot behind the house. It would take some serious juggling to get his out.

“Hey,” Johnson came in through the front door, still dressed in his work clothes. “You been down to the fairgrounds yet. I have to go feed Bella.”

“Give me a ride?” Ian asked.

“Yeah, sure.”

“I think we need another movie night,” Johnson said as they pulled away from the house a few minutes later. “If I have to watch another night of someone else’s TV I’m going to strangle someone.”

“Yeah,” Ian agreed, “I can live with that.”

“Good.”

Ian followed Johnson down to Bella’s paddock when they arrived and watched from a distance as he climbed up onto her back with practiced ease. Johnson rode Bella in his direction. He hadn’t even seen the cats yet but she still seemed wary of coming near him. Johnson murmured quietly to her.

“It’s alright, Ian isn’t going to hurt you.”

She came closer and the hand Ian reached out was tentative. He almost jumped back when he touched her trunk because she’d never let him do that before. He stepped back after a moment.

“I should go take care of the cats.”

“Okay,” Johnson replied, voice even, “I’m going to work with her out here so you can bring them into the tent if you want.”

“Thanks.”

While the cats ate Ian wandered into the tent where Marshall and Jon were arguing over music as Alex ran through warm ups. Cash and Brendon were running around the edge of the ring, tumbling and working through what Ian assumed was an old routine. He sat down on the bleachers to relax and watch. Cash kept glancing up at Alex in a nervous habit. Ian couldn’t say he blamed him.

When he finally noticed Ian he came over. “I want to hear about the new cat.”

“What?”

“Johnson said you were going to get leopard, or something.”

Word spread too fast through their group, “Can’t afford it.”

“Man, that sucks. I was all excited about getting to play with a kitten.”

“Me too,” Ian said sadly. “I guess it’s just the girls for now. They gotten anything done?”

Cash looked toward the ring, “Nope, Marshall and Jon are bickering over the music they want to use. Marsh wants something piano based, Jon’s thinking oldies.”

“What about Alex?”

Cash grinned, “Alex is avoiding getting involved and incurring Marsh’s wrath since he agrees with Jon. You two are good by the way. I explained things to him.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem. What’s the plan for the new show?”

Ian grinned; he loved talking about his girls. Without much prompting he launched into the new ideas he had for the show. Cash sat and listened patiently. Ian knew it was because he was bummed about the new cat, but he appreciated it nonetheless.

When he finally went to get the cats, and bring them into the ring, they were calm and full, perking up as they entered the tent. Tokyo hopped right up onto one of the stools and balanced up on her hind legs.

He let Sierra lay on the dirt floor as he ran Tokyo through some easy exercises, jumps and faking lashing out at him. She was the younger of the two and would be impatient if he didn’t let her do work. When he clicked his tongue Sierra raised her head and got to her feet, coming over and jumping up to put her paws on his shoulders. He stumbled back a little bit before he caught himself. She was heavy. Tokyo was headed in their direction and he sent both of them to their stools with a few motions of his hand. A low whistle prompted each of them to growl, threateningly and he grinned. His girls were amazing.

He patted his legs and got Sierra to follow him around the ring as Tokyo sat patiently, waiting for her orders, tail twitching as she watched closely.

He could hear Marshall and Jon, still arguing over music. When he glanced over at their ring he found Singer hanging from the trapeze with a grip on Johnson’s wrists. He stopped short in his jog and Sierra passed him, turning and head-butting his hip.

He scratched her behind the ears as he watched them doing a few simple tricks, nothing near as complicated as what Alex and Marshall pulled off, but a lot more than Ian could do even on the ground. Sometimes he forgot that Johnson had grown up in a circus, forgot that he could do just about everything.

He kept staring until there was a sudden growl as Tokyo leapt at Sierra and she twisted away from him to swat back.

“Hey,” he snapped, “None of that.”

He tugged on Sierra’s collar and she backed off, but Tokyo took a bit of effort. Maybe it was best that he didn’t try anything new yet; she was still young and liked to misbehave. “No,” he told her pulling her away, “Brat. I’m going to put you back in your cage.”

She finally stopped pushing, only to look up at him with her big brown eyes, turning her head to lick at his hand.

“Brat,” he sighed, relenting and scratching along her spine as he tugged her back across the ring.

He climbed back into Johnson’s car an hour later, kicked into the backseat by a still frustrated Jon.

“Why won’t that stupid kid just listen?” he asked Johnson, “I know what I’m talking about when it comes to music. It fits their routine better.”

Even from the backseat Ian could see Johnson roll his eyes. “Maybe if you didn’t spend half your time trying to piss him off you would seem more sincere about your music choices.”

Jon bit back a grin, “But that’s the best part.”

The three of them laughed as Johnson reversed out of his parking space.

-

Ian came home from the closing shift at Pete’s store two nights later to find the house practically empty. Pete was running out the door with Gabe and William hot on his heels.

As he made his way through the bottom floor of the house he found Sisky in the kitchen eating leftovers and loud music coming from Brendon’s room. Then he hit the living room. Cash and Alex seemed to once again have claimed the couch for themselves. Cash didn’t have a shirt on and was on top of Alex, hands clearly sliding up his shirt and holding him down. Their lips slid together slowly and Ian could only tear his gaze away as Cash roughly pushed his hips downward. Okay, those two were hot together, he would admit that, but that was something that he did not need to see.

He moved on through the room, throwing only one comment out at them, “Don’t come on the couch.”

“Don’t ruin the buzz,” Cash snapped back and Ian didn’t dare turn around to see what it was Alex did to make him groan.

He pushed open the door to his room only to find Johnson digging through his movie bin.

“Do you have Dazed and Confused in here somewhere?”

“Yeah,” Ian stuttered, “What are you doing in here?”

“Your room’s farther than mine from the living room,” Johnson replied as he located the movie and held it up victoriously. He looked up and pushed his hair out of his face, “And because you owe me a movie night.”

Ian grinned, “Both equally good reasons.”

Johnson backed across the floor as Ian kicked off his shoes and peeled his sweatshirt over his head. He collapsed down onto the bed as Johnson cued up the movie and shut off the main light in the room.

“Scoot over,” he said, shoving at Ian’s shoulder.

There was plenty of room on the bed but Ian could feel the warmth of Johnson next to him as the movie started and Johnson chuckled as Ben Affleck’s asshole character made his first appearance.

“They been at it all night?”

Johnson shrugged, “Alex came back and like jumped Cash in the kitchen, frightening experience.” He shuddered a little.
Ian chuckled, “I can imagine.”

“But I guess they have a lot of catching up to do, making up for lost time.”

“What was it like when you guys all toured with you parents?” Ian asked. He’d come into the Chicagoland group almost three years ago, and he’d always been considered the kid. He hadn’t exactly been an outsider but he certainly wasn’t as close to anyone as Johnson was to Alex, Marshall and Cash.

Johnson shrugged, rolling onto his side to face Ian. “I don’t know how to describe it. I was never not around it, you know. I dropped out of school when I was sixteen because I just hated it. I loved the summer when I could just go have fun. I knew it was what I wanted to do when I was fourteen, the first summer all of them came out with us. It was just me and my friends doing what I loved.”

“What about Bella?”

A hazy grin pulled across Johnson’s face. “I got her when I was twelve. My dad helped me train her. It killed me the first year I had to go to school and leave her behind.”

“I can imagine.”

“What about the cats.”

“My uncle trains them. He got me into them and gave me Sierra. He does stage shows but Pete made me an offer and my uncle talked me into spending my graduation money on Tokyo before we left. You know the hell it is to train on the phone.”

Johnson nodded, “Yeah, I do. You would have had fun with us, I think. When we were in the camp the four of us shared a trailer, pulled all kinds of pranks and learned a lot about each other. Cash totally had the biggest thing for Alex since the first time they met. Marshall and I were taking bets on when they would get their act together.”

“Who won?”

“Hmm… I think technically mine was closer but still off by like three years.”

They both laughed and Johnson resettled himself on the mattress, a bit closer to Ian. Ian’s breath caught in his throat for a moment.

“Still, it’d be nice to know you were getting laid every night,” Johnson said before turning back to the movie and leaving Ian staring at him.

-

“Will they stay inside the ring?” Patrick asked.

Ian rolled his eyes. Patrick had asked him every year since he had joined the tour.

“Yes Patrick, they will stay inside the ring, they will not run off in the middle of the performance, they will not be a problem.”

Patrick crossed his arms over his chest, “Don’t be smug with me.”

“Don’t ask me stupid questions.” He scratched under Sierra’s new collar, done up in the colors.

“Go over it with me again?”

“Bring them out into the ring. I’m not using the whip prop anymore, I don’t like it. Do the showcase with each of them, the staged fight, then the rings and those other tricks-”

“What happened to starting with the fight?”

“I want to showcase both of the cats first. Starting off with the fight tends to make the audience pick sides. A lot of people don’t like Tokyo and I want to change that. Anyway, I want to end with maybe Sierra chasing Cash out of the ring.”

Patrick stared at him for a moment, “Does he know about this?”

Ian nodded, “He said as long as neither of them takes a bite out of his ass he’s willing to get a laugh out of it.”

Patrick chuckled, “He would. Okay, why don’t you put them back outside, get them settled. I’ve got to look at this thing Andy and Joe are working on and then we’re all going to head back.”

Ian nodded, clicking his tongue at Tokyo where she was curled up on the floor. She followed him and Sierra out to the gated area that was set up for him. Without any prompting she jumped up into her cage and curled up. They’d done a lot of practicing and work today and well, cats were lazy. Once Ian had fastened both of the doors shut he headed back to the tent.

-

Marshall was back to arguing with Jon about the music, holed away in the booth this time at least. Alex was doing some solo tricks and the rest of the gang were working on or cleaning up from their respective acts.

“What’s with being on the swings so much this spring?” Johnson asked as he hopped up onto Marshall’s swing.

“I missed it over the winter,” Alex replied, “and I want Cash to trust me to go back up in the air when tour starts up again. I don’t want him to worry so much.”

Johnson dropped to hang by his knees, waving to catch Alex’s attention.

“He trusts you, he’s just freaked out that you’re going to fall again.”

Alex rolled his eyes, “and I’ve fallen how many times?”

“That last time was pretty bad.”

“Yeah, once.   I was distracted by what was going on and it hasn’t happened since. Ready?”

“Three,” Johnson counted as they swung, “Two… One.”

Alex left his swing and he and Johnson easily caught one another’s wrists. They swung easily for a moment, quiet.

“And things are good now, no more distractions?”

“A different kind of distraction.” He let Johnson flip him, “A good kind.”

“I’m glad you two finally figured things out.” He dropped one of Alex’s wrists in part of a lift and caught an ankle instead. Their routine was a practice routine that all of them had learned in their first year of camp. They didn’t need to communicate with words.

“Finally?”

There was a quick series of three moves and Johnson focused on them rather than responding. When they landed, once again gripping one another’s wrists it jerked at Johnson’s shoulders a little more than it should have. He took another moment to adjust his grip.

“Marshall and I have been taking bets since that first summer we all went out together. I was telling Ian about it the other night. I put some serious money on you letting Cash shove his tongue down your throat long before last summer.”

Alex looked up at him as they slowly just swung back and forth. “Did Cash say something to you?”

“Nothing specific.” Johnson said, “He asked who you were the first day, asked me what I thought a lot. He thought you were so cool.”

Alex nodded a little, “Let me drop?”

They’d slowed almost to a stop and the cushioned mats were placed under the low trapeze. Johnson counted it down and released Alex’s wrists. It caused his stomach to lurch a bit to do so but Alex landed easily, bouncing a little on the flooring.

Johnson pushed himself to the bar and swung there, using his arms to propel him around the bar a few times.

“So,” Alex called up from where he was sitting on the ground, “Ian?”

Johnson paused, looking down. “What about him?”

“You spend a lot of time hanging out in his room,” Cash replied, coming up behind Alex and dropping to the ground, sliding an arm around Alex’s middle. “Get down here so we can leave, will you.”

Johnson rolled his eyes but let himself drop down to the floor. He let Cash haul him to his feet before he responded, “Well, the view of Ian’s TV is a lot better than watching you two take over the living room every night.”

“Sorry that you’re jealous,” Cash taunted, digging his keys out of his pocket as they made their way outside.

“Right, clearly,” Johnson nodded. “It’s not that Ian’s a cool guy; it’s totally all about how jealous I am of you.”

Cash flashed a bright grin as he started the car’s engine. “We can’t all be so charming.”

As both Johnson and Alex burst out laughing Cash gunned the engine down the drive.

-

“That was smooth,” Cash told Alex as he came out of the bathroom after a shower, a towel wrapped around his waist. “Asking Johnson about Ian.”

“What? I was totally smooth.”

Cash dropped onto the bed, “Yeah, asking him what he thinks of Ian is totally not obvious.”

“Well, Ian has a crush on him. It’s totally obvious now that you said something.”

Cash grinned; a lot of things were obvious after he spelled them out for Alex.

“And he’s, well, he’s Johnson, and even we don’t quite know how to read him. How do you plan to fix things for them?”

Cash shrugged, “I don’t.”

Alex raised an eyebrow.

“Unlike some people Johnson doesn’t need to be pointed in the right direction when someone likes him.”

Alex ducked his head, biting his lip a little, “He told me that you talked about me a lot our first summer at camp.”

Cash’s joking exterior fell. “Did he?”

“I thought you hated me that summer,” Alex said, rolling up onto his side to get closer to Cash. “You picked on me every chance you got.”

“I was a teenage boy.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Alex asked, “Why didn’t Johnson or Marshall?”

Cash shrugged, “We were stupid kids.”

Alex nodded and Cash ducked his head to kiss him, tugging Alex’s lip between his teeth, “Hey. I’ve been fucking head over heels for you since that summer. It’s not my fault you were too thick to realize it.”

“Shut up,” Alex pushed Cash down onto his back.

“It’s okay, baby,” Cash teased, wrapping both of his arms around Alex’s middle, “We’ve got plenty of time to make up for it now.”

“Mmm…” Alex agreed, pressing his face into Cash’s neck and pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw.

“Maybe Johnson’s right. We do spend a lot of time being distracting.”

Cash chuckled, “Like I care.”

-

Ian spent a lot more time doodling at the store these days. He was designing a few t-shirts to sell over the summer, fine lines and splashes of color outlining some of the parts of the act. Two bodies flying through the air for the trapeze, some of the boys’ tattoos for the clowns. Right now he was working on the elephant. They were all growing off a drawing he’d done of the cats the year before. Coming out from the sleeve of the shirt he’d sketched a rough outline of Bella’s head.

He could hand the sketched to Pete when he got home later but right about then his stomach was starting to protest being ignored. He set the drawings aside and hurried downstairs.

Marshall was in the kitchen making a pot of coffee. It looked like he was working the late shift at work.

“Hey man,” Ian greeted, pulling open the fridge.

“Hey, how’re the cats.”

“Grouchy.” Ian held up an arm to display the scratch that Sierra had given him that morning. It wasn’t deep but it had stung like a bitch when she’d done it. The cats had both been edgy all day, probably because he’d stepped up the practice regimen over the past week.

Marshall made a face, “And that is why I stick with people.”

“I don’t know, Alex can do a number on people. I’ve seen Cash’s neck.”

Marshall chuckled as he poured a travel mug full of coffee, adding cream and sugar.

“So, did you and Alex finally figure out what music you’re using this summer?”

Marshall nodded, “Jon put together a Beatles song medley for us.”

Ian grinned a little, knowing Marshall couldn’t see as he pulled the makings of a sandwich out of the fridge. Alex and Jon had been trying to get Marshall to change his mind for weeks. He was about to ask what had finally changed his mind when Jon came into the kitchen, looking like he was running late, and okay, that was not exactly a rare occurrence in Jon’s life. Marshall pressed the top onto the travel mug and held it out.

Jon took is as he shrugged on his jacket.

“Thanks,” he said.

He looked like he was going to say something else but Marshall just nodded, “No problem.”

“Later, Ian,” he said, clapping him on the back, “Thanks again, Marsh.” Then he disappeared out the back door.

“What was that?” Ian asked after a moment of silence awkward on his end, relaxed on Marshall’s.

“What was what?”

Ian raised an eyebrow, glancing over at Marshall as he worked on his dinner.

“I was a dick about the music,” Marshall said wish a shrug, “Jon was running late. I’m not a complete asshole, you know.”

“Yeah, but you don’t like Jon.”

“Jon’s frustrating.” Marshall poured himself a cup of coffee, “I’ll get you the mix if you want to take a listen. I like what he did for your routine with the cats but he’s a pain in the ass most of the time.”

Ian nodded even though he didn’t necessarily agree; Marshall was just a little bit uptight, not used to the laid back way of the Chicagoland guys yet.

“We’re celebrating Brendon’s birthday when he gets home from work, are you in?” Marshall asked.

“Of course,” Ian said. Yeah, he definitely needed food if there was going to be a party later.

Sure enough, Brendon and Spencer came home from work less than an hour later with a couple of bags. Butcher set up shot glasses and Pete started mixing drinks. Ian settled onto the couch with a Jack and coke, more Jack than coke really, while the living room filled up as more and more people arrived home from work. The room was loud, music pounding loudly as they all mingled and celebrated. It was rare that nearly all of them were home at the same time and they all had a reason to be in the same room.

People kept passing Brendon drinks all night, as was tradition. Then, when he passed out on the couch before it was even eleven, Joe pulled out the markers, Spencer, Cash and Pete all quickly joining him in covering Brendon’s bare skin in a multitude of designs. Brendon knew it would happen, as it always did. Ian wondered if he’d find it as funny in the morning as he had when Ryan had to walk around with the words ‘Kiss me’ on his cheek for two days during the previous summer.

Ian was tired when he wandered up to his room later in the night. His arm was throbbing a little bit, because maybe being injured and drinking heavily were not a good combination. He dropped down onto his bed, packing up the drawings that had been laying there since he went to make dinner.

Parties tended to die down once the birthday boy was out for the night and the fun of drawing on them was over.

“Dude, you coming back downstairs?” Johnson stuck his head inside the door as he passed by.

Ian looked up from where he was rooting around in his bin of movies. “Nah, it’s late and Pete’s mixing the drinks a little strong. I’m just gonna watch a movie and pass out.”

“Cool, mind if I join you?”

Ian made an affirmative noise as he held out a movie for Johnson to put in the player.

“Empire Records, really?” Johnson asked.

“I’m on a Rory Cochrane kick,” Ian said with a shrug. He scooted over on the bed and watched Johnson as he started up the movie before collapsing back onto the bed next to him.

“So, I think the crown may have been the best idea ever,” Johnson said.

Ian let a grin pull at the corner of his lips. Cash had drawn a crown across Brendon’s forehead. It was a little bit amazing.

“Do you think it’s too late to add the word ‘dork’ to it?”

“Patrick was getting him up and to bed when I was coming up to my room.”

“Spoil sport,” Ian muttered darkly as the movie started up. “There’s no way I’m making it through this entire movie.”

“I’ll turn it off before I leave,” Johnson knocked his shoulder against Ian’s.

They were quiet for a few minutes as Lucas flirted with the chick and began his temptation with Atlantic City.

The alcohol still had him feeling a little fuzzy.

“Marshall finally agreed with Alex and Jon on the music.” Oh yeah, and it made his tongue a little loose.

“Yeah,” Johnson didn’t sound like he cared.

“About time.”

“Yeah,” Johnson snorted as Lucas lost the money. Seeing other people get screwed was always his favorite part.

They again lapsed into silence until Johnson’s favorite line came up just a moment later. He turned to Ian and quoted even more seriously than the screen.

“I do not regret the things I have done, but those I did not do.”

Usually Ian would burst out laughing at Johnson’s Winston Churchill impression but something was catching up with him. He didn’t even realize what he’d done until he had done it.

Ian leaned into the space between him and Johnson, a hand pressing to the side of his jaw as he leaned in and brushed their lips together. He pulled back for a second and licked his lips, leaning back in and sliding their lips together again. He thought he felt Johnson kissing back and slid his hand further back, tangling it in Johnson’s hair. Johnson’s hand pressed lightly to his chest, not hard enough to push him away as far as Ian could tell.

-
.

Mon, 01 Jun 2009 03:34:31 GMT

Title: I'll Find My Words When There's No One Talking
Author: Exmptfromsanity
Word Count: 15,329
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Ian/Johnson (and others)
Summary: This is what the off-season looks like for the Chicagoland circus. Ian's not quite sure what to do with this.
Disclaimer: Not mine, I can only wish.
Author's Note: I've been writing this sequel to 'I Lost My Place But I Can't Stop This Story' aka the circus!fic sinc eI posted the first one. Sorry, student teaching gets in the way of everything.

Ian thinks that investing in a house may have been the best idea that Patrick had ever had. Nearly all of them had contributed to it, and living there during the winter was hysterical. It was less than a mile from the circus’ grounds and gave them all a permanent address. This way, they could get actual jobs and practice on their days off.

Tonight a bunch of them were gathered around the living room, a couple of the typical Friday-night pizza’s laying in pieces on the coffee table.

Ian glanced over his shoulder. Alex was spread out across the couch, his head resting in Cash’s lap. Cash’s eyes were on the TV, but his fingers were carding through Alex’s curls, and Ian knew them well enough to know that Cash’s attention was really almost fully on Alex.

He’d liked Cash when they’d first met, sure, but it was that air Cash exuded. He pulled people in. It was physical attraction and flirting that never went away. But Ian wasn’t stupid, he’d seen that Cash could barely take his eyes off of Alex, couldn’t go a sentence without mentioning his name.

“Move your feet.”

Ian looked up, folding his legs to make room for Johnson on the couch he was stretched across. As the long-haired boy sat down at the other end of the couch Ian put his legs back down, laying them in Johnson’s lap.

If there was anyone less like Cash in their group, it was Johnson. He was monotone, and combative, and a little bit closed off. He had been from the beginning, but the four of them, Marshall and the other circus performers had lived on top of one another all summer.

He wasn’t afraid of Johnson and ignored the glare that was directed at him. Johnson didn’t push Ian’s feet out of his lap, so Ian counted it as a win.

He went back to watching the movie on TV, but his attention drifted back to watching Johnson, his fingers drumming on the arm of the couch. He was staring so hard that he spaced out, jumping a bit as Johnson spoke.

“Dude, cut that out. C’mon, can’t you guys go do that in your own room?”

Ian glanced over at Alex and Cash. The two of them had stretched out across the couch and Alex seemed to have his tongue halfway down Cash’s throat.

Alex pulled away long enough to say, “We were here first.”

Johnson growled a little bit. Patrick had made sure there were no pillows to throw after two broken lamps. Correction, two broken lamps caused by Johnson throwing them at Cash and Alex.

“I’ve got a TV in my room,” Ian said, shifting his feet a little in Johnson’s lap, getting his attention. “I picked up some new movies the other day too.”

“Yeah, okay,” Johnson agreed, though he didn’t sound particularly happy about it.

He shoved Ian’s feet out of his lap and got up, grabbing one of the last slices of pizza as the two of them made their way out of the living room.

“I hate it when they do that,” Johnson complained as he slouched down into Ian’s desk chair, reaching for the bin of movies.

Ian collapsed down onto the bed, content to let Johnson pick the movie. He had pretty good taste, and knew what Ian liked.

“I thought Marshall said they’d always been like that?”

“They have,” Johnson sighed, “But I mean, before they had their grand epiphany,” he waved his hands around to emphasize the words, “they weren’t so in-your-face about it.”

Ian watched Johnson closely as he dug through the collection of DVDs. He’d just always kind of assumed that Johnson was gay, not just because he was part of the circus, but because of the way he’d been with his friends since they’d first met. This was making him second guess his assumption.

“Does it bother you that much?” he asked, trying to sound nonchalant. “I mean, if you seriously said something-”

“Cash is my best friend; I want him to be happy,” Johnson said, “And they’re good for each other but I wish they’d chill sometimes.”

He made a triumphant sound and passed Ian Reservoir Dogs. Ian chuckled, pushing their discussion to the back of his mind as he put the movie in and made himself comfortable. Johnson put his feet up on the corner of Ian’s mattress, his toes pressing against Ian’s thigh. Ian was glad for the dark room where Johnson couldn’t see him blush.

A comfortable silence settled between them as the movie started, Johnson’s eyes intently focused on the screen. Ian couldn’t help but glance over at him every now and again, unsure of where Johnson was coming from.

Jon was the only one in the kitchen when Ian finally stumbled downstairs in the morning, looking for strong coffee. He almost cried in thanks when he saw the familiar jeans and t-shirt. Jon always made the best coffee.

“Please,” he sighed, “Tell me there is caffeine.”

Jon passed over a mug without a word.

Ian drank it black, sitting down at the kitchen table, and not saying a word until he was halfway done.

“Where is everyone?” Even then he still sounded groggy.

“Work,” Jon said, “Or sleeping. A few went down to the grounds I think. I have to go down later, look through some music for Patrick. You want me to drive you down to feed the cats?”

Ian yawned as he nodded, “Just let me get some more coffee into myself.”

“It’s my day off,” Jon reminded him, ruffling his hair, “I’m not in a rush.”

Another great thing about Jon was that, like his taste in coffee, he had amazing taste in music, and weed.

Today the music was older, and he only turned it up as they entered the practice grounds. He turned off the car and pulled a blunt out of the glove compartment.

Ian chuckled as he dug through the pockets of his coat for a lighter.

“Marshall’s going to flip shit if you bring that inside.”

Finally Jon managed to get it lit and took a long drag. He held it in front of him and looked at it contently before passing it over to Ian. Ian wasn’t about to turn down Jon’s stash. He took a long drag of his own.

“It’s fun to piss the little dude off,” Jon told him.

At that Ian had to laugh. Alex and Cash really knew how to get under Marshall’s skin, but he expected that considering how long they’d known one another. But somehow, over the past summer, Jon had gotten so good at pissing Marshall off that the other performers had been taking bets on when Marshall was finally going to snap and take a swing. He would get so red and flustered and glare in that way that was nearly as threatening as Alex… not very much.

“Yeah, it is,” Ian agreed, reaching out for the joint.

The two of them fishbowled the car and when they finally went inside they found Alex and Marshall just coming down from their routine, Cash watching with his jaw set until Alex was safely on the ground. Even Ian’s throat clenched a bit as he remembered Alex’s fall.

Marshall waved to them as they approached, making a face as they got closer.

“You reek of pot,” he said, eyes narrowed in Jon’s direction.

“Yeah, well,” Jon shrugged, indifferent.

“I’m going outside, meet you guys out there,” Marshall said before walking off.

Cash just kind of chuckled as they watched him walk off, “Man, he’s so pissed.”

Jon shrugged again, before heading off toward the closed-up sound booth.

Cash leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to Alex’s lips, “I’m gonna go see if Jon has any more. Be back in a minute.”

Alex rolled his eyes but grinned after Cash as he ran off.

“You two are such dorks,” Ian said.

“You’re high, what do you know,” Alex replied, with no venom in his voice.

He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his warm up pants and sat down on one of the footstools.

“How goes practice?” He asked Alex, glancing up at the swings.

“Good,” Alex nodded. “Cash is a freak.”

Ian laughed, “Well, you did fall like 50 feet last summer.”

“Yeah, I was there, thanks.”

Ian made a face at Alex, knocking his knee against Alex’s thigh. “That took skill.”

“Your face takes skill.”

Ian raised an eyebrow, “You’ve got to start spending more time with people who aren’t Cash.”

Alex shrugged; it was probably true.

“So hey,” Ian said, trying to broach the topic from an angle, “About you and Cash. Man, you know I don’t have a problem with the PDA or anything but Johnson, he seemed kind of pissed last night.”

Alex shrugged, “So?”

“Well, maybe there’s a reason he’s getting annoyed with it now. I mean, don’t you think-”

“He was fine with it all summer, Ian.” Alex raised an eyebrow, giving him a look.

This was not going well. “Yeah, but it couldn’t hurt for you guys to tone it down a little, huh?”

“Back off,” Alex said, standing and heading off before Ian could say anything else in his defense.

Great, so now Alex thought he was back to crushing on Cash.

Ian made an aggravated noise in the back of his throat before pushing himself back onto his feet and following Cash and Jon’s path to the sound booth. The refrigerators were right behind it, and the cats needed to eat. Tokyo was grouchy when she was hungry, and stitches would just put the cap on this morning.

Cash stuck his head out of the sound booth as Ian passed, “Where’s Alex?”

“Your wife is PMSing,” Ian told him, not even bothering to stop. He dug his steaks out of the freezer before sliding the padlock back out into place and stepping out of the tent. He tossed food into both of the cat’s cages. They would take their time with their meals, as Ian had noticed in his life all women did, so it would be a while before he could let them out of their cages. He reached through the bars of the lion cage and scratched Sierra’s haunches as she began tearing her breakfast apart.

Once it was clear that she was going to ignore him until she was finished eating he struck off in the direction of Bella’s paddock. She was outside just roaming but began retreating back toward her stable as Ian drew nearer.

“Get downwind of her, you moron.” Johnson’s voice echoed from over toward one of the fence posts, “You smell like predators and blood.” He sounded like Ian’s father, chastising him for teasing one of his younger sisters. It was probably appropriate, considering Bella was Johnson’s baby.

“Sorry,” Ian veered of course, taking the long way to get to where Johnson was sitting. He collapsed onto the ground. “You’d think she’d be used to it by now.”

“Instincts aren’t easy to overcome. Even though she was raised in captivity she’ll still bolt.”

Ian wasn’t sure if bolt was the right word to describe Bella running away from something. Lumbering, maybe, but bolt was a word he might reserve for the cats.

They sat quietly as Bella grazed, slowly making her way back toward them. It was obvious she was tentative about getting too close.

“It’s okay, baby, Ian’s not going to hurt you,” Johnson called out. There was something different in his voice when he talked to Bella. While his tone was mostly flat with everyone else there was some light inflection when he talked to Bella. It was soothing.

She came a bit closer but not close enough for Ian to touch. He was fine just watching her. Before the circuses had come together Ian had never been this close to an elephant, and as Patrick had said many times, Bella was a beautiful animal.

Ian dozed for a while as Bella grazed and Johnson kept an eye on her. It was cool outside but the sun was out and the high hadn’t quite worn off yet. Johnson ignored him and talked to Bella as she moved. Finally he pushed himself up off of the ground. He needed to go see the cats.

Tokyo was up against the bars, reaching out with a paw to swat at him as he approached her. Without even hesitating he reached into the cage to scratch behind her ears. She purred and pressed herself up against the bars to get more attention.

Ian opened the door to her cage and let her out before reaching for the lock on Sierra’s cage. Both of them began running around the enclosure, happy to be out of their cages. Ian just sat on the steps to Sierra’s cage as he watched them, remembering when they were kittens and he didn’t have to worry about them hurting one another. Now they were bigger, and while they were still playing together Ian couldn’t really get in the middle of them as much as when they were younger. He had to sit off to the side, giving only a few commands or yelling when they got too rough.

Sierra came over and put her head in his lap requesting attention while Tokyo put her front paws up on the fence as people came closer.

“We’re going to leave in a little bit,” Jon said. “Hey kitty.” He let Tokyo sniff his hands before scratching her as Ian had earlier.

“Okay, just let me get them back in.” Ian snapped his fingers to get Tokyo’s attention but the cat was enjoying Jon’s attention too much. He sent Sierra back into her bed before reaching for Tokyo’s collar and giving it a tug. The grunt that the cat let out was almost comical. Ian laughed as he got her back into the cage and climbed over the fence to join Jon and Johnson. Jon chuckled right along with him and Johnson just shook his head, offering to drive.

Okay, maybe Ian was still a little bit high.

“Cash.” Ian dropped onto the couch next to Cash as he watched Top Chef. It was during a commercial so it was safe to talk without the threat of being swatted, or stabbed with something, because really, clowns hid all kinds of things in their pockets and sometimes Ian wasn’t so sure about Cash.

“Yeah,” Cash didn’t take his eyes off of the television screen.

“Alex thinks I’ve got a thing for you again. I need you to set him straight.”

At that Cash turned his head quickly to look at Ian, an annoying smirk pulling across his features. “And why does he think that?”

Really, the smirk made Ian want to kick him.

“Johnson was pissed at you guys last night.”

“Yeah, so?”

“So I told Alex that maybe you guys should tone it down with the PDA in the house, you know, seeing as you can do that stuff in your own room-”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Cash interrupted.

“And since Johnson didn’t really say much about it over the summer, probably because the two of you were going at it like bunnies in Alex and Marshall’s trailer most of the time, I figured you guys might show some common courtesy and knock it off.”

“And you’re coming to Johnson’s defense why?” Cash looked amused.

Ian shrugged, “Because he’s my friend and he probably won’t do much more than yell at you when you’re being annoying, which we all know doesn’t work.”

Cash threw an arm back around Ian’s shoulder. “Love you too, Ian.” He pressed a wet, sloppy kiss to Ian’s cheek.

Ian shoved him away, wiping at his cheek as Cash’s show came back on and his attention once again went back to the TV. Cash hadn’t said anything on either topic specifically but the grin and nod he gave Ian as he stood up to leave was as close to a promise as Cash gave.

Alex didn’t like to watch Top Chef with Cash, which really, was a tragedy. It was something about Cash yelling at the TV or something stupid like that, and hey, it wasn’t like Alex didn’t fucking crow at the TV during American Idol. But really, it was depressing because Cash was going to be an excellent cook one of these days and Alex would have these cooking shows to thank, just as soon as Cash grew out of his lazy, take-out food phase.

Once the show ended he headed upstairs to his room, well, his and Alex’s room. They hadn’t bothered with the possibility of living separately. It would have been just like during tour when they visited one another’s trailers.

“Alex,” he called as he stepped into their bedroom. A gurgled response came from the bathroom.

Cash stopped in the doorway where he found Alex brushing his teeth. He was dressed in nothing but a pair of boxers and one of Cash’s old baseball t-shirts from high school. Cash smiled; he was lucky.

He took a few steps across the room and slid both of his arms around Alex’s waist, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck.

“I love you.”

Alex locked eyes with Cash in the mirror, giving a little nod that clearly said ‘you too’ as he scrubbed at his teeth. Cash stepped closer, pressing himself fully to Alex’s back and bringing his hands back to rub over Alex’s hips, trying to get across what he wanted. Alex rolled his eyes and elbowed Cash in the ribs to get him to back off.

It was cute, how he pretended to be all annoyed with Cash’s antics. Ten minutes from now he’d crawl into bed and cuddle right up next to Cash.

Cash retreated to the doorway, where he paused for a moment, “Hey.”

Alex looked up again and locked eyes with him in the mirror. Cash was smirking.

“Ian’s got a crush on Johnson.”

Cash was pleased that as he disappeared from sight it was to the sound of Alex choking on his toothpaste.

Ian had a job at a clothing store while they were off from the circus. Technically it was Pete’s clothing store, owned by Pete’s clothing line, and Ian had technically become more of a designer. The first winter he had done this work he’d wondered how Pete wasted his time on the circus when he was so successful here. Then it had turned into wondering if Patrick was really the owner or if it was just a cover Pete let him have.

It made sense; Patrick liked to be in control even if he was wrapped around Pete’s little finger.

As he sat behind the store counter, doodling on a sketchpad and keeping an eye on the customers William and Johnson came in, looking bored.

“You don’t have a shift today,” Ian said to William, hardly looking up from his drawing.

“Looking for Gabe,” William explained, smiling brightly.

Ian rolled his eyes, “Upstairs. I think he and Pete are working on staging ideas and possibly a few t-shirt designs.”

Pete tended to get sidetracked with circus stuff.

“Gracias, my little friend.” William ruffled Ian’s curls before ducking behind the counter and up the stairs.

Ian rolled his eyes. Despite all the time spent with Gabe, William’s Spanish was atrocious. He couldn’t pull off the accent.

“What are you doing here?” he asked Johnson, who was looking through the sweatshirts on the racks closest to the counter.

“I need to replace some clothes.” Johnson said with a shrug, “And I wanted to go somewhere that doesn’t smell like pizza, or contain a Cash and Alex who can’t seem to keep their hands to themselves.”

Ian shook his head, “I tried to talk to them about that.”

Johnson stopped browsing and turned to him, “Why?”

“Because you seemed pretty upset about it the other night. It’s cool if no one cares but if it’s bugging someone they should be keeping it more private.”

“Dude, I don’t care that much. Just kind of jealous, you know, with them flaunting it when I don’t have someone like that.”

Ian stared, the lack of inflection in Johnson’s voice driving him crazy. Was that supposed to get a reaction out of him or was it a general comment?

“What’re you working on?” Johnson spoke again before he had the chance. He tugged at the sketchbook in Ian’s hands, looking down at the work. It was a logo Ian had been playing with since he’d gotten in that morning.“Umm… a new Chicagoland logo.”

It spelled out the word, decorated lavishly. Seriously, something that Ryan Ross would stitch onto his clothing.

Ian didn’t realize he’d said that last part out loud until Johnson laughed, loud and clear. “Man, I’m totally telling him you said that.”

Ian grinned; the old divisions had melted away over the summer. Telling Ryan would ensure laughs from Spencer and Brendon in the very least.

“This is really cool,” he continued, “Have you shown Pete or Patrick? They were talking about wanting to revamp some design stuff this summer. They’d think this was cool.”

Ian scratched his hand up the back of his neck. “I don’t know. Not yet, I wasn’t really thinking about it.”

“Dude,” Johnson rolled his eyes, “Don’t be a pussy.”

Ian shrugged. He really hadn’t thought about it. He was doodling. He’d never handed anything off to Pete before for so much as a t-shirt design unless Pete had specifically asked him to draw something.

“What’s this?” Johnson pulled a folded piece of paper from between a few of the pages, unfolding it.

Ian shrugged. He’d been thinking about adding a third cat to his show for a while and had been playing with the idea. Clearly his trailer would need a new paint job. In his picture he had included a small baby leopard.

“You’re getting another cat?”

“I want to,” Ian smiled. “A leopard or jaguar. They’re hard to get though. I was talking to my uncle about them a few weeks ago. He said they are harder to train but I don’t think anything could be any worse than Tokyo was.”

Johnson laughed, “But she’s such a sweetheart now.”

“I can’t even tell you how many times I had to get stitches when she was a kitten. I think the doctor thought I was getting into knife fights.”

“Clearly, because you just look like a troublemaker.”

“Clearly,” Ian smiled, looking up as he heard two sets of feet coming down the stairs.

Gabe emerged, with William on his heels, both of them laughing over something.

“I have come to relive you, little dude,” Gabe announced, “And send you upstairs to entertain Pete because your jew-fro is apparently more realistic than mine.”

“Right.” Ian chuckled, pushing his curls back out of his face.

“I’m showing Pete your drawing,” Johnson announced, grabbing the drawing pad off the counter and darting past Ian to take off up the stairs.

Ian’s eyes went wide and he struggled to get past Gabe and William who were both blocking him a little bit to give Johnson a head start.

By the time he got upstairs Pete and Johnson were both bent over Pete’s desk. Ian stopped in front of them and swallowed hard as Pete looked up and smirked.

“I’m showing this to Patrick,” he sing-songed in a teasing voice, as though he knew how nervous it was making Ian.

“Dick,” Ian muttered at both of them.

They just laughed harder.

The circus started touring in mid-May, once it was warm enough to sleep outside if they needed. Thus, in March they started talking budget and new acts. So there it was, first Monday of March and they were, all seventeen of them, gathered around the living room, Patrick and Pete in the middle of it all.

“Okay,” Patrick was sitting in one of the kitchen chairs, dragged in from the other room. He smacked Pete, who was trying to explain something to Cash, involving wild hand gestures.

“So, we’re factoring in the repairs we talked about in the fall when we closed up shop. I really want to get the uniforms, costumes, whatever you want to call them to match this year, rather than sticking with the two different circuses. Umm… Pete gave me this,” he held up Ian’s drawing. “Most of you have seen it by now. I was thinking gold and red?”

Ian nodded when Patrick chanced a glance at him.

“Any objections?” Patrick asked, kicking out before Pete could say a word. It was all a very well choreographed dance at this point.

“I like it,” Ryan said, leaning closer to look at Ian’s design.

Spencer snorted and Brendon coughed into his hand as Ryan took a closer look at the design, which would now undoubtedly make an appearance in the new wardrobe.

“Okay,” Patrick continued, “So, this year we have Joe and Andy are doing the low rope routine and the unicycle tricks. We have William and Gabe doing tumbling and are you sure you guys want to try that new thing with the ropes? You’re getting kind of old for new tumbling adventures.”

“Screw you,” William mumbled, tossing a flip flop in his direction.

“Whatever you say, Princess,” Gabe agreed, “We’ll see how it goes.”

Patrick just shook his head, “Okay.” The headache was clearly starting already. “Sisky and Butcher, the high wire. I want to see that new routine before you get it up in the air. Alex and Marshall are on the trapeze, same for you. And I want to see it low before you go to full height. Johnson has Bella and Ian has Tokyo and Sierra. Good.”

He looked at his list for a minute, “Pete, Cash and Brendon are our clowns. Spencer is stage-managing, Ryan is on makeup and wardrobe, and Jon on music. I have everyone?”

“And the loveable Patrick V. Stump will be our ringleader,” Pete announced.

Patrick rolled his eyes, “Yes, Pete. Okay, I want to see where you guys all stand on your planning. We need to figure out how we’re going to set the show up soon. I’m going to be down on the grounds every day starting next week. I want to see practice, not the bullshit some of you pulled last spring.” He shot Pete a look.

Everyone broke off into groups to talk about what they had planned. Ian didn’t really have anything to work on so he leaned back against the couch. Johnson was in the same boat but he was sitting with Spencer and Ryan, seemingly involved in a conversation with them.

“I really like this.” Patrick startled Ian out of his staring.

“Huh?” Ian asked.

“The logo,” Patrick said, sitting down on the floor next to him. “And see, you wouldn’t have
showed it to anyone without Johnson’s help. Why is that?”

Ian shrugged, “It’s not that good.”

“I’d swat you but your hair provides too much padding,” Patrick said. “Your stuff is good. I want to see more of it.” He stared at Ian.

“Okay,” Ian relented.

“Now, I hear you’re thinking about getting another cat.”

Ian shook his head. It had been more than a week since he had told Johnson about his plan. He’d done the math a couple dozen different ways.

“I can’t afford it right now,” he told Patrick, “I can afford to buy one or pay the vet bills, but I didn’t save enough to do both.”

“That sucks,” Patrick said. “Maybe I can look into getting some money from the overall funds.”

Ian shook his head. “The cats are my responsibility. I’ll keep putting away for next year.”

Patrick looked at him for a moment. “Okay, kid.” He patted Ian on the back and pushed himself up off the floor. “Okay, Alex and Marshall, no drops this year. What have you guys worked out with Jon for music?”

I Lost My Place But I Can't Stop This Story (Part 2)

Thu, 20 Nov 2008 21:03:17 GMT

When he woke up, Johnson was bent over him, shaking his shoulder lightly. There was light coming in from the doorway, and Alex’s head felt like it was splitting in two. He groaned, pressing his face against his arm.

“Dude, you had way too much to drink last night.”

“Fuck off.” Alex groaned.

“No can do. Cash showed up looking for you last night and I told him that I’d send you around if I found you.”

The scene from the night before came crashing back down on him and a pained gasp passed his lips. He winced away from Johnson’s touch.

“Alex, are you okay?”

Alex pushed himself up off of the floor. “I’ve got to change and get to practice.” He shuffled past Johnson, trying to ignore the splitting pain and hurrying back toward his trailer.

Three hours, two bottles of water and several Advil later, he was ready for practice with Marshall, who was much less hung over than he was. They went through the routine smoothly, without Marshall bringing up anything from the night before.

“Okay guys, that’s good for today. Great work!” Patrick called up to them. “Get some rest.”

“Not bad, man,” Marshall said before he released Alex and, after a few slower swings, dropped himself back down to the ground.

Alex grabbed his swing and glanced down to find Cash waiting for him. Johnson. That asshole. Instead of dropping after Marshall, Alex swung himself around the swing, starting the same warm-up routine he usually worked through before his routine.

Cash was quiet for a few minutes. It surprised Alex that he was able to hold out for so long. Finally he sighed. “Are you ever going to come down here so I can talk to you?”

Alex stopped hanging upside down by his knees. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Alex, c’mon, you ran away last night. You’ve got to let me explain.”

“Explain what?” Alex growled. He was annoyed, and he finally did drop himself down, landing nimbly on his feet and almost smirking as Cash cringed. “You fucked Ian, so what?”

“Alex…”

“You said things weren’t going to change.”

“They won’t.”

“Fuck you!” Alex shoved Cash hard enough to knock him to the ground before stalking out of the tent. He needed a shower, and a nap. Cash didn’t follow.

It was almost dark when he let himself out the door of his trailer again. His stomach was grumbling, and he was hoping to maybe hold down some of the pizza that Jon had promised to make for dinner.

He’d only taken a few steps when he heard a voice behind him.

“Hey.”

He turned to find Ian pushing off from the side of the trailer. He didn’t say anything in return but also didn’t turn to start walking again.

“Can I talk to you?” Ian asked.

Alex nodded dumbly. “I’m sorry for interrupting last night.”

“No, I- you weren’t,” Ian stammered out.

“Umm… I’m pretty sure I was,” Alex replied, unable to keep an edge of bitterness from creeping into his voice. He may not have slept around as much as Cash, but he was pretty sure that he knew what two guys looked like in the middle of sex.

“Alex, we were drunk.”

“Listen, I’m mad at Cash, not you, and I really can’t explain to you why. You two, I have no problem with it.”

Ian looked at him incredulously for a moment before he let out a laugh. “Oh my God, you’re both absolute idiots.”

“Excuse me?”

“We wouldn’t have slept together if we weren’t both absolutely plastered. Jesus, Alex, you’re all he’s talked about all week. Everything we talked about I heard a story ‘one time Alex and I’ or ‘Alex would love this.’ Everything. I know you said there was nothing going on between the two of you but obviously if Cash is talking about you like that and you’re this upset with him, well, obviously there’s something there.”

Alex shook his head. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Ian shrugged, “Okay. I just wanted you to know, there’s nothing going on with me and Cash. And that he’s really freaked out.”

Alex just nodded his head. “I’m heading down to get some pizza. You coming?”

And that was the end of it. He and Ian walked down silently, and once they reached the crowd, Ian grabbed a seat on the bench next to Johnson, leaving the seat across from Cash open. Alex set his jaw, grabbing a slice of pizza and sitting down at the other table, next to Ryan, instead.

He was asleep before Marshall got back to the trailer that night, but the next morning when he woke up and rolled over, he looked up from his bed to see his partner, arms crossed over his chest, glaring at him.

“We have to talk.”

Alex sighed. It was early, and their show was in a few hours. He didn’t want to start their summer off with Marshall angry at him; he tended to leave bruises on Alex’s wrists when he was angry.

“I don’t want to talk about Cash,” he grumbled, draping an arm over his eyes.

“I don’t care.” Marshall sat down heavily on Alex’s bed, pushing his arm away. “Do you remember two years ago when we came to get you?”

Alex nodded.

“So you remember how you told us to go without you?”

“No, I didn’t.”

Marshall laughed aloud. “Dude, you totally did. Even though you knew that you and me are a package deal, you told us that you couldn’t do it. You told us you had to go to college and that you weren’t a good enough performer anyway. And man, you wouldn’t listen to a word I said.”
And okay, maybe now it was starting to come back to him.

“So?” he asked, voice small and hoarse.

“So, when I stormed out, you talked to Cash. He told you that you were smart enough to make it if you went to college and, fuck, smart enough to make it if you didn’t. He told you that you were more than good enough to perform and that he wanted you to come with us. He said we weren’t going without you, and he got you to change your mind. He’s the reason you came with us.”

“He’s not the only reason.”

Marshall stared at him hard. “Look, I don’t care that you didn’t believe me, okay? But you’ve got to pull your head out of your ass and realize exactly why it is that you care so much that Cash slept with Ian. He needs to realize it too, I mean, he thought you were flirting with Sisky, and really, he’s even worse than you are, always sneaking over here to crash with you.”

Alex sat up quickly. “It’s not like that. Cash and I aren’t together like that!”

Marshall leveled him with a glare. “You and Cash have been together like that since the summer we were seventeen whether you realize it or not. Maybe without the label, but you’ve totally belonged to each other for three years now.”

Alex glared back at him, not saying a word or giving him another inch.

Finally Marshall just sighed and stood up, kissing Alex on the forehead. “Just think about it, okay? I’ll see you down at the tent for the show.”

Alex watched Marshall leave the trailer before pulling his knees up to his chest and leaning his head down on them. Fuck.

It was one thing to be pissed at Cash for letting things change when this new circus came in, but it was another to realize that everyone around him knew that he was in love with his best friend when even he hadn’t realized it.

If it had been a practice day, he would have locked the door to his trailer, but it wasn’t. It was a performance day – opening day - and he couldn’t afford to sit and wallow in self-pity. He took the longest shower he could before getting ready.

Ryan stared at him hard when he collapsed down into his chair. Alex knew he looked horrible, his hair still wet and a mess, his face that mix of exhaustion and stress.

“How do you want your makeup?” Ryan asked after a moment.

“Dark,” he whispered.

Ryan pushed his hair back out of his eyes, looking closely at Alex.

“Don’t,” Alex said tensely. “Just don’t.”

“Okay,” Ryan agreed, picking up a stick of eyeliner and reaching for Alex’s chin to hold his face still.

The difference for the performance was an extra thirty feet. Rather than using a mounting block with a little bit of leverage, Alex and Marshall climbed up ladders to reach their swings. They were anywhere from fifty to seventy feet off the ground during their performance. Alex had always loved the thrill of the extra height, and even today, he was shaking a little bit with anticipation.

There was a rhythm to the show, starting off with Johnson and Bella. It was like a dance with the two rings going simultaneously, the clowns traveling back and forth, the pairs breaking off to do their things. Alex and Marshall went on early.

Alex rolled his neck, stretching the muscles as they waited to go on, Marshall next to him doing the same. They didn’t speak: they didn’t usually before they went on, but there was definitely an added tension there today.

Spencer motioned to them and they started out into the ring. “Good show,” he muttered to both of them, his attention already back on the floor. They went out and bowed to the crowd before they started up their individual ladders.

Alex glanced over at where the clowns were proceeding along the outside of the ring, Cash and Pete leading them on a set of unicycles. Ian was holding court in the other ring with his two cats, gaining gasps from the crowd.

He turned back to the ladder and started climbing. What Marshall had said about Cash that morning was true, and he couldn’t help but think back upon it.

He’d freaked out when Cash and Marshall had asked him to go with them, had given him the choice, and Marshall had been mad at him for hesitating. He’d stormed out of Alex’s room, out of the house.

Cash had said everything that Marshall had told him that morning, but Marshall didn’t seem to know that the two of them had been curled up on Alex’s bed while he said it.

“What if this doesn’t work, Cash?” he’d asked.

Cash had taken a moment and thought about it, before looking hard at Alex. “Then you’ll still have me and it’ll all be okay,” he’d promised. Then, without a word, he’d leaned down and pressed his lips gently to Alex’s.

And Alex had kissed back.

It had only lasted a moment, but when Cash had pulled back, all Alex had replied with was a breathless “okay.” A few hours later, the three of them were on the road.

They’d never talked about it.

As Alex reached the platform, he took hold of his swing and took a deep breath. He looked out into the empty space and, after a moment, pushed off. He swung through the air, pulling a few solo tricks that were ingrained in his memory. The breeze, the sound of his heart thudding in his ears, were all calmingly familiar.

And then came the part where he let go. As he swung forward he half-heard the shout, but it was too late: his hands let go of his bar and he was out in open air just like they’d practiced.

But Marshall didn’t catch him.

He’d find out later that their timing had been off, barely by a second. But that was more than enough. His fingers and Marshall’s had brushed, and he’d seen the wide eyes and face as he started to fall.

It had been years since one of them had been dropped, and every single time it had been at practice. Alex had never fallen from the full height of a performance swing, and fear squeezed in around him. But there wasn’t even time for a scream to rip itself from his throat before he was hitting the safety net. It was there for this situation, but he still hit it hard, and his breath rushed from his lungs, pain shooting from the points of impact.

He couldn’t make himself move.

“Alex! Fuck, Alex!” The net shifted as Cash tugged himself up over the edge of it and reached out, grabbing hold of Alex’s arms. Alex reached out in response, fisting his hands in Cash’s shirt. He was still shaking, gasping for breath, and trying to process what had just happened.

“Fuck Alex, c’mon, say something!” Cash hissed.

He tightened his grip a little bit more and finally managed to get his windpipe to open back up. “Cash,” he gasped, his voice wavering.

And then Brendon was there, gasping and looking about as terrified as Alex felt. “Are you okay?”

Alex just shook his head, not trusting his voice to string more than one word out.

“C’mon, let’s get him offstage and let Pete have a look at him,” Brendon said to Cash. They were efficient if nothing else, with plans for falls in injuries during shows.

Instead of pulling Alex off of the net and setting him on his feet, Cash just picked him up, carrying him out the nearest entrance. Alex would have been indignant and squirmed under any other situation, but he couldn’t seem to get his body to stop shaking. He just pressed his face tight against Cash’s neck.

“Alright, just put him down her.” Pete’s voice cut through the haze.

Cash set him down on Pete’s stretcher and moved to step back, but Alex kept his grip on Cash’s shirt tight.

“Okay,” Cash said quickly. He got it. He sat down with Alex and looked over at Pete. “Can you-”

“I’ll work around you, don’t worry.” Pete put his hand on the top of Alex’s head, checking his pupils and running a comforting hand through Alex’s hair at the same time.

“Hey kid, you’re doing great. You hurt anywhere in particular?”

“My shoulder,” Alex said, though it was muffled against Cash’s chest.

“It looks like that was where you landed most of your weight,” Pete said. Alex had never heard him speak seriously before. His tone was oddly soothing. “It’s probably gonna be tender for a few days, you might have some bruising.”

He lifted Alex’s shirt and Alex let out a whine. Cash held on to his arm more tightly.

“Alex, I’m going to look at your shoulder a little bit, make sure you didn’t mess it up too badly. It’s probably going to be kind of uncomfortable.”

Alex nodded.

As Pete finished his examination, poking and prodding at Alex’s shoulder he spoke to Cash.
“I’ve never seen you run so fast.”

“He fell, Pete. He’s my best friend and he fell from fucking fifty feet in the air.”

“He’s okay.”

It was then that Marshall finally arrived, finally got out of the tent. There were tears streaming down his cheeks as he grabbed Alex’s arm.

“You were early. You were early, and fuck, Alex, I tried to catch you.”

“I know.” Alex hissed as Pete’s thumbs pressed into his shoulder. “I was early, it was me. I’m… I think I’m okay.”

“He’s okay,” Pete affirmed. “Get him out of here, away from the tent. The guys can do their old routine.”

Cash started to step back, ready to let Marshall take over but Alex groped for his hand again. He held on tight and looked at Marshall, nodding, “I’m okay.”

Marshall looked him up and down, as if he didn’t believe him, before nodding. He turned his head, giving Cash a look before turning and heading back toward the tent.

Cash leaned on the cot in front of Alex. “Can you walk?”

“I think so.”

“Where do you want to go?”

“Whichever trailer’s closest,” Alex said. He was pretty sure he could walk, but not so sure how far.

Cash stepped back, his grip forcing Alex to slide down off of the table. He walked slowly and couldn’t help but realize he was still a little unsteady, leaning on Cash much more than he usually would have. Cash kept hold of his arm, his other arm sliding around Alex’s waist. He was gripping Alex hard, probably harder than he realized.

When they made it to Cash and Johnson’s trailer, Alex dropped down lightly onto Cash’s bed without a word, rolling up onto the side of his body that wasn’t still throbbing.

“Christ, Alex.” Cash’s voice came out raspy as the bed sank under his added weight.

Alex opened his eyes to find Cash looking very close to falling apart in front of him. “You fucking fell. You don’t… you never fall.”

Alex stared back for a moment. Cash was scared of heights as it was but he was never going to be able to watch him and Marshall do their routine again. He wanted to say something comforting, something to prove to Cash that he was okay.

“You slept with Ian,” was what spilled out.

Cash stiffened, his jaw setting and he moved to stand up.

“No,” Alex moved quickly, grabbing hold of his arm. The quick movement made his muscles scream in protest, and he winced, tightening his grip on Cash.

“You’re fucking lucky you’re hurt,” Cash told him. He’d noticed the pained look and didn’t try to get away again.

“That wasn’t what I meant,” Alex insisted.

“Then what did you mean?”

“You said no matter what changed, it would be okay, because I had you,” Alex said, and it sounded cheesy and lame and pathetic and to be honest, he kind of wanted to hide as soon as he said it.

Cash was just staring at him. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Yeah, well this week didn’t feel like it,” Alex said. He knew he sounded bitter. “And I think…” He sighed. Maybe he’d hit his head: he couldn’t seem to get his thoughts straight.

“Alex?” Cash asked tentatively after a moment.

Alex pulled Cash closer by the front of his shirt and kissed him. He didn’t know another way to get his point across. Cash gasped but didn’t pull back. Instead, he kissed back harder than Alex was expecting, rolling him onto his back and biting at his lower lip. Alex’s shoulder was shooting off sparks of pain, but he didn’t care, because he suddenly felt so much better than he had for the entire week.

Cash pulled back with an audible pop. “You’re an idiot,” he breathed. “I hope you know that. Six years, Jesus.”

Alex didn’t say anything in response, just pulled Cash back down as tightly as possible, because fitting them together was warm and familiar. And when, after a moment, Cash started to grind down against his hip, Alex thought nothing had ever felt that right. He let out a groan, pushing his own hips up to meet Cash’s.

Cash pushed harder, and as they worked out a rhythm of give and take, Alex wasn’t surprised to feel his erection pressing against the seam of his pants.

His breath hitched in his throat when he realized Cash was even harder than he was.

“Cash.” He rasped out the name, not sure what, exactly, he was asking for.

Cash seemed to know, though. One of his hands came down to grip Alex’s hip, and he started rocking harder against Alex. His leg pressed harder, and stars began shooting off harder behind Alex’s eyelids. He gripped Cash’s shoulders hard, the pain in his own back all but forgotten. “Come on, Alex,” Cash hissed, pressing his lips to Alex’s neck, teeth scraping and raising a bruise.

Alex let out a long breath, turning it into a cry as his body betrayed him. He arched up against Cash as he came.

Cash continued to roll his hips as Alex fell back to the bed, stiffening a moment later, and breathing hard as he rolled off of Alex.

“Gross,” Alex commented, still taking deep, gulping breaths.

Cash laughed, shaking his head and walking across the small space, stripping off his dirty clothes and pulling on a pair of boxers. He threw another pair at Alex, who was already stripping off his own shirt.

“Yeah, well, we’ll just have to do it properly next time.”

“Yeah,” Alex said as Cash climbed onto the bed next to him. “Yeah, okay.”

-
They’d been laying there for a good half hour when there was a knock on the door and before they could move much to cover themselves, Patrick stepped up the few stairs, arms crossed over his chest.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Sore,” Alex said. “That’s all.”

“Did you two figure everything out then? Fix this mess that’s been throwing you both off all week?”

“Yeah,” Cash said, “We did.”

“Good, because if shit like that ever happens again, I’m going to fire both of you on the spot. Got it?”

They both nodded.

Patrick just nodded to them. He was starting to remind Alex of Spencer: bossy and serious, but a big softie underneath.

He paused then, as he was stepping back to head out the door. “Your trailer smells like jizz.”

Alex’s eyes went wide and he was sure he was turning bright red as Cash just laughed. Patrick disappeared, closing the door behind him, and Alex rolled over, hitting Cash as hard as he could.

“Cash!” he squeaked.

Cash just shook his head. “Shut up,” he said, leaning down and cutting off Alex’s future protests with a kiss.

And okay, Alex didn’t really want to protest that at all.

I Lost My Place But I Can't Stop This Story (Part 1)

Thu, 20 Nov 2008 20:57:14 GMT

Title: I Lost My Place But I Can't Stop This Story
Author: exmptfromsanity
Rating: PG-13/ borderline R just to be safe.
Pairing: Cash/Singer
Summary: Alex and Cash have been part of the circus together since they were fourteen years old. The problem is, eventually things change. Alex isn't so sure that he can handle this.
Disclaimer: Title and cut belong to Jack's Mannequin. I don't own the characters in this story and this probably didn't happen, though I'm pretty sure if Johnson did have an elephant he would use it to terrorize Cash...
Authors Note: Circus Cab!fic. It's AU so there's no real excuse to call him Singer...thus Alex. Huge thanks to my betas xcarex</lj> , addandsubtract</lj> , and lucentvictrola</lj> .

Alex chalked up his hands, staring up at the bar as he rubbed them together. It was quiet, still far too early for most of the gang to be awake. He climbed onto the mounting block and launched himself up to grab the trapeze bar, sending it swinging back and forth on its ropes.

His muscles stretched and screamed with protest but he kept going. Slowly, they loosened as he moved, flipping himself around the bar. He rotated, gripping the bar with his hands, and switched to wrap his knees around the ropes.

The routine was branded into his brain. He did as many of the tricks as he could without Marshall. He lost himself in the routine and didn’t realize how much time had passed until a sleepy voice called up from the floor.

“If you fall, I am so not going to catch you.”

Alex swung around and let go of the bar, catching his knees around it as he dropped to hang upside down, letting the swinging bar slow down as he stared down at Cash.

“Christ, can you not?” Cash called up. He hated heights, which Alex knew. Seeing Alex swinging up there, especially without Marshall waiting to catch him, made Cash squirm.

“What?” Alex teased, letting a wide grin cover his face.

Cash frowned up at him. “How many times have you gotten told off for being up there with no one else around, huh? Come down before you fall.”

Alex grabbed onto the bar with his hands, rolling back and dropping himself nimbly to the ground in front of Cash. “Morning,” he said, dropping onto a hay bale.

Cash held out a cup of bad, circus coffee, which Alex gladly accepted. “What are you doing up so early?” Cash finally asked, after a long silence had stretched between them. It hadn’t been uncomfortable; they’d known each other too long for that.

Alex shrugged. “I woke up, couldn’t fall back asleep.”

“You could have come and woken me up.”

“And incurred Johnson’s wrath? I’ll pass, thanks.”

Cash snorted. “Remember when we all used to share a trailer during the summer?”

“We were fourteen.” Alex laughed. “Marshall was like four feet tall. And I was still scared of Johnson back then. I mean, he got Bella to pick you up with her trunk and carry you around the tent for half an hour because you short-sheeted his bunk.”

Cash snorted into his coffee. “Worth it.”

“Yeah, well, back then that was like a million feet off the ground for you.”

“Shut up.” He shoved Alex. “What’s really going on?”

“You think it’s going to be different?” Alex asked.

The thing is, the two of them had been going to circus camp together since they were fourteen. Every summer Cash and Alex and Marshall met up in the little town outside of Vegas to train for a week and then go on a tour through the rest of the summer. The weekends and school vacations they spent together in between weren’t enough. They’d grown up together, gone through everything together, and they were good at what they did.

Marshall and Alex had been thrown together the very first week of camp because they were good at tumbling. Back then Alex had been catching, but things had changed. Today the two of them were fluid: they made it look effortless.

Cash had been as much of a clown back then as he was now. And then there was Johnson.

Johnson’s parents had owned the circus camp they all went to, and though they made him stay behind with relatives to go to school, he’d dropped out the day he turned sixteen. Then Cash had shown up at Alex’s doorstep two days after graduation with his mom’s old van with Marshall in the passenger seat. He’d left and hadn’t looked back. After spending the summer with Johnson’s family circus positions in the Nothing Rhymes With Circus group had opened up for them.

“No.” Cash’s voice cut through the memories.

Alex looked up. The circus had merged with another one, adding on more performers; a lion tamer, more clowns and acrobats. Today was the day that everything was finally coming together.

“Okay.”

Cash grinned. He knew Alex way too well. “You’re so lame man.”

“You’re both lame,” someone called from the doorway.

Both of them looked up to find Brendon, their ring leader, or stage manager as he preferred to be called, walking across the ring. He looked like he’d been awake for a while; there were dark circles under his eyes. He seemed just as nervous as they were.

“Look who’s talking.” Alex got it out before Cash could and Brendon just rolled his eyes.

Cash looked Brendon up and down appraisingly. “Are Ryan and Spencer nervous wrecks too?”

“Wait until you see how dark Ryan’s makeup is,” Brendon muttered, rolling his eyes. “And don’t piss Spencer off. Now, go make yourselves presentable, and be polite when they get here.”

Chicagoland was a larger circus based out of - surprise, surprise - Chicago. Their stage manager, Patrick, was well-known for being strict, something Spencer and Brendon had never been. Everyone was worried about that.

Until they saw him.

Patrick Stump was short, with scruffy red hair that was covered with a fedora. He was arguing with a grinning man covered in tattoos but the tattooed man just picked up the hat and ruffled Patrick’s hair. Patrick did little to dissuade him.

He sighed as he approached their little group, shaking Spencer, Brendon and Ryan’s hands. “This is Pete.” He nodded his head toward the other man. “He’s on of our clowns and a fully-trained EMT.”

Spencer smirked. “I don’t know what it is with clowns and tattoos,” he said with a nod in Cash’s direction.

Introductions went well. Chicagoland also featured Joe and Andy, who were trapeze artists, but were perfecting a rope routine as not to step on Alex and Marshall’s toes. There were Sisky and Butcher, who, like Cash, were clowns, but had a tightrope routine, and William, who had to have been the tallest clown Alex had ever seen. He and Gabe, who was even taller, had an acrobatic floor routine. And there was Jon, who was in charge of music.

Johnson, as usual, was late. However, he didn’t show up alone. It was safe to say that no one was staring at the long-haired kid sitting on top of the elephant.

Spencer rubbed his fingers across the bridge of his nose. “This is Johnson and Bella,” he muttered as Johnson slid down off of the elephant’s back. He’d promised the night before not to bring her out until the afternoon, until everything was going well.

“She’s beautiful,” Patrick said, glancing to Johnson for confirmation before reaching out to rub her trunk.

“She’s, umm… she’s not part of the deal you bought,” Spencer told him.

Patrick’s brow furrowed.

“She belongs to Johnson, so she’s only here as long as he stays.”

Patrick nodded, reaching out to shake Johnson’s hand. “It looks like you take good care of her.”

“Yeah,” Johnson answered carefully as another trailer pulled up, this one lugging what looked like two cages behind it.

Patrick crossed his arms over his chest as the new figure climbed out of the cab of the truck and headed toward them. At the same time Johnson responded to Spencer’s glare. “See, I’m not that late.”

The new kid’s long, curly hair fell like a lion’s mane around his head. “I told you I wasn’t leaving until they finished their breakfasts,” he said to Patrick before he even reached them.

Patrick just shook his head as Pete high-fived the kid.

“This is Ian, our lion tamer. Tokyo and Sierra are his tiger and lion, respectively.”

Alex stared. This kid couldn’t have been more than a few years older than Alex and Cash and he had two big cats in those extra trailers. Okay, maybe he was a little bit intimidated. He glanced over at Cash to find him staring hard at the new arrival before stepping forward to introduce himself.

“Hey, I’m Cash.”

“Really?”

That was the response that Cash typically got to his name, but he didn’t seem to be annoyed this time.

“Yeah, long story,” he replied. “Can I see the cats?”

A bright smile broke across Ian’s face. “Sure.”

Alex watched them walk away, biting his lip. The discussion he’d had with Cash that morning replayed through his head. He didn’t notice Marshall calling for his attention until his partner pounded on his arm.

“Huh?” he turned his head back.

“Practice?” Marshall asked, probably for the third or fourth time. “Patrick wants to see the new routine we’ve been working on.”

“Sorry, yeah.” He followed Marshall into the tent, where Patrick was standing with Brendon.

The two of them were watching William and Gabe, who, despite their height, were kind of amazing in their tumbling.

“Alex and Alex,” Patrick greeted them.

“Marshall,” Marshall corrected him. “But, yeah.”

“How long have you two been working together?”

They exchanged a glance and Alex replied, “Six years.”

“Who catches?”

“Alex used to when we started,” Marshall explained. “But I, umm… grew more.”

Brendon let out a chuckle, but they were used to the teasing; Alex was tiny.

“Well, let’s see it.”

Alex hoisted himself up quickly. He was still pretty warmed up from earlier, but Marshall hadn’t been out since they worked out the day before. He took a few minutes, pushing the swing then hung himself upside down to signify that he was ready.

Alex waited for that signal and quickly swung and let go. There was no hesitation: there hadn’t been in years. There was just that moment where he was flying and completely free, and then Marshall’s hands were closing around his wrists and they were swinging together. They’d been working on this routine for about three weeks, and almost all the bugs had been worked out. Alex always forgot that there were people watching when they practiced. His focus was on the routine and on Marshall.

Everything came back into focus when they dropped back to the ground simultaneously. It seemed they’d acquired an audience while they’d been up in the air, most looking at them appraisingly.

Alex just looked at Patrick. He wasn’t keen on losing his spot.

“Nice execution,” Patrick told them. He was trying to hide a smile. “Even better than the films Spencer showed me. How’s your improvisation?”

“Shitty,” Marshall said. “We might fuck around during practice but there’s yelling involved. We don’t pull anything new in a show without practice.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Patrick nodded.

“And practices are always monitored, always at least another person around.” Brendon watched Alex as he spoke and Alex could feel himself blushing.

“Right.” Patrick had clearly caught the exchange. “Let’s go see what Johnson and Bella can do then.”

And that’s what the rest of the day was like, watching each performance and trying to work out the show. The rope routine that Joe and Andy had planned still needed a little bit of work. Aside from that, the only real problem was incorporating Cash into the clown routine, and carving out his own space. Once he and Pete brought up the idea of unicycles, all hell broke loose.

The call for dinner came early in the evening when the pizza arrived. Even though Spencer had given them specific instructions to hang around and make friends, the four of them, the Alexes and Cash, settled in the shade at the edge of the lot where Bella was grazing.

Cash tugged on Alex’s hair as he sat down. “So Pete, definitely an evil genius.”

“You two will get along perfectly,” Johnson deadpanned.

Alex was the first to see Ian heading across the field toward them.

“Hey,” he called out. “Mind if I join you guys?”

“That depends on if you mind sharing,” Cash replied, eyeing the six pack that Ian had in his free hand.

Ian laughed, dropping to the ground and taking his own drink before passing the box to Marshall.

“Dude, that trapeze act was so much cooler than anything Joe and Andy can do,” Ian told them.

“Thanks,” Alex said, pulling out a beer for himself and handing one back to Cash.

“Whatever, man, you have a fucking lion in the ring with you,” Cash scoffed.

It was true; Ian’s act was pretty impressive. His girls each had at least a hundred pounds on him and they were intimidating.

Marshall kicked dirt at him. “You just hate the trapeze because you can’t bear to watch it.”

Cash glared. He liked to seem tough, but Alex and Marshall knew him too well. Exploiting his embarrassing little fear was always fun.

“I’m going to have to agree with Cash there,” Ian said. “I like to keep my feet on the ground. So, how long have you guys been working together?”

“My parents own one of those circus camps,” Johnson explained. “Cash started coming the summer he was thirteen, and Alex and Marsh the next year. We’ve all been doing this full-time since they finished school.”

Alex thought back on it. He’d left home with almost a full ride to college waiting for him. His parents hadn’t been happy with his decision, but they’d gotten over it to some extent. He felt like he’d been waiting for it really, for Cash and Marshall to show up and say ‘let’s go’ like they had. The four of them had spent four years in each other’s personal space building up to that and two more since then.

“Hey dumbass, Ian asked you a question.” Cash bumped him, bringing him back to reality. “What is with you today?”

The answer, if Alex was being honest, was that this was a huge transition for him and he was totally freaking out. It was the culture shock that going to college probably would have given him. It had all felt so fluid, continuing life with Cash, Marshall and Johnson. This setup actually felt different, bigger somehow than things had been before. Instead of dignifying Cash with a response he just turned back to Ian, who was watching the two of them with interest.

“What was that?”

“So, are you sure you’re okay?” Marshall asked as they moved around their trailer later, getting ready for bed.

It was a dance they were familiar with, but with the familiarity came the fact that they knew each other inside and out. Marshall could see the tension pouring through Alex from a mile away.

“You’re seriously not worried at all?” Alex asked, dropping down onto his bed.

“No.”

Alex groaned and flopped back onto the pillows.

“Really, man, we have our act. It’s not like we’re starting over. We’ve still got Cash, and Johnson, and Brendon, Spence and Ryan. We’ve just got a whole bunch more people, too. They seem pretty cool. Ian’s nice, Pete is funny as hell. Stop stressing, okay?”

He leveled a look at Alex, and Alex met his eyes, nodding slightly.

“Good.” He pulled a t-shirt over his head and climbed into bed, opening a book in his lap.

Alex rolled onto his side and closed his eyes. His muscles felt sore in the good way. He was going to sleep well tonight. The door banged open and closed, and he heard a new set of footsteps.

“What’s up?” Marshall asked.

“Ian and Johnson are talking shop,” Cash muttered. “Vets and animal care and all sorts of shit I totally don’t care about when I’m trying to sleep.” He raised his voice a little. “Alex, you asleep?”

“No.”

He didn’t roll over, but heard Cash kick off his shoes and felt the bed dip. Cash nudged Alex over so that they both fit on the thin mattress and pressed right up against Alex’s back without a word. The warmth was familiar, as was the weight of Cash’s hand across his waist. Alex let out a sigh and the hand tightened. He started to drift off almost immediately. Maybe things weren’t so different.

Cash was still curled up around his back when he woke up the next morning. Cash was his best friend, but he never got out of bed until the middle of the day without prodding. Alex needed to get up and moving or he would be tired all day.

He changed quickly, tying his hair back before exiting the trailer to find Marshall. It wasn’t hard, he was talking with Sisky and Butcher, who were balancing on low-set, temporary tightropes set up outside.

“Hey man,” Butcher greeted. “You an early riser too.”

“Guess so,” Alex agreed, looking at the tattoo that covered Butcher’s chest. It was kind of cool, not like Cash’s lame shit.

“You warm up yet?” he asked Marshall.

“A little.” Marshall nodded.

“Half an hour?”

“Sure.” Marshall went back to his conversation about how to balance on the low rope and Alex started into the tent. There had to be someone in there.

His eyes landed on the only person in the whole tent: Ian. He was cat-less, simply sitting at the edge of the circle.

He greeted Alex quietly, sleep still evident in his voice.

“Hey.” Alex nodded toward the swing. “Are you gonna be in here for a while?”

“I can be.” Ian nodded.

Alex smiled. Maybe he wasn’t so bad.

“Thanks.” He launched himself onto the swing and began to run through his warm up exercises. When he chanced glances down at the floor, he found Ian watching him with interest.

“Can I ask you a question?” he finally asked, having caught Alex staring back a bit too long.

Alex flipped himself up so that he was sitting on the metal bar, not looking at Ian upside down.

“Sure.”

“You and Cash?”

“What about us?”

Ian raised an eyebrow. “Are you two…”

Alex caught his meaning before the silence lingered. His eyes went wide. “No. No, absolutely not. We’ve just, I mean we’ve been doing this since we were fourteen. We’re close.” He dropped down to the floor as he spoke.

Ian was blushing. “Sorry, I just thought that maybe when he went to your trailer last night… I guess I thought that was a regular thing.”

It was. Alex and Marshall had shared a trailer with Cash and Johnson for four years, so they were used to a lot of them being crammed into a small space. They’d never quite been able to break themselves of that habit, sneaking off to see one another. Maybe Cash and Alex ended up in each other’s beds a little more often, but that was just because they fit together. It wasn’t his fault Johnson was all elbows and Marshall liked to splay out across the whole bed in his sleep. It was the two of them, but it didn’t mean anything.

“No, we just go to each other a lot. Voice of reason, you know?”

Ian nodded and an awkward silence developed between them, neither really sure where to head a conversation like that. It was broken only when Marshall came back into the tent, followed closely by the train of clowns, all set on practice and perfecting new routines.

Alex couldn’t help avoiding catching Cash’s eye as he and Marshall sat down with Patrick to go over their routine before practice started.

“Ian asked about me and Cash this morning,” he told Marshall as they were hanging lazily about twenty feet above the ground an hour later.

“You and Cash?” Marshall questioned.

“He thought there was something going on between us.” He swung harder, ready to send himself over in Marshall’s direction.

“Well, you two do cuddle a lot.”

“Fuck you,” Alex said with no venom. He let go of his swing only to feel Marshall’s strong grip on his wrists a few precious seconds later.

“I’m just saying…” Marshall’s tone was joking.

“We’re close. Just like you and I are close, just like Johnson and I are close.”

“Let me correct you there. You and I, we share a brain,” Marshall said. They had to in order to pull off this routine. “I like to think I know you better than anybody else, but you and Cash have always relied on one another.”

“I thought friends were supposed to do that.” Alex shot back.

“I want these routines to be perfect on opening night you guys,” Patrick called up to them. “Less talking, more practicing!”

Marshall let go, and Alex caught his swing with a practiced ease that, from the ground, looked graceful and effortless. In his focus, he missed Marshall’s mumbled, “Friends doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

Alex spent the next three days focused on practicing and perfecting the routine. Saturday was the first show with the entire circus cast. He was so busy and so focused that he hardly noticed himself ignoring Cash.

Marshall and Johnson were constantly dragging him out to get to know their new family. William and Gabe, along with Pete, had, altogether, been playing clowns in different circuses longer than Alex had been alive. Pete also tended to let them in on secrets about Patrick, ways to get around his rules. Alex, in return, volunteered Spencer’s weakness (read: Ryan), and that Brendon was pretty much as forgiving as he looked.

Andy and Joe were also more than happy to give up the main act as trapeze artists. They were getting older, and there had been a few close calls in the year before.

“He fucking slipped,” Joe revealed. “Fucking dropped one of my arms.”

“And I’ve apologized for this, like, a million times,” Andy tossed back.

Obviously this was a very old argument.

Sisky and Butcher, however, were by far Alex’s favorites. It had become a common practice to spend a few hours around twilight watching them try to teach both Marshall and Brendon on the slack tightrope they’d set up outside. It was hardly two feet off the ground and, as they consumed increasing amounts of alcohol, watching Marshall fall on his face always made Alex double over laughing.

The only reason he even noticed that he and Cash weren’t interacting was that, as much as they were around each other, Cash seemed to be avoiding him too. He spent his time with Pete, or with Ian, plotting ridiculous clown pranks or scratching Tokyo the tiger behind the ears, respectively. Not once all week had he shown up at Alex’s increasingly early morning practices or at the door to their trailer.

He and Cash had gone almost four full days without talking, a feat they probably hadn’t managed since they were fifteen. And he had to admit, every time he walked by, fully engrossed in a conversation with Ian, it kind of stung.

Thursday night, as they were sitting around eating an actual dinner – thank God for Jon, who could actually cook – Patrick pulled into the lot behind the tent. He climbed out of the front seat, pulling with him a couple of thirty racks and a large paper bag. The group of them, gathered around the picnic tables went silent as Patrick set the bag down, bottles clanking obviously.

“Okay,” Patrick said, his face serious in the silence. “Our first show is in two days. I want all of you sober on Saturday morning. Do your drinking tonight and get it out of the way. Seriously, if I see a drop of alcohol tomorrow night, I will fire you on the spot.”

Alex chanced a glance in Pete’s direction. His face was set as he looked at their ringleader. He was serious. Alex wouldn’t dream of drinking the night before a show anyway, but tonight, tonight was a definite possibility.

Johnson took a handle of vodka as the group parted ways, while Alex grabbed a couple of beers. Marshall, Sisky and Butcher trailed after them. An upturned water bucket was quickly converted into a table and shot glasses appeared from somewhere.

Alex popped open a beer and was just raising it to his lips when Sisky snatched it away.

“Oh no, little Alex-shaped dude.” He laughed and held the bottle out of Alex’s reach. “We are getting you properly shit-faced tonight. None of this beer. Proper corruption.”

Alex arched an eyebrow. He was pretty sure that was an oxymoron, or something like it. Nevertheless, he took the shot that Butcher shoved into his hand.

He looked at the clear liquid in the glass for a moment, watching Johnson toss one back.

“C’mon man.” Marshall bumped his drink against Alex’s, and Alex tipped the drink back, letting it burn on the way down and coughing a few times to clear his throat.

Sisky started laughing, pouring another round of drinks for all of them.

A few hours later, they had gone through the entire bottle and started in on some of the beer all of them had grabbed. Jon and Brendon had joined them, and Pete stumbled into their circle with a half-empty bottle of whiskey clutched in one hand.

It was clearly the place to be on the circus’ property.

“Dude, where is your buddy?” Pete asked, stumbling into him and actually sliding to the ground.

“Marshall’s right there.” He nodded toward the trailer steps.

“No, man, Cash Money.” Pete said from the ground. He pulled Alex down with him. “Dude is fucking ridiculous, and he said he and Ian were gonna bring some Jager and more beer.”

“You don’t need more beer,” Alex laughed.

“You do.”

Alex shook his head, feeling the rush of the alcohol. He took hold of Pete’s arm as he tried to stand up, probably to go in search of Cash himself.

“No, man. Stay here. I’ll go find him.”

A sly smile spread across Pete’s face, “Tell him he owes me.”

Alex started off away from the group, heading for Cash and Johnson’s trailer. He chanced a glance over his shoulder once to see Pete full-out sprawled out on the ground, Butcher leaning over him and offering him a beer. No one stopped him and he was glad. He wanted Cash there and the weird dance around each other they’d been doing all week wasn’t worth it. Opening night was Cash’s favorite part of the summer, and they always celebrated together.

“Cash!” He banged on the door before pushing it open to find the trailer dark and empty. He let out a sigh and pulled the door shut as he backed out. Now he had to go searching the grounds in the dark. The amount he’d already drunk was going to hinder it, too. He stumbled down to the tent, which was dark and silent. He was getting jittery and tripped as he passed Spencer and Ryan’s trailer. He could hear them yelling at one another and snorted. This always happened right before new tours.

He passed by one of the cat cages, looking in at the sleeping lion. He tapped on the side of the cage and she just opened her eyes lazily, her tail twitching but otherwise not moving. He continued around the cage to see if maybe they were hanging out in Ian’s trailer.

As he rounded the corner, however, he stopped dead in his tracks. Cash had Ian’s chest pressed up against the side of the trailer, his t-shirt pushed up over one shoulder and his pants down around his ankles. Cash’s own shirt and pants were abandoned on the ground nearby. His hand was buried in Ian’s curls, pulling his head back so that he could press his face in, sucking on Ian’s neck. Ian’s face was blissed out, his eyes closed and his mouth opened wide as he groaned.
Cash was sliding into Ian hard, other hand on his hip, holding him in place.

Something in Alex’s gut twisted painfully, only tightening with each thrust of Cash’s hips. He couldn’t look away, hell, he couldn’t even move. He just stared as Cash peeled his head back, pressing his forehead against Ian’s neck and letting out a groan.

“Fuck,” he growled, “Ian, fuck.”

He snapped his hips forward sharply and Ian let out a high gasp, gripping the side of the trailer so hard his knuckles turned white.

The cat next to him suddenly growled, pouncing against the side of the cage. The movement was enough to jolt Alex out of his frozen position and he leapt away from the cage, a sound that could only be described as a squeak escaping his mouth.

Both of their heads whipped around and for a split second Alex’s eyes locked with Cash’s. He saw them widen fractionally before he was turning away, trying to regain his footing and enough traction to get out of there.

“Alex. Fuck, Alex wait-” Cash’s voice rang out behind him, but Alex was running. He may have been tiny, but long limbs helped him put distance between them. He suddenly felt completely sober.

He stopped short in a quiet spot, bending forward and releasing the contents of his stomach onto the ground. He slid to his knees, coughing and gasping as he tried to hold himself together. He wiped at his mouth and took a few breaths, looking around to be sure Cash hadn’t actually followed him. His eyes stung painfully.

He couldn’t go back to his trailer. Cash would be there, Cash would be looking for him. He couldn’t do that right now. Looking him in the eyes would only make him fall apart. He didn’t know exactly what he was feeling, but it hurt.

When he could stand again, he made his way along the edge of the property, letting himself into the stall Johnson had built for Bella. The elephant stepped toward him, looking for attention, and he scratched her trunk absently as he sat down heavily on the floor. He ignored the wetness dripping down his face and just focused on Bella until the dark overwhelmed him.

Part 2

wherein Jon decides to stay

Mon, 20 Oct 2008 15:09:28 GMT

Title: Wherein Jon Decides to Stay
Author:</a></b></a>exmptfromsanity
Pairing: Jon/Brendon
Rating: PG, if only for Spencer's threats
Summary: Blame the Bunk Meme and Brendon's love of JonWalker cuddles.
Disclaimer: Wishful thinking only...

Brendon’s always had trouble sleeping after shows. His adrenaline high lasts longer than other people’s; he gets the same feeling performing onstage that most people say they do being at concerts. He’s completely awake and energized. Normally he’d be leaping around the bus or attacking the video games in the back lounge but Spencer has threatened him with bodily harm if he keeps him awake tonight and Ryan is on an all-night writing binge. So that leaves Brendon stuck in his four by three by two cubicle – that’s all his bunk really is. He’s practically vibrating with energy as the bus pulls onto the highway and starts the long drive they have to complete by the next afternoon.

His curtain is open a little, the only thing that keeps him from feeling completely caged in, and he watches Jon clamber down from the bunk above his, heading off in the direction of the kitchen. Jon’s still new to them, still working to fit, understanding Ryan’s many silences and Spencer’s equally numerous glares. Brendon’s easy, he loves everyone and Jon had only ever tensed that first time Brendon threw his arms around him.

Brendon likes Jon, he’s relaxed and open in a way that Brent never was.

However, Brendon does not like Jon’s sneaky ways.

He pushes his curtain open a bit farther as Jon comes back from the kitchen, a poptart in his hand. And, well, Brendon totally bought that box of poptarts yesterday.

“Mine, JonWalker,” he says as firmly as possible, running Jon’s name together.

Jon just grins down at him for a moment, “Are you coming out here to share of am I coming in there?”

Brendon’s frown melts into a grin and he scoots back. Jon’s cuddles are awesome. He has grown accustomed to falling asleep on Jon when they watch movies in the lounge on this tour.

Jon crawls into the bunk with him, breaking the snack in half and handing Brendon the smaller one.

“You don’t need any more sugar,” he tells him.

Brendon sticks his tongue out and takes a bite, the strawberry goodness lighting off in his mouth.

They’re both on their sides, pressed almost chest to chest in the small space as they eat. Jon doesn’t move away when he finishes.

“So are you having fun?” Brendon asks him.

“Tour’s crazy,” Jon says agreeably, “William was right when he warned me.”

“But do you like it?”

There’s a deeper question there, an ‘are you going to stay’ that neither he nor his bandmates want to ask aloud.

Jon understands though.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promises.

Brendon nods, trying to keep his smirk from stretching too wide. His bubbling energy has all filtered out. He thinks it’s something to do with Jon, he has this calming effect on Brendon. Slowly he fists a hand in Jon’s t-shirt, “Good.”

Jon smiles a slow, lazy grin and leans in closer, pressing his lips lightly to Brendon’s. It takes a moment for it to register and for Brendon to press back. Jon grins and tilts his head to the side, opening his mouth and pressing his body more closely against Brendon’s. It’s a few minutes later with Jon’s tongue slipping out against his lip and hand tugging lightly on the hair at the base of his neck that Brendon forgets where he is and lets out a moan.

“Urie, I swear to God I will break every one of your appendages,” Spencer’s voice carries from a few feet away.

Brendon’s eyes widen a little bit, because Spencer can be one scare motherfucker, okay. Jon just chuckles.

“Bodily harm, Jon. He’s going to break me.”

“Maybe then you’ll finally hold still for more than ten seconds,” Jon’s voice is teasing, but he wraps his body a little more tightly against Brendon’s as he says it. Brendon counts it as a win and relaxes, reaching past Jon to close the curtain and dropping his arm lightly over Jon’s waist.

Five minutes later they’re both breathing deeply and for once the bus is silent.

Remind Me What You Did When You Wake

Sun, 10 Aug 2008 05:57:31 GMT

Title: Remind Me What You Did When You Wake
Author: Exmptfromsanity
Rating: PG-13 for character death and cursing.
Pairing: Gen. But a bit of Brendon/Ryan, Spencer/Ryan if you squint.
Word Count: 4288
Summary: One day in Seattle Ryan gets some bad news. Luckily the people he cares about most are there for him.
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, wouldn't want to. They get into more than enough trouble without my help.
Notes: No beta to thank, but I fully blame addandsubtract for getting me into Panic and bandom. If anyone would like to volunteer their beta services it would make me ecstatic. Also, the timeline is most defiitely screwed up, but this is fiction so we shall ignore it.

Remind Me What You Did When You Wake

The drive to Seattle begins early in the morning. Ryan literally stumbles from the hotel to the bus, and climbs into the first vacant bunk he comes across. It’s become practice, especially on tour. When he’s able he sleeps as late as possible, in a used hotel room bed or in his bunk with the curtains drawn tight and the blanket pulled up over his head. He’ll sleep until sometimes midafternoon, especially now as they’ve been going almost nonstop for the past few weeks.

He’s just on the edge of unconsciousness when his cell goes off. Without opening his eyes he reaches up past his pillow to grab it. Bringing it close to his face he squints just long enough to read the unfamiliar number on the screen.

If this is a telemarketer or someone who found out his number he’s going to flip. He’s broken phones when he’s been exhausted before.

“H’lo?” he answers, covering a yawn.

“Mr. Ross?” The voice is authoritarian.

“Uhh…” He doesn’t want to give himself away if this is some kind of prank, “That depends on which one you’re looking for.”

“It’s Ryan, correct? You’re George Ross’ son? Of Las Vegas?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” Ryan says. He pushes himself up into a sitting position.

“Ryan, this is Sergeant Richards of the LVPD.”

Inwardly Ryan curses. His dad had promised there would be no more hospital visits while he was on tour.

“Uh huh.” Very smooth.

“Ryan, I’m afraid I have some bad news for you. Your father never showed up for his shift last night so a few officers were sent to your home to check on him. I’m sorry to have to break the news to you but it seems that your father passed away in his sleep sometime yesterday afternoon.”

Ryan sucks in a breath sharply, as though he’s been struck. Over the sudden thudding of his heart he hears the bang like someone else on the bus has overheard the news and had a more physical reaction. It’s impossible, he knows, but he can’t even think to figure out what it was.

“Son, are you alright?” the officer asks.

“What-” Ryan clears his throat as his voice breaks on the word, “What do I have to do?”

“We need someone to come in and identify the body. I know it’s difficult to-”

“I’ll catch the next flight I can.”

“Flight?”

“I’m in Seattle, I think, for work. I can umm… my aunt lives in Summerlin. It might be easier for you to get a hold of her.”

“That’s fine. Can you give me her contact information?”

Ryan rattles off his aunt’s name and telephone number from memory, still not sure exactly where his mind is at the moment. In a normal moment he wouldn’t be able to remember them. It’s funny what stress can suddenly bring on. All he really knows was that he is no longer tired.

“I’m very sorry about your father, young man.” The cop sounds genuinely concerned, “Are you sure you can get home alright by yourself?”

Ryan nods, forgetting that the man can’t see him. “I’ll be okay. I’ve got people who can help me and I…” he trails off.

“If you need anything this number leads right back to my office. I knew your father, Ryan. I’m very sorry.”

“Thanks,” Ryan nods again. “Bye.” He hangs up his phone, dropping it down to the bed. He can’t bring himself to move.

“Ryan?” Brendon’s voice comes from right outside of the bunk. He had to have been sleeping in the one below, the bang that Ryan heard had been him hitting his head when Ryan woke him up. He’s always smacking his head when he sits up. It’s the problem of him sleeping on the bottom bunk.

All he manages is a weak noise in response.

Brendon pushes open the curtain and in another situation Ryan might have laughed at him. His hair sticking up at all angles, his t-shirt hanging off over one shoulder, and those thick glasses on cockeyed. Now he just looks up, and locks eyes with the boy he would consider one of his best friends in the world.

“Are you okay?” There’s genuine concern in Brendon’s voice and his eyes are big and open. It gives him that dear-in-the-headlights look that photographers love, but this time it’s real, and when directed at Ryan it makes him shiver.

“My dad…” His voice cracks and his chest tightens to the point that he feels as though he honestly can’t breathe.

Brendon pulls him forward and Ryan presses his face against Brendon’s shoulder, letting a sob escape from somewhere deep inside him.

“Spencer!” Despite how loud Brendon’s voice is Ryan doesn’t loosen his grip on his friend’s t-shirt. “Spencer Smith, get your ass out here now!”

In only seconds Spencer is there, probably appearing from the back. Not wanting to miss anything Jon is at his heels. Ryan still doesn’t let go of Brendon, he can’t.

“What happened?” Spencer’s voice is desperate. He’s never seen Ryan like this, never even close.

“I don’t know,” Brendon sounds panicked. “He said something about his dad.”

Spencer’s hands are pulling at his shirt, tugging at one arm and trying to tug Ryan’s grip off of Brendon’s sleeve. “Ryan,” he says, voice gentle, “Ry, talk to me.”

One arm moves to grip Spencer’s sweatshirt and the rest of him follows, releasing Brendon who still hardly moves an inch.

“He died,” he gets out before succumbing to another round of sobs, face hidden from view in Spencer’s sweatshirt. He doesn’t know where this is coming from. He’s never lost control like this, never in his life.

This is equally out of left field for the rest of them. Brendon knows enough to be appropriately shocked by both the incident and the reaction. He exchanges a glance with Jon, the poor sucker, who may not fully be able to appreciate the relationship Ryan has with his dad. Jon’s gaping because losing a parent is terrifying in itself, and something he couldn’t imagine going through. Somehow, that year he has on Ryan and the rest of them seems smaller and smaller by the minute.

Spencer is holding it together. Ryan’s reaction has him absolutely astounded but he thinks he might get it. Despite all the fighting and the yelling and the nights spent asleep on Spencer’s bedroom floor Ryan’s dad was the one who raised him. This is Ryan’s dad and he’s just gone. He holds on tight because Ryan will pull himself together eventually. He rarely asks for help and here he is, needing it. Spencer’s going to give him all of the support that he needs.

“Call Joe,” he says over his shoulder. His own voice is starting to tremble because it is shaking the foundation of everything he believes in to see Ryan fall apart like this.

Jon has his cell phone out and is dialing, taking a few steps away from them and eventually disappearing out of sight. He’ll probably be the most able to talk and make sense at this point, get across what they need. Being unfamiliar with their dynamic is actually a good thing. He won’t be overly emotional or drawn into the problems.

Brendon is still just standing there and Spencer reaches out, tugging him roughly over to join them, because this is not something that even the stoic Spencer Smith can deal with alone. Ryan needs more than just him. Ryan needs all the support that he can get.

“Shh…” Spencer crouches down just a little bit, his hands on either side of Ryan’s face and his voice quiet and calm. He’s had this tone down since they were twelve, and it very rarely fails him. “It’s okay Ryan. It’s all going to be okay. We’ve got you.” He knows he’s talking to Ryan like he’s a little kid and under normal circumstances he would get told off for it, but this is how he deals with his sisters, the only way he knows how to comfort people in such earth-shattering situations. He gets Ryan to look him in the face and almost immediately he’s calming down.

Spencer keeps making soothing noises and Brendon tugs his fingers lightly through Ryan’s hair. It’s what his own mother did when he was a little kid so he hopes Ryan finds it equally comforting; he just wants to be there for him.

The three of them are silent by the time Jon comes back into the bunk area. He looks uncertain for a moment before approaching their little group. He takes hold of Ryan’s hand, prying it off of Spencer’s sleeve. Ryan grips Jon’s wrist like it’s a lifeline.

Things are finally calm twenty minutes later. Ryan’s breathing has finally returned to normal. One hand is wrapped around the sleeve of Spencer’s sweatshirt, his face buried in the grey material. His other hand gripping Jon’s tightly. There are hands holding his face, his shoulder, and even fingers tugging through his hair. He doesn’t know how they got here and for the next few days he’s going to put that entire episode out of his mind. He just knows they’re there.

“Joe’s got you a flight,” Jon says, finally breaking the silence. “It’s not until one, so you’ve got a few hours.”

Ryan nods against Spencer’s shoulder. Slowly he sits back and all of the hands loosen their grips slightly but no one moves away.

“Thanks.” His voice is hoarse, a bit scratchy from crying.

“What happened?” Spencer asks. His voice is careful, and his question fully thought out. He doesn’t need to answer if he doesn’t want to and this is perfectly clear.

“In his sleep. They said he just pass-” His voice catches, “went in his sleep sometime yesterday.”

He diverts his eyes down to the floor, staring at their shoes. “Pull one of the guys up to play guitar for the next few shows. I-”

“Shut up.” It’s Brendon’s voice that says it and that surprises him because in serious situations Brendon usually clams up. “Don’t you dare talk about fucking business right now, okay? We’ll take care of it.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” Spencer asks.

Ryan looks up. Spencer knows his dad, knows his situation better than anyone else, but Spencer also needs to be here, and if Ryan can’t be that’s more important.

“No.” he says, “No, I think I need to do this by myself. You need to stay here and… and perform.” He’s not really sure, in fact he’s pretty certain that he’s lying and he’ll end up broken and calling Spencer at three in the morning but right now he’s not thinking that far ahead.

They all jump as his cell phone goes off again. It’s a set ringtone, a loud, fast-paced song and he knows immediately who it is.

He holds the phone out to Spencer. “Pete.”

Spencer just nods, taking the phone and backing away. Ryan can hardly put into words what happened, even to them, so there’s no way he can talk to Pete. With his brusque questions and his insistent need for detail he would reduce Ryan to a mess again.

“Yeah,” he opens the phone, heading toward the back of the bus with it, out of earshot. “No, it’s Spencer… No, he can’t. Talk to me.”

Jon sits down on the bed next to him as Spencer’s voice fades. He wraps an arm around Ryan’s shoulders.

“I should pack,” Ryan says blankly.

“Just sit,” Jon says. “Just sit for a few minutes.”

Jon is calm. He always is, and Ryan leans into him. If there’s one thing that this band ever needed it’s Jon because he added the normalcy to the mix that Brent couldn’t and he made them whole. Here he is again now, the only one who can’t really understand Ryan and his dad, and he’s the one doing the work with a clear head.

As he boards the plane he feels more utterly alone than he has in his entire life. It’s only a three hour flight but he’s already dreading the entire thing. Three hours is a long time to sit and think. It would have been better if one of his friends had been with him.

Spencer had asked if Ryan needed him to come and it had taken all of his will power not to say yes. They’d canceled shows and that was enough. He didn’t want to drag Spencer back to Vegas for a depressing three or four days of dealing with Ryan’s drama.

As he takes his seat he pulls out his cell phone and dials without even looking. Spencer picks up on the first ring.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Ryan answers, his voice tired and unsure. “I just want to give myself less time to think about what’s going on.”

“I get that.” Spencer says. He’s quiet for a minute and Ryan is about to ask if he’s still there when he speaks again.

“I called my mom. She wants you to stay with them while you’re home. You don’t have to, I know your aunt lives near there but I said I’d ask y-”

“Yeah, tell her I’ll be there.” It’s not that he isn’t close to his family, which he isn’t; it’s that the Smiths have always been there. He’s practically lived in Spencer’s room since he was six or seven.

“She’s worried about you,” Spencer tells him. Spencer’s mom is a bit stifling when concerned and Spencer is clearly his mother’s son.

“Everyone seems to be,” Ryan nods to himself. He loves them for it.

“What do you want me to say right now?” Spencer asks.

“What?” Ryan is confused. Spencer is always stable and always knows what everyone needs. This morning he’d known exactly how to handle him, and how to deal with Pete.

“I mean, it’s customary to say I’m sorry in this situation but you and your dad were so…” Spencer trails off for a moment, “I know you two were doing better. I’m around if- when you need someone to talk to, if you need to fall apart.”

“Thanks Spence. Tell Jon and Brendon the same thing.”

“They know.”

“Still, tell them.”

“Okay.”

There is another length of silence and Ryan watches the other people boarding the plane. There’s a woman sitting next to him now.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you? I can catch the next flight or be there in the morning.”

Ryan sighs, he’s tempted. “Won’t I have enough people trying to take care of me? You’ll be there when I get back, and someone has to look after Brendon and Jon, make sure they stay out of trouble.”

“I think it’s going to be a pretty somber couple of days without you.” Spencer tells him. It’s when Ryan realizes he hasn’t heard a sound the entire time they’ve been talking; no laughter, no movie in the background, no video games. The bus or hotel room is completely silent.

“Did you bring anything to help you sleep on the plane?”

Ryan curses. He hates flying and knows there is a pill bottle in his bunk. “Nope.”

“You’ll be okay.” Spencer sounds a lot more certain than he does. “You can think about what you’re going to say.”

There’s another thing. He has to say something at the funeral. What the hell can he say about his father without falling apart?

Announcements start over the intercom and he grits his teeth. “I have to go.”

“Call me when you get there, if you need anything.” Spencer sounds worried again. “He was proud of you Ryan, don’t dwell on the problems.”

“Thanks Spence. Bye.”

As Ryan hangs up the phone he suddenly knows what he can say about his father.

It’s late when he gets back. Even though there was no show tonight it’s late enough that he expects everyone else is asleep. The only lights on are the ones that line the hallway. It’s too late to fumble around and try to unpack so he just drops his duffel bag in the lounge.

He starts back and there isn’t a sound from any of the bunks. Everyone is most definitely asleep. That’s probably for the best.

He slides open the curtain to his bunk and jumps backward, barely keeping himself from waking everyone else up. “Christ Brendon,” he hisses. His heart is pounding.

Brendon is laying in Ryan’s bunk, with the latest book he is reading.

“Hey,” he says quietly, “Sorry. How was your flight?”

Ryan just shakes his head. “Long. The last three days have just been really long.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Now Ryan sees it. One of them had to stay awake to wait up for him. Make sure he wasn’t broken.

“No.” His answer is short, rough. It’s honest. He’s done enough talking in the past three days to last him a lifetime.

Brendon bites his lip, trying not to look a bit stung by his tone. He’s trying to be here for Ryan, not thinking about himself at all.

“Are you okay?”

“No,” this time he almost chuckles as he leans forward, leaning on the bunk. “I think it’s been the longest four days of my life. I just want to… not think about it anymore.” He clasps his hands together, looking down at his fingers.

Brendon slides closer to the edge of the bunk. His hand touches Ryan’s shoulder and he actually kisses Ryan’s forehead.

“You look exhausted.”

Ryan just kind of moans, nodding.

“I’ll let you sleep then.” He moves as though to get out of the bunk but Ryan stops him.

“Just, scoot over, okay?”

Brendon stops and looks at him for just a moment, something in his eyes calculating, trying to understand. Then he scoots back, making room. Ryan climbs into the bunk with Brendon, and although both of them are thin they have to roll onto their sides to fit even somewhat comfortably.

The two of them just lay there together as Ryan tugs the shades closed and their eyes adjust to the dark.

“I missed you,” Brendon is the first to break the silence as he wraps an arm around Ryan’s waist.

Ryan snorts and starts to chuckle in response because the comment is something he would say after they’d been apart for five minutes, on any regular day.

The normalcy of it is something Ryan hasn’t felt in days. No, he’s spent the past four days shuffling awkwardly around family members and person after person that he feels like he’s never met in his life. He’s heard more ‘I’m sorrys’ and ‘you poor things’ than he cares to for the rest of his life. He’s been hugged and touched and stared at more than at some of their shows. He didn’t like the feel of it, and without his friends there to back him, to support him, he’d felt awkwardly out of place. He hadn’t slept, he’s hardly eaten and now his laughter is turning into tears.

He chokes on a sob as it all catches up with him. Brendon immediately tightens his grip, pulling Ryan back against his chest. Ryan grips his arm. He needs this.

Brendon holds on as it gets worse and Ryan bites his lip to keep from getting too loud.

“Do you want me to go get Spencer?” His voice is quiet, just behind Ryan’s ear.

Ryan shakes his head. He’s trying to calm himself down, really he is. He rolls over so that he’s facing Brendon and tucks his face between the pillow and Brendon’s shoulder. Brendon shifts immediately, arms still around him, but he’s closer, hiding Ryan from everything else. Ryan is grateful for it, for all his band mates have done for him.

Brendon starts whispering nonsense, something about them being there and time mattering, and all Ryan hears is his voice. Sometimes listening to Brendon talk in circles can give him a headache but right now it’s the most comforting sound in the world.

When he wakes up they’re both still cramped in his bunk. He can tell that hours have passed but he’s not sure that it’s late enough that they need to be out of bed yet. He presses his face forward into Brendon’s collar a bit more.

“Mmm?” That wakes Brendon, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Ryan whispers.

They’re quiet for a moment and he thinks Brendon’s fallen back asleep again, but then he speaks.

“I don’t know what the right thing to say to you is,” he says quietly.

Ryan shrugs. “Is this what it was like with your parents, when we started?”

“No,” Brendon smoothes Ryan’s hair back a little bit.

“You never talked to them,” Ryan says, “I talked to my dad, sometimes, but to you it was like they just didn’t exist.”

“Ryan…”

“Please.”

“It hurt too much,” Brendon says. He sounds older when he says it, more serious than ever. Ryan can hear the pain locked away in his voice. “I was too young for them to kick me out on my own and they didn’t want to talk to me. It’s hard for a while, but it gets easier. I’m here for you, we all are.” It’s not the same as what’s going on with Ryan but losing family is losing family and Brendon still remembers the hurt.

Ryan nods, “Were we here for you enough?”

Brendon lets out a chuckle. “You guys are the only reason I made it through the hard days.” His voice lowers, “Go back to sleep. It’s still early.”

Ryan can feel that Brendon is tense after that, that even if Ryan drifts off again there’s no way that he will. Ryan responds by wrapping his arm over Brendon’s waist because, if he’s learned anything at all, it’s that his friend sometimes just needs someone to hold onto.

“Thanks Ryan,” Brendon whispers, hugging back.

“Pete. What the fuck?” Ryan hisses into his phone.

“Well it’s nice to hear from you too, Ryan Ross.” Pete doesn’t seem the least bit phased by the fact that Ryan is extremely pissed at him.

“I’m serious. What the hell?”

“You’ve got to tell me what you’re talking about in order to get an answer here.”

“’Yeah, this dude was like twenty years old and got famous and his dad passed away and he doesn’t have any family and it’s like he’s so loved but so unloved. And it’s such a bizarre position to be in…’” He gets fed up and is half tempted to throw his laptop across the room. Someone sent him the clip and he had to watch it a few times to make sure he’d heard right. He sees why Jon had been hesitant to hand over the link in the first place. “What were you thinking when you said that? That I’d be okay with it?”

“Ryan, calm the fuck down.” Pete doesn’t get stressed out easily and it kills Ryan that he doesn’t sound the least bit remorseful.

“No.” he snaps, “Fuck Pete, this is my life you’re fucking with.”

“I’m not trying to fuck with you Ryan. I’m just worried about you.”

Ryan sighs, collapsing back onto his bed. “I’m fine.”

Pete laughs, “That is such a load of crap. I don’t know where to start. Your dad died Ryan.”

“Thank you. I hadn’t noticed,” Ryan replies bitterly. It’s been over a year but the subject is still sore.

“No, I mean, you’re different Ryan. Before you at least had some connection to a home somewhere and that’s important when you’re on tour and in this business, trust me.”

Ryan takes a deep breath. He knows about Pete’s suicide attempt and he hates it when Pete is serious.

“I’m just worried that you don’t have family, that you don’t have anyone to fall back on.” Pete sounds concerned, making it almost impossible to stay mad at him.

Ryan groans, “I have plenty of family.”

“Yeah? Have you called your aunt since the funeral? Your mom?”

Ryan bites his lip. “I have you,” he says. “I have Jon, and Brendon and Spencer.”

Pete doesn’t say anything for a minute. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Ryan repeats. He’s actually calmed down and isn’t nearly as mad as he was when he picked up his phone.

“I worry about you. Call me more often and not just when I do something stupid.”

“Yeah, okay,” Ryan replies, “Later Pete.” He hangs up.

“You really okay?”

He looks up to find Spencer standing in the doorway.

“Uh huh,” Ryan nods.

Spencer snorts, “You’re such a shitty liar.”

He sticks his tongue out at his friend in response. It’s immature but he totally doesn’t care.

Spencer rolls his eyes, “Real mature.” He takes a few steps into their room. “Well, the rest of your family and I want to know if you want to get in on a night of debauchery in Jon and Brendon’s room?”

A grin pulls at the corners of Ryan’s mouth. He can’t make himself get mad that Spencer heard that whole conversation.

“You guys are family,” he says getting up.

“Yeah, I know,” Spencer wraps an arm around his shoulders as they leave the room.

Brendon is the first one to spot Ryan as they open the door across the hall.

“Ryan, save me from Jon’s mad guitar hero skills!” he begs, falling off the bed in the process. Jon just laughs at him from where he’s perched, video game controller in hand, an eyebrow arched in what is most certainly a challenge.

Ryan shakes his head, walking further into the room.

This is how it should be.

Rooftops (Chapter Eight)

Wed, 26 Mar 2008 04:34:26 GMT

Title: Rooftops
Author:Rating: T
Summary: At seventeen Michael is spending a little more than a month in New York with his uncle. While there he meets a twenty-year-old New York native named Ben. Both are surprised to find out how much they have in common. (Chapter 8 - Both Ben and Michael have to deal with the friday afternoon's fallout, and a revelation shocks everyone.)
Notes/spoilers: Completely AU, takes place when Michael and Ben are high school and college age. I know it's been a while. I got absolutely no writing done while I was in Ireland, but Easter Break yeilded a lot of free time. I'm not sure how the rest of the semester is going to go but I'm working on it, and if I spend my summer at school more work should get done.
Disclaimer: Owned by Showtime, Cowlip, etc. Not mine.
Feedback: Makes me almost as happy as watching qaf on tv.

exmptfromsanity

Rooftops
Chapter Eight

Upon waking up again in the early afternoon Ben had told Michael about the morning’s events immediately. Vic wanted to talk to them and he wasn’t going to go home in order to duck out of whatever punishment Vic was going to deal out.

“What’d he do when you and Brian got in trouble?” he asked carefully, as he smoked a cigarette on the roof of the building.

‘Grounded us,” Michael said, “It didn’t really do much seeing as we shared a room and Brian found ways to cause trouble in the apartment. Vic goes out like clockwork so we snuck out all the time. Eventually I think he just gave up.”

“So, what are you afraid of?”

Michael winced, reaching out for the cigarette and taking a drag.

“I don’t like to disappoint him,” he said, looking up as he handed it back to Ben. “It’s kind of hard to explain.”

“Michael, what happened to your da-” Ben’s question was cut off as the door slammed open.

Vic stood there as their heads both whipped around to look at him. He didn’t look quite as calm as he had that morning.

“Come downstairs,” he said, “the three of us need to talk.”

Ben stamped his cigarette out against the wall as Michael stood up and together the two of them followed the familiar path down to his apartment.

Vic had a glass in front of him, a bottle of Jack Daniel’s on the counter. Michael and Ben both sat down in the chairs on the other side of the counter as Vic took a long drink.

“Uncle Vic?” Michael asked. He wasn’t used to this quiet. It was one of the ways Vic was like his mother, when he was upset he yelled.

“This is not going to happen again,” Vic said quietly, pouring himself another glass as he spoke. “If it does, Ben, I’m not going to expect to see you over here ever again. Michael, you will be grounded, and don’t think you can pull the same stunts that you and Brian used to get away with. I will stay away from the clubs and watch you like a hawk until you go home. Even better, I could just send you home right then.”

“Uncle Vic, nothing happened,” Michael assured him.

Vic looked up, “But it has before. Maybe not much with Ben, but there have been others. Michael, I’m not stupid. And Ben, you’re in college so I highly doubt it would be a first for you.”

“Uncle Vic!” Michael’s voice cracked. His uncle didn’t normally speak so bluntly.

“I expect both of you to be safe,” he said calmly, taking a sip of his drink. “I was in your position no so long ago. I know what will go on under my roof if I let it. That is not going to happen in my home, where I am responsible for my nephew’s well being. Is that clear?”

He raised his eyes and stared at both of them.

“Yes Sir,” Ben replied respectfully. He’d been quiet throughout Vic’s entire outburst and now his voice was steady.

Michael just stared at his uncle for a moment before echoing Ben’s response.

“Ben, I think you should head home now,” Vic’s voice finally broke the silence that had settled between the three of them a few moments later. “I don’t expect to see you back here until Monday at the earliest. Michael just… go to your room.”

He turned away from them, throwing back the rest of his drink.

The two of them exchanged looks as his back was turned, both to see how the other was handling this reaction.

Ben nodded. He could live with it. The punishment seemed more than appropriate. He leaned across the space between them and kissed Michael.

“I’ll talk to you later,” he said. “Call if you need anything.” The look on his face was meant to assure Michael that everything was going to be fine.

He knew that he wasn’t going to be around for the next few days but Michael might need someone to talk to, someone more than Vic or a long distance telephone call to Brian.

As the apartment door closed behind him Michael didn’t move from his seat. He just sat there, staring at his uncle’s back.

“Go to your room Michael,” Vic said without turning around.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Vic finally turned around. “Now go.”

Michael didn’t move. “All you’ve been doing since I got together with Ben is encouraging me. You even sent him back to bed with me this morning. He told me. And just now you didn’t freak out and yell like Ma does. You were calm, so something has to be wrong. Something has to have happened to change your mood so much from this morning.”

Vic reached for the bottle but Michael pulled it out of his reach. He stared at his nephew for a moment before sighing deeply.

“That trick,” he said, staring at Michael, exhaustion evident in his face.

“Sam?” Michael supplied, staring right back.

Vic nodded, “He called me at work today.”

“I thought you said good tricks were good because they didn’t expect anything beyond the sex. Why did he even have your work number?”

“Michael, please.” Vic paused before starting very slowly, “He just got tested and came back positive.”

Michael froze, so surprised he almost dropped the bottle that he was holding to the floor. He didn’t need to ask Vic what he meant. He already knew. He swallowed hard.

“We were safe most of the time,” Vic said.

“Are you – Did you go get tested?” Michael asked. His words came out rushed and full of worry.

“I have an appointment on Monday,” he said, “And I’ll have to go and get tested again in six months or so. Sometimes it doesn’t show up right away.” He sighed, “Michael, anything that goes on between Ben and you, I want you to be careful. You two need to be safe. I don’t ever want to see you in this position.”

Michael nodded. A knot was growing in his throat but he managed to speak around it. “I promise.”

Vic stepped around the counter and enveloped Michael in a tight hug as he let out a long breath. “Do me a favor and go to your room for a while. I need some time to think.”

Michael nodded and headed across the room, still in a daze.

“And don’t tell your mother.”

Ben was hesitant as he unlocked the front door of his parents’ house and let himself inside. He’d argued with himself about even coming back. The things he had said, he could hardly believe that he’d said them, that no one had come after him or threatened him. Even worse than that was knowing what he would have to come back to. There was going to be yelling. He’d thought about going to visit Brandon or one of his other friends, maybe even seeing if Joan needed him to pick up an extra shift at work, but his feet had taken him home.

The house was quiet and he thought that maybe luck was going to be on his side and they wouldn’t be home.

He started up the stairs, intent on hiding out in his room, changing and possibly leaving again.

Unfortunately he heard his mother talking on the phone in her office and she heard him as he went to push open his bedroom door.

“Benjamin, can I have a word with you?” she called. He knew it wasn’t really a question.

Slowly he walked into the room, leaning on the back of one of the chairs as she finished up her conversation and hung up the phone.

“Sit down.” Her tone was firm.

Inwardly he winced. His mother rarely yelled, but he did follow her instructions and sat down in front of her desk.

His mother crossed her arms over her chest, “I know that you and your father don’t get along Ben, but what you said yesterday...”

“I know.” He said when she trailed off.

“Well, say something Ben. Don’t just sit there and expect that this is going to blow over.”

“Mom, I’m sorry.”

“That’s not going to cut it this time,” she said. “Look, I know that writing is important to you and that you think you know what you want, but Ben, your father is right. You are young. You could change your mind.”

“You taught me not to half-ass things,” he reminded her, “I’ve done my research. I’ve talked to some of my professors. I’m already looking into grad schools. I know I’m young but I really have no interest in law or politics. Why would I do something that makes me miserable for the rest of my life?”

“Your father is hardly miserable.”

“But I would be.” He said. “I know I shouldn’t have said most of what I did to Dad, but Mom, some of the stuff he said, what he said about writing being a waste of time and about Michael. That isn’t fair. He doesn’t know anything about it.”

His mother’s face softened a little and she closed her eyes, taking a moment to herself to think things through.

“Your father has very strong opinions, Ben. He can’t help that any more than you can. That’s where you get it from after all. Now, you want to be treated like an adult and allowed to make your own decisions? Then I expect you to act like one. Go downstairs, now, and talk to your father. Stop screaming at him and talk.”

“Just to be fair, he yelled first.”

The look that his mother leveled at him made him mutter a quick apology.

“Where were you last night, I was worried.”

“Michael’s,” he said, “Vic’s. I crashed on the couch.”

“Michael’s uncle let you stay?”

“He didn’t get back until we were both asleep.” Ben confirmed. “As it is I got told to stay away for a few days. I think Vic’s having a rough week.”

“Mr. Grassi puts up with a lot from you boys, I’m sure.” She said, “and for what it’s worth I like Michael.”

Ben bit his lip to keep from grinning, “Thanks Mom.”

She said nothing, simply gave him a brief smile before turning back to her computer, undoubtedly going back to work.

Ben wrung his hands as he stood outside the door of his father’s office. This was the conversation he was really dreading. Nothing was good enough for his father, who had valued Princeton over Yale, and academics over sports. Ben loved football, and was proud that it made up part of his scholarship. Yale had been his first choice and of course, he valued writing over politics or law. This was going to be difficult, mostly because of the words and accusations they had been throwing at one another all summer.

Finally he worked up the courage. He knocked at the door.

“Come in.” His father’s voice was curt on the other side.

Ben turned the handle and let himself into his father’s study, or office, whatever he wanted to call it. Peter Bruckner was seated behind his desk with briefs and other legal documents Ben couldn’t name piled high on the desk in front of him. He scarcely looked up as Ben closed the door behind him. He didn’t sit down, just leaned back against the door.

Finally he spoke, “To be honest, I’m surprised to see you back so soon.”

“I would have stayed away longer if it was possible,” Ben admitted.

Peter Bruckner put down his pen and looked up. “Well, you’re here now so I want to talk to you about a few things. First and foremost, if you ever speak to me that way again-”

“I know. Mom already threatened me. And I am sorry. Most of what I said you didn’t deserve. The sarcasm and the yelling about school was childish. I’ll admit that. It certainly wasn’t right of me to curse at you like I did.”

“You’re right,” his father said, “I’d better not hear you do it again.”

“Yes, Sir,” Ben nodded in agreement. After the two of them remained silent for a few moments he spoke again, “But Mom told me that I had to come down here and talk to you, so I’m going to get past my apologies and just lay everything out for you at once.”

His father raised an eyebrow. “Alright Ben.”

“I don’t want you talking about Michael anymore, not when he can’t defend himself.”

“I can’t help how I feel.”

“But it would be different if he was a girl, wouldn’t it?”

“I’ve told you time and time again, I’ve accepted that you’re gay.”

“That wasn’t what I asked.”

There was a long, drawn out silence in which the two of them stared at one another.

“Yes,” he said finally, “it would.”

Ben nodded. He hadn’t expected that to sting quite as much as it did. He’d known for a while that his father wasn’t completely supportive but there were so many worse things he could be doing with his life.

“Anything else?”

“School.” His voice caught on the word and he cleared his throat. “I stand behind everything I said yesterday. If you want to stop paying for school that’s fine. I made the president’s list last semester. I’m the top student in the English department. I have a feeling they would offer me some more scholarships.”

His father nodded briefly.

“Also, I am not going to change my major.”

“Ben-”

“Stop. I’m not. It’s a really simple concept to grasp. Dad, I like writing. I am good at it. You like politics and law, that’s great, but they’re never going to be something I could even think about doing. I have a plan. I’m sticking to it, whether you approve or not. So, if you’re going to keep telling me what a mistake I’m making we might as well just not talk while I’m home.”

His father stared.

Again the silence was painful, and he was afraid of what his father would say when he finally found his words. He could deal with not talking to his father. He opened the door and stepped outside, closing it again behind him.

He waited for a moment and didn’t hear any movement from the other side of the door. That was it then; that’s how things were going to be. He could accept that.

As he walked across the hardwood floor in the hall and the sound of his shoes echoed and the sound only seemed to be magnified. This had the possibility of being a really awkward summer. When he finally reached his bedroom he collapsed onto the bed, kicking off his shoes and burying his face in a pillow. The next two days were going to be miserable, especially considering he couldn’t just escape as he had been.

He’d call work tomorrow; see about getting a shift or two.

For now he was exhausted. He missed school where he had time built into his schedule for a nap. Today it was just coming about because he had nothing else to do. He could go down to the clubs with the guys tonight and forget about all of this shit.

There were long silences in Vic’s apartment. That was all the two of them could really muster, all they would be able to do while they waited for Monday to roll around, and for the results after that.

Vic ordered takeout or cooked. He went to work and came back, but Michael couldn’t go anywhere. Vic worked early again on Saturday and came back upstairs with mail, handing Michael a small yellow package.

“A gift from your friend down in the Pitts.”

Michael frowned as he tore open the package, but smiled as he found what Brian had sent him. Comics, four of them, all new issues he’d yet to read.

“I’m going to order pizza for dinner in a few hours. Do you want anything now?”

“No,” Michael replied, heading for his room. He closed his door happy to cut off contact. He was struck with fear every time he looked at Vic. His uncle was his hero, but this was… potentially life threatening, and just scared the shit out of him.

He opened up the comic books to just forget.

X-men. Batman. Superman. He saved Captain Astro for last. It was kind of sad, he realized that, a seventeen year old spending an afternoon reading comic books. He knew how they went by now. They’d save the world only to learn a lesson in the process. It was comforting and a constant unlike almost anything else in his life.

He was worried about his mother, about Vic, permanently about Brian. Now he was worried about Ben too. He had been upset when he’d shown up on Thursday, and he could see that he hadn’t wanted to go home when Vic had kicked him out. He had almost called but was afraid of his parents’ reaction toward him. Ben had only started having problems with them this summer and despite the fact that Ben promised his mother liked Michael he was afraid Ben’s dad would answer the phone.

This week Captain Astro saved a friend of Galaxy Lad’s, a young man whose failure had made him a source of ridicule. He’d gone and tried to show off, becoming involved with the wrong people and involving himself in a villainous plot.

As he set the comic aside he collapsed back onto the bed. He wished real life was like that, that he could know everything was going to turn out all right. There was so much that could go wrong right now; he didn’t even want to think about it.

Placing the comics on a table he caught sight of the packet of paper sitting there. He was afraid of reading it, Ben’s writing, afraid that he wouldn’t like it, that it would be too far over his head in terms of language. He pulled it to the bed in front of him and looked down at the first page. Ben’s name was listed in the left hand corner and under it was a title that meant nothing to him. He began to read.

It took one hundred and three days for me to come out to my parents after I decided that I would need to do so. Fear crawled up and down my spine and over every inch of my flesh twenty-four hours a day. It wasn’t that I had ever seen either of them act particularly homophobic, but I think that it was something more innate than that.

I think that a fear builds up inside of everyone when they discover that they aren’t quite like everyone else. Being different has never been smiled upon. Even those who led to change were only accepted after success became part of the plan. The fear built, along with a suspicion that I didn’t really know the people I love the most. I was afraid that my father, who I had respected more than anyone else for so much of my life, would be disappointed in me. I also feared upsetting my mother’s fantasy of a brood of grandchildren.

I started by telling a friend, a guy I had been close to since elementary school. He’d taken it well, an I-thought-so and a shrug of his shoulders. It was over just like that, with no great fanfare. The next weekend, as always, I was on the park playing basketball with him and everyone else. So I told another friend. And another. And another. It became easier every time.

And then I told someone who disapproved. I realized it almost immediately, when he stopped coming to sit with us at lunch, when he stopped joining the pickup games of basketball and football. It stung. I really did get upset over it, especially when I heard him tell coach that he ‘wasn’t going to play with no queer come the fall.’

My parents noticed. They asked what was wrong. Still stinging from the pain of rejection I was so afraid to tell them, but I bit my tongue and forced myself to sit down with them one night. ‘I’m gay.’ The words fell out of my mouth so easily that I can hardly believe that it was me saying them.

Michael continued to read; captivated by the way Ben strung the words along on the page. He was almost afraid to tear his eyes away.

The words seemed so personal that Michael could barely imagine sharing these words with anyone. Granted his own mother had told him that he was gay and Brian’s response had simply been ‘why the hell did you think I was friends with you,’ but it all just seemed too close.

He swore that he could hear Ben’s voice saying these words, which made him miss him all the more. Now he could see why Ben had been so wary about having him read it. He could also see that Ben was amazingly talented.

He continued on, so engrossed in the story that when Vic was suddenly standing in front of him he literally jumped.

Amused, Vic raised an eyebrow, “Pizza’s here.”

“Okay,” Michael nodded, marking his place with one of the comics that Brian had sent him. There was no way that he would finish it all before he saw Ben the next day but it was definitely a way to pass the time and avoid awkward conversations with Vic.

Ben was happier than usual when he got out of work on Monday afternoon, to finally be able to see Michael again. He could hardly imagine what it would be like to go for months without seeing him. He let himself into the building and began heading up the stairs, running headlong into Brandon as he rounded a corner.

Normally he would have just given a quick hello but Brandon was as white as a ghost and barely seemed to see him.

“Bran?” he reached out a hand to stop his friend, “You okay?”

He started at the sound of Ben’s voice but covered quickly, in a voice that shook, “H-hey Benny.”

“Brandon, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He shook his head.

Ben tightened his hold on his friend’s arm as Brandon went to move past him.

“We’ve been friends for a long time. You can’t expect me to believe that.”

Brandon stared at him, “Sam just tested positive.”

Ben’s stomach clenched. HIV was a frightening disease but it had never struck nearly this close to his part of the community before. And to have it possibly happen to Brandon? He wrapped his arms around his friend to have him hug back.

“You’re always safe, though,” he said. Brandon had given him countless lectures.

“Almost always.”

Ben winced. He was reminded of the lecture Vic had given him and Michael the week before. That’s when the pieces fit together. Sam had slept with Vic. And Vic knew.

His stomach turned again. Had Vic told Michael? Had he gotten tested? Were there results?

“That doesn’t mean it’s definite. Go down to the clinic.” His voice sounded a lot steadier than he felt.

Brandon nodded, “I will soon.”

“Why not today?”

“I’ve got some stuff at work.”

Ben stared. Since when did work trump Brandon’s health, or his sex life for that matter.

“Brandon…”

“Ben, I’m going to be late for work. I’ll talk to you later in the week. Make sure to say hi to Michael for me.” With that he was gone, hurrying down the stairs, leaving Ben alone feeling like a weight was pressing down heavily on his chest.

Michael was engrossed in his reading when there was a knock at the door. The narrative and his comics went back to their place on his desk before he hurried across the apartment. When he opened the door Ben stepped in, hugging him tightly.

Michael was a bit surprised but hugged him back. “What’s up?”

Ben shook his head as they parted, as though shaking himself out of a daze, “Missed you, that’s all.”

Michael could tell that more than that was going on but wasn’t sure what to say. He’d promised Vic that he wasn’t going to say anything to Ben, although it would make their discussion on Friday so much clearer.

When Ben leaned down to kiss him he couldn’t help but relax.

“Long weekend?” Ben asked.

Michael nodded.

“For me too.” He agreed, “How’s Vic?”

Michael froze. Ben didn’t tend to ask questions like that. Did he know something?

“He’s still a little pissed at us, but I think he’ll be happy you’re here so I stop moping around the apartment.”

Ben let a grin tug at the corners of his mouth. Despite the lump sitting in the bottom of his stomach he was happy to see Michael.

“I have to tell you something,” he said, nodding in the direction of Michael’s room.

“Okay.” Even though Vic wasn’t home he walked into his room, Ben following, and sat down on the bed.

Ben leaned back against the window frame. He looked around only to notice that his narrative was lying open on the desk. He almost wanted to ask Michael what he thought but the news he had was more pressing.

“Sam Patterson,” he said, “the trick that Vic’s been seeing lately, he ummm… he’s been fooling around with Brandon for a few months too. I kind of think he might have said something to Vic last week because he called Brandon this morning.”

“Ben.” Michael knew what was coming.

“Sam tested positive for HIV.”

“I know.”

Ben was stunned. “You know?”

Michael nodded slowly, “Vic told me after you left. He umm… he’s getting tested today. He didn’t want me to say anything about it, but since you already know I guess I can’t really do much harm.”

“Michael, I’m so sorry.”

Michael shook his head, “I don’t know what to say to him, even if he does end up being negative, and I can’t talk to Brian about it because he’ll tell my mom and she’s already got enough on her plate for the moment.”

Ben stared at his shoes as an uncomfortable silence fell over them.

“How’s Brandon?”

Ben looked up into Michael’s face. His eyes were dark with concern.

“He’s freaked,” Ben sighed, “Doesn’t want to go and get tested. I don’t think I can say that I blame him, but at the same time I really want to know that he doesn’t have it. It’s selfish but I…”

Michael nodded in understanding.

“I’m scared,” Michael said after a few moments.

Ben took a few shallow breaths and moved over to sit next to Michael on the bed. “Me too.”

Michael relaxed against him and they sat there together thinking about their own mortality as time passed.

Rooftops (Chapter Seven)

Sun, 10 Feb 2008 06:34:15 GMT

Title: Rooftops
Author: exmptfromsanity
Rating: T
Summary: At seventeen Michael is spending a little more than a month in New York with his uncle. While there he meets a twenty-year-old New York native named Ben. Both are surprised to find out how much they have in common. (Chapter 7 - A lot happens. Most importantly, Ben has a fight with his parents. give you one guess who he goes to for support.)
Notes/spoilers: Completely AU, takes place when Michael and Ben are high school and college age. (***The only reason this chapter is up so quickly is that it was already half written. Hopefully I'll be able to finish one more in the next 20 days because I won't have computer access for my entire spring break.)
Disclaimer: Owned by Showtime, Cowlip, etc. Not mine.

Rooftops
Chapter Seven
Exempt From Sanity

Michael hurried down the sidewalk in the direction of the Bruckners’ brownstone. He’d been at the gym a little longer than expected this morning, pushing himself to do just a little more. He hadn’t even realized that he was late until he had gotten out of the shower at Vic’s.

He was so preoccupied that he almost walked right by the front steps. Catching himself on the failing he took the steps two at a time and rang the doorbell.

He didn’t know what the plan was but Vic wasn’t home so they weren’t supposed to be in the apartment. Nevertheless he was in a pleasant mood.

Until the door opened.

Mr. Bruckner stood there, blocking Michael’s entrance to the house. It wasn’t that Mr. Bruckner had ever been particularly cruel to him but they both knew that he had heard what had been said in that kitchen.

“Michael.” His voice wasn’t exactly cold but it certainly wasn’t welcoming in any way.

“Hi Mr. Bruckner, I’m supposed to meet Ben-”

“He’s upstairs,” he said curtly, opening the door to let Michael past.

Michael darted past him and up the stairs without another word. He had no idea what about him Mr. Bruckner found so offensive, and thus no idea how to fix it. He also had no idea how to deal with fathers, having never had one of his own.

He reached the top of the stairs and ducked into Ben’s room, only to find it empty. He stood there for a moment before sticking his head out into the hall.

“Ben?” he called.

“In here,” a voice echoed from a few doors down.

Michael entered the new room to find Ben seated on the edge of a large mahogany desk as a printer spat out pieces of paper.

“What is this?” he asked.

“My mom’s office,” Ben replied. “I’m almost done.”

Michael looked around. He was almost uncomfortable being here. He wasn’t really sure how Ben’s mom felt about him. He would have walked right out if it had been Ben’s dad’s office.

Finally the printer ejected a final piece of paper and fell silent. Ben scooped up the pile and clipped them together, leaving them on the desk as he reached out for Michael. Using his belt loops he tugged Michael the few feet between them so that they were face to face and kissed him.

“How was the gym?”

“Good,” Michael said, “Think I’m gonna be sore later though.”

“Mmm…” Ben replied before kissing him again.

Michael pulled back a little, “Don’t you think we should go back to your room before we start this up?”

Ben pulled off an exaggerated sigh, “You take the fun out of everything.” He did, however, release his hold on Michael and pick up the document he had just printed, ushering Michael across the hall to his bedroom.

“It’s just, I don’t think your parents like me very much,” Michael pointed out.

Ben snorted, “My mother adores you.”

“Really?”

Ben nodded. “She thinks you’re the best thing that has ever happened to me. I mean, I had a boyfriend at school last year but it never got anything close to serious, and she’s sick of seeing me go out and party every night. She thinks you’ve really calmed me down.”

Michael had gotten what Ben had implied when he said party. He wasn’t disillusioned enough to think that Ben hadn’t been more like Brian than he was comfortable admitting before he’d come around.

“Calmed you down?” he raised a skeptical eyebrow as he sat down at Ben’s desk.

“She likes you.” Ben told him, taking a seat on the bed, “She also likes to think that her baby can do no wrong. Let’s just leave it at that.”

“What about your dad?”

Ben frowned, “I don’t really know what to say about him, Michael. He seems to be able to accept the fact that I’m gay but he’s never really been that supportive of me seeing anyone. He knows I’m not going to grow out of it, but I think he keeps hoping…” he trailed off for a moment. “Don’t take it personally. Especially with everything we’re fighting about this summer he’s just using you as another distraction.”

“Am I a distraction?”

“Yes,” Ben said immediately.

Michael frowned. That hadn’t been the response that he was hoping for.

“But I am so happy to have you as a distraction. Now, will you come over here rather than sitting all the way across the room.”

Michael grinned as he got up out of the chair and let Ben pull him down onto the bed.

“Here,” he handed Michael the collection of papers that he had printed out.

“What’s this?” Michael asked, not looking away from Ben.

“My narrative.” Ben said, “I want you to read it.”

Michael’s eyes widened a bit, “Are you sure?”

Ben nodded. “I trust you.”

Michael looked down at the thick document in his hands. “You have no idea how much you saying that means.”

Ben was quiet for a moment. This was one of the moments where he wished that he had known Michael longer. Things like this threw him because he had absolutely no idea what Michael meant, or what to say to him.

Carefully, he placed a hand under Michael’s chin, guiding him up to a warm kiss that quickly found Michael on his back with Ben pressed on top of him. His fingers found their way under the hem of Michael’s shirt, sliding carefully over his abs. Michael tipped his head back letting a laugh bubble through his lips, his fingers curling in the sleeves of Ben’s t-shirt.

However, as Ben shifted his weight Michael let out a pained groan. Immediately Ben shifted his weight so that none of it was pressed onto Michael.

“You weren’t kidding about being sore, were you?”

“I’m fine,” Michael insisted, “I just pulled something when I was lifting.”

“Well,” Ben sat down on the bed next to him, “What do you propose we do then?”

Michael scowled at him. “I’m fine, really.”

“I wouldn’t want to hurt you.” There was a smile behind Ben’s eyes now. “We could go watch a movie in the rec room.”

“If by go watch a movie you mean make out on the couch, then sure.”

“Mmm… you learn quickly,” Ben smirked, heading for the door.

Michael followed closely behind him. “So, are you working tomorrow?”

“No,” Ben said, “I have to on Thursday though, and then my parents want to have lunch and a ‘talk.’”

Michael looked at him hesitantly. “Talk?”

Ben sighed, “I’ve been promising my mother that I would talk to my Dad about things since I got home. I guess it’s just time to bite the bullet and do it.”

“You can come to Vic’s place if you need to get away after. I mean, I know after I fight with my mom I usually don’t want to be around her.”

Ben pulled him down onto the couch, “I’ll be fine.”

Sadly things never went quite as planned in the Bruckner house.

“So, classes are all set for next semester?” his mother asked him, “I know you said that you were having trouble getting into a few classes.”

“I went and got signatures from a few professors. I’ve had most of them before so they didn’t have a problem signing me in.”

“What classes are you taking?” His father asked, picking at the salad in front of him, not looking up.

“Well, my writing seminar,” Ben said, “obviously. And I’m also taking Argument and Persuasion, British Lit., Creative Nonfiction and my second philosophy.”

The fork stopped moving and Ben looked at his father.

“You told me you were taking a few politics courses this semester.”

“They don’t fit into my schedule.”

Both Ben and his mother jumped as his father suddenly banged his fists on the table, looking up to glare at Ben. “They should be all that’s in your schedule!”

Ben sat back in his chair. He wasn’t going to say anything if he didn’t have to.

“I expect a reply, young man.”

“I’m majoring in English.”

“At Yale?” his father sounded incredulous, “What the hell are you going to do with a degree in English, Benjamin? Teach at a high school? We’re paying good money for you to go there and you’re throwing it down the drain.”

“So stop paying; I’ll apply for more scholarships,” Ben snapped back, “I don’t have any interest in politics or law, Dad. I’m sorry to burst your bubble but I like to write and I’m good at it. And I want to write and teach college.”

“And you think I’m going to pay for that?”

“Peter,” his mother tried to stop the building argument.

“Of course not,” Ben snapped, “I would never be that irrational. I’m going to get tuition reimbursement somewhere and get a job on campus.”

“You need to do something practical.”

“I need to do something that I can halfway stand. I wanted to fucking cry every time I had to sit through that class last semester.”

“Ben, I told you when you started going there that I wasn’t going to let you waste your time with this writing thing.” Lunch was completely forgotten now. “Now, you only have two years left. You have to be careful and shape up, take the classes you need.”

“I am taking the classes that I need.”

“No, you’re at an Ivy League school and I expect you to take classes that are appropriate, that are going to enable you to send your kids there one day.”

Ben was almost tempted to ask ‘what kids,’ but he didn’t want to make his mother upset as well.

“Even if it wasn’t law, Mr. Dean would have taken you on at his firm this summer. That experience would have been invaluable. But no, you’re staying at that cheap hole-in-the-wall where you’ll probably end up bussing tables for the rest of your life with the degree you’re going for, and spending every other waking moment with that piece of trash.”

Ben stood up abruptly, knocking his chair to the floor.

“Fuck you.” He said very clearly to his father. “I don’t know where you get off passing judgments on other people but I am happy with Michael, and I am happy writing. And you know what, I would rather work at the café until the day I die than end up as miserable as you.”

He was so incredibly fucked. Saying that had to be pretty unforgivable. Instead of waiting for a response he used the moment of silence to dart past his mother and head toward the front door,

“Ben,” his mother called after him, but he just kept going. He needed to get out.

He ran a few blocks, until he was sure they hadn’t followed him, before slowing down. He pulled a cigarette out of the pack in his pocket and lit it. His hands were shaking and he wondered if even the nicotine rush would calm him down. He needed to be by himself and clear his head for a while. And there was no way that he was going back to that house today, but for now he couldn’t deal with anyone, not even Michael.

Michael didn’t even quicken his pace as the knocking at the door became frantic. It was just past ten and he’d already opened the door on three separate occasions to tell Vic’s friends that he was stuck at work and would meet them at the club when he finally got out.

“Vic’s-” he began, opening the door. Even as he saw who it was and tried to stop himself his voice continued, “-not here.”

Ben managed to grin at him, “I wasn’t really looking for him, but we can go chill up on the roof if you aren’t comfortable without him here.”

Michael rolled his eyes and held open the door to let Ben in. He really hadn’t expected to see him, especially not looking as down as he did.

“Are you okay?” he asked, shutting the door.

Ben flopped against the arm of the couch and waited until Michael sat down next to him before speaking.

“I had that talk with my dad.”

“Oh,” Michael replied quietly, “It didn’t go well, I guess.”

“That’s an understatement,” Ben agreed. “We ended up screaming at each other. Technically, I’m pretty sure I heard him screaming that I was grounded as I left the house but I don’t think that works now that I’m in college.”

He sighed, reaching out and resting a hand on Michael’s forearm.

Michael looked up at Ben, finally really seeing his face. His eyes were rimmed in red as though he had been crying and he looked away quickly.

Michael shifted the way he was sitting and leaned over Ben, pressing a kiss to his cheek, “I’m sorry.”

He relaxed his weight on top of Ben, wrapping his arms up around his neck. Ben hugged him back as they made themselves comfortable.

“God, I can only imagine the screaming that’s going to go on when I get home,” he muttered.

“So, don’t go.” Michael laid his head on Ben’s chest as Ben’s fingers tangled though his hair.

“Stay here?”

“Why not?” Michael asked, “Vic’s going out, and working in the morning. And considering the fact that he hasn’t felt the need to check on me since I was nine or ten I think we’ll be okay.”

“Are you sure we can pull it off?” Ben asked.

Michael nodded.

Ben sat up and kissed Michael lightly. “You know I love you, right?”

A small grin grew on Michael’s face and he leaned down to kiss Ben again.

Ben hadn’t expected a response but slid his hands around Michael’s back, holding him close.

It was hours later that they finally made their way to Michael’s room. Michael left the door open slightly. It was Vic’s rule that they weren’t supposed to close it when they were in Michael’s room alone, so in the odd case that he chose to check on them they wouldn’t be in more trouble than they were already.

It was now that Michael was beginning to second guess his invitation. The only other guy he had ever really shared a bed with was Brian, and that was different. He wasn’t sure if the invitation had implied anything. Despite what had happened at Brandon’s party the previous weekend and the fact that he and Ben had spent the evening wrapped around each other he couldn’t help but blush a little as Ben tugged his shirt up and over his head. He had obviously been working out more and more this summer.

There was a lump forming in his throat as he undid the button on his jeans. His mind was wandering and as Ben’s hand came down on his shoulder he jumped.

Ben let out a chuckle. “Hey,” he said quietly, sensing Michael’s uneasiness, “I’m not going to make you do anything that you don’t want to do.”

Michael let Ben hug him from behind as he nodded in response.

If Ben was being honest with himself he knew that Michael wasn’t ready for anything, and after they day he’d had he knew he was more exhausted than anything else.

He finished undressing and climbed into Michael’s bed. Michael slid into bed next to him and Ben immediately wrapped an arm around him, resuming very much the position they had been in on the couch, Michael’s back pressed to Ben’s chest.

“I’m only here for another two weeks,” Michael said.

“Shh…” Ben’s arm tightened across his chest. “I know.”

“I wish New York and Pittsburgh were closer together,” Michael continued quietly.

Ben shifted so that Michael fell onto his back, so that they could look one another in the face. “Is there another time of year that you come to visit Vic?”

Michael shook his head, “Sometimes over my February break but this year I’ll have to be working, and you’d be away at school anyway.”

Ben nodded, trying to imagine not seeing Michael for such long stretches of time.

“I’ve got a long break over Columbus day weekend,” he said in a hushed voice, leaning down closer to Michael. “Maybe I can come down for a long weekend.”

“Are you serious?”

“Of course.”

A wide smile pulled across Michael’s face.

“Though, I wonder if your mother’s rules will be as strict as your uncle’s,” Ben mused, once again pulling Michael close.

Michael chuckled, “She’ll just be glad that I’m bringing home someone who isn’t Brian.”

Ben smiled too, leaning in and kissing Michael, knowing they should be getting some sleep.

Vic rolled onto his back, slamming his hand down on the buzzing alarm clock. The trick sleeping next to him hadn’t even stirred. He looked at the young man for a moment, the same one whom he had found sleeping in his bed on several occasions now.

Sam was a great lay, but he marveled at how much the young man got by without a real job, sleeping the hours that he did. He didn’t want to sound egotistical but Vic was proud to have a job that paid as well as his did.

He pushed himself out of bed without disturbing the other sleeping figure and headed for the solitude of the shower, enjoying the relaxed pace he could set in order to be ready for work. After letting the hot water undo the damage of the night before he pulled on a pair of pants before making his way to the kitchen for his first cup of coffee. The timer on the machine never failed him, and the streaming liquid was ready.

As he took that first exquisite sip from the mug his eyes caught on the guest room door. It was ajar.

That was odd. It was usually too early for him to be out of bed, but he hadn’t known Michael to be up at this hour since he had been a child. And Michael always slept with the door tightly closed. Even in the event that it was ajar by mistake he knew Sam tended to be pretty loud when he went on his way in the mornings so he walked over to check in quickly, and shut the door.

As his hand settled on the doorknob he peeked inside the room. His heart stopped.

Michael was rolled onto his side near the edge of the bed, one leg sticking out from underneath the sheet. But the problem was he wasn’t alone. His back was pressed firmly up against Ben’s chest, and the older boy was curled up behind him, one arm wrapped protectively around Michael. Both were shirtless but he couldn’t tell anything beyond that.

What startled him was how intimate they looked.

In fact, it startled him so much that he dropped his coffee mug, and it shattered as it hit the floorboards.

Michael had always been a heavy sleeper, but Ben surprised him by starting awake immediately. He jerked up into a semi-sitting position, though his arm never moved from around Michael, and his eyes locked almost immediately with Vic’s.

“Fuck,” Vic muttered quietly, bringing a hand up and pinching the bridge of his nose. This was going to cause problems on so many levels.

Finally he opened his eyes. Ben was still staring at him.

“Did you two…” he trailed off, assuming the implication spoke for itself.

Ben shook his head.

Vic sighed, well, at least he didn’t have to deal with that hurdle yet.

“So, you’ve each got at least a pair of boxers on under there?” He didn’t know why he was keeping his voice down, perhaps as not to wake Michael.

Ben nodded.

Vic sighed again, nodding. “I expect you to still be here when I get back from work. There have to be consequences for this.”

Ben nodded again, he understood.

Vic walked back to the kitchen to fetch some paper towels to clean up the coffee. When he returned to the open doorway Ben had climbed out of bed. He was only wearing a pair of boxers but it was more than Vic had expected.

“Be careful, don’t cut yourself on the mug,” he warned, noting Ben’s bare feet.

Mentally he was kicking himself, when had he become such a father? Oh, that’s right, the day Michael was born and Debbie had handed him his nephew. That was a hell of a lot of pressure to put on a fifteen year old.

Once the coffee was mopped up and the broken pieces of the mug were cleared away Ben followed him into the living room.

“You should know better,” Vic told him, his voice a bit louder.

Ben nodded. He looked appropriately ashamed, “Are you going to tell my parents?”

Vic just looked at him.

“I didn’t uhh… tell them that I stayed here last night but I think they might kind of assume.”

Vic sighed heavily, “Why did you stay here?”

“I had a fight with my dad.”

“I’ll tell them you slept on the couch,” Vic promised.

“Thank you.”

“But don’t think that you’re getting off easy with me.”

“Of course not.”

“It’s early; you should get some more sleep.”

Ben nodded, pausing for a moment before starting toward the couch.

Vic grabbed him by the arm and, knowing he would probably regret it later, pointed back in the direction of Michael’s room.

Ben looked at him questioningly.

“Just go before I change my mind.”

Ben didn’t need to be told twice, he made his way quickly to Michael’s room, this time closing the door securely behind him.

Vic sighed again and went to pour himself a new cup of coffee. Today was going to be a very long day at work.

As Ben climbed back into bed Michael stirred, rolling over and mumbling groggily at Ben.

“Where’d you go?”

“Bathroom,” Ben kissed his cheek, settling into the bed and draping his arm over Michael once again.

“Careful,” Michael muttered, rolling over so that he was facing Ben. He let Ben pull him close before he continued, “don’t want Vic to catch us.”

Ben smiled to himself before pressing another kiss to Michael’s forehead.

“Go back to sleep.”

Michael’s breathing evened out in the next minute, his face buried against Ben’s chest. Ben held him close as he made himself comfortable once again. Both of his arms wrapped around Michael’s smaller frame. He felt secure here, and safe. There was something about being with Michael that took away all of the shit that he was going through at home. He hoped that he had the same effect on Michael, especially with all he seemed to be going through right now.

He relaxed, suddenly realizing how tired he was. He’d been stressing out for far too long and this was his first chance to relax. Letting his eyes close he felt himself slipping back into unconsciousness.

Rooftops (Chapter Six)

Tue, 05 Feb 2008 03:23:48 GMT

exmptfromsanity

Rooftops

Chapter 6

Hotshot

Ben was sitting alone in his room staring at the screen of his computer. It was barely eleven o’clock and he should have been out with Michael, or in the least out with his friends, somewhere far away from the threat of having a run-in with his parents.

Instead he was still sitting in his room, alone, listening to his parents come in from their night on the town.

It was finished; he was amazed by that fact. He had been stuck on his writing for weeks, nearly since the first time he had spoken to Michael he’d been at a dead standstill. This morning had been different. Words had suddenly spilled forth. He’d only stopped to hop in the shower, interrupting himself, because he knew that Michael was coming over.

If he really admitted it to himself he knew that Michael was the reason he had been inspired to finish writing. It was something that he had said on the roof of Vic’s building a few nights before. Ben couldn’t even remember the words.

After recounting his friendship with Brian Michael had talked about his family. He had said something about Debbie that stuck with Ben. He had talked about how much he really did love his mother and that being why she drove him crazy.

Ben’s piece was about coming out, about accepting himself as a teenager and a young adult, and about becoming himself as he showed himself to the people around him. It was about loving himself and his family and friends, and that being what drove him crazy. It was so out there, but yet, when he worked it all out on paper it made perfect sense.

It had all just clicked into place.

But then Ben had walked back into his room, half dressed to find Michael sitting at his computer, reading his words off of the screen. He’d gone off on Michael.

It wasn’t finished yet, or even edited, and Ben rarely allowed anyone other than professors the opportunity to look at his work in such early stages. It made him nervous.

Even now Michael’s questions bounced back at him like thorns.

"I thought you wanted to be published," Michael had argued as he got up out of the chair, backing across Ben’s bedroom and away from him.

Of course. That was Ben’s dream and he’d said so.

"Well, don’t you realize that if you get published people are going to read your work? They’re going to make comments on it, good and bad."

"It’s private," he’d insisted, "You had no right."

"I’m sorry Ben," Michael apologized, "I just wandered in here and it was open on the screen. You’re always talking about your writing and how much your dad hates it so I thought it might be nice to, you know, show some interest."

"I don’t want you reading it!" Ben’s words had come out sounding a lot more angry and aggressive than he had meant them to.

Michael’s eyes had gotten wide.

"Fine." And then he’d just turned and left the room.

Right now Ben still felt a little bit pissed at the betrayal of his privacy, but deeper than that he knew that he needed to find Michael and apologize, especially for the way that he had acted, for everything, really.

He was startled out of his thoughts by a knock at his door. He looked up as his father stuck his head into the room.

"What are you sitting in the dark for?" he asked, as Ben’s only source of light was that of the computer screen.

Ben shrugged. "Thinking."

He blinked as his father flipped on the light switch.

"I thought you were going out with Michael tonight?" There were no feelings in his father’s voice associated with the question. He’d made his position on Michael perfectly clear on the fourth and now he just treated him as some kind of inanimate object.

Ben shrugged again, "We had an argument. I finished my piece for next year’s seminar though."

His father nodded at the information.

"Maybe it’s for the best," he said, "You can focus some more on your other schoolwork in your free time now instead of going out every night."

"Sure Dad," Ben said, suddenly feeling sick to his stomach over what he had said to Michael.

"You didn’t need the distractions anyway," his father continued.

Ben just nodded. It was too late at night to start this argument with his father again.

His father looked as though he was about to say something further but then just backed out of the room.

Ben looked back at the computer screen, rereading his last few paragraphs a few times. He sighed and shut off his computer. In the morning he had to work and in the afternoon it might be a good idea to start editing… or maybe it would be better to go and find Michael.

By the time he did get out of work the next afternoon Ben couldn’t even think about editing his narrative. He needed to do something to relieve the stress he was feeling over the situation with his parents, Michael, and this writing seminar he was trying to prepare for.

It almost made him smile to see that he had an e-mail from Brandon advertising a party that night. That could be exactly what he needed to take the edge off of his miserable feelings.

But then he saw the end of the e-mail. It was like a slap in the face.

‘Bring Michael. Don’t think I haven’t seen you running up to that apartment every day. I want someone to share embarrassing Ben stories with.’

Ben stared for a moment before closing the e-mail and getting up to pull on a clean t-shirt. That was it. He had to go to Michael’s.

As he walked up the stairs of the apartment building he realized that Vic was probably at work, and wondered if Michael would even open the door. He certainly couldn’t blame him if he didn’t. He knocked anyway.

To say the least it startled him when the door opened and a tall, shirtless brunette stood in the doorway. His eyes stared straight through Ben, or at least they seemed to. He was too young for Vic, but Ben could barely believe that Michael had gone out and…

"So, are you going to come in or not?"

This guys voice was smooth an even and he hadn’t even asked why Ben was there. Despite his fears Ben found himself stepping inside. The stranger shut the door and passed by him to walk into the living room. He collapsed onto the couch as though he lived there.

Ben stared. The two of them were nothing alike. This guy had dark hair and was nearly as tall as Ben but thin as a rail. At the same time Ben could understand what Michael saw in him, especially as he wasn’t wearing a shirt.

He had just pulled together something to say to the stranger when there was a noise further into the apartment.

"Christ, I can’t believe you didn’t tell me that you were going to come-" Michael spoke loudly as he came out of the bathroom from the shower. He had on a pair of jeans and was holding a shirt in his hand, though he abruptly froze as he took in the scene before him.

"Ben?"

"Hey," Ben replied, now even more concerned with the scene he had walked in on. "I came to uhh… talk to you about yesterday but," he glanced pointedly at the stranger, "I guess now really isn’t a good time."

Michael didn’t even glance back at his guest. "I didn’t think I’d be seeing you again after last night."

"Because we all know Michael has trouble holding onto anything," came the mocking voice from the couch.

"Shut up, Brian," Michael snapped, his head whipping around for just a moment.

"Brian?" Ben asked, more to himself than to anyone else. He knew the name and really did hope that this was just Michael’s friend from home.

"Yeah, he surprised me and came up to visit for the weekend," Michael clarified, "Ben Bruckner, Brian Kinney."

Neither of them really looked at one another as he introduced them.

"Oh," Brian smirked, getting up off of the couch, "So you’re the big college boy that Mikey’s been going on about all week."

That seemed to annoy Michael, "Brian, will you fuck off and give me, like, ten minutes."

As Brian walked between the two of them he brushed particularly close to Ben. "Don’t worry, with Michael it’s always really easy to kiss and make up."

He paused, leaving a slobbery kiss on Michael’s check before disappearing into his bedroom and closing the door.

Michael just stared after him until the door closed. The frown stayed on his face as he turned back to face Ben.

"What are you doing here?" he asked as he finally seemed able to move again, pulling his shirt on over his head.

"I want to apologize, for last night," Ben began. "Michael, I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. I didn’t mean to be such an asshole to you and it was stupid."

"Yeah, it was," Michael agreed.

Ben stared for a moment. Michael seemed agitated. He couldn’t tell if it was because of his visit or Brian’s.

"It’s just, my writing is this big, personal thing. I overreacted when you were reading it because it’s not something that I hand over to just anyone. It would be like me getting involved with your arguments with your mother."

He noticed that Michael’s eyes flicked briefly toward his bedroom door.

"You wouldn’t have any right to get involved. You don’t know-"

"Neither do you," Ben interrupted, fighting to keep his voice down.

"I said I was sorry last night. I’m not going to keep apologizing."

"Okay," Ben said. "I won’t ask you to. I really don’t want you to hate me because I lost it for a few minutes."

Michael took a deep breath. Between Brian being here and the yelling Ben had done at him last night he was exhausted and stressed beyond what he was used to dealing with, even at home.

"Ben," he sighed, "I couldn’t hate you no matter what you had done. I just…" another deep breath, "I can’t deal with all of this right now."

Ben nodded. He didn’t know what Michael meant.

"Tell you what, Brandon’s having another party tonight. He told me to bring you. Why don’t you bring Brian down with you and have a good time. And you and I can talk when you’re ready."

Michael nodded.

Ben turned and left the apartment without another word.

"I don’t want to go," Michael said from his bed.

"We’re going," Brian told him, zipping up his jeans. "I didn’t come here to spend a boring night at home playing cards with you and Vic."

"It’s a Friday night," Michael reminded him.

"Fine. I’m not here to sneak out to that club with you and run into Vic in the backroom. Is that better?"

Michael scowled at his friend.

Brian grinned at him as he pulled a shirt out of his bag and shrugged it on.

Michael remained sitting on his bed, watching Brian admire himself in the mirror, adjusting his black, buttoned shirt. He looked hot.

"How the hell did you afford that?" he asked.

"Don’t worry about it." Brian met his eyes in the mirror. "Aren’t you going to change?"

Michael stared back. "I told you, we’re not going. And even if we were this is probably the nicest thing that I brought with me."

Brian snorted and began digging through his bag again. A red shirt surfaced and he threw it at Michael.

"You’re pathetic."

Michael looked at the shirt and then back at Brian.

"I brought it for you. You’ll look hot in it, don’t worry." Brian grinned as he opened Michael’s bedroom window and lit a cigarette.

"Brian-"

"I said, don’t worry about it," Brian assured him, "My job gave me some extra cash and you and Debbie need to talk."

Michael looked up, "What? Brian, what happened?"

Brian just shook his head and Michael got up off of the bed. "Tell me."

"She lost her job at the department store," he said, holding the cigarette away from himself, "She’s just working at the diner now."

"Fuck." As Michael peeled off his shirt and pulled on the one Brian had bought him all of the anger at his mother and at Ben fizzled out.

"There’s nothing you can do about it," Brian told him, "So don’t even think about it until you go home."

"She’s not planning to tell me, is she?" he asked.

"Probably not until you get home," Brian confirmed, "You change your mind about the party?"

"I want to go down and talk to Ben."

Brian stared at him. "What is it about this guy?"

"He got really pissed yesterday. I was reading something on his computer that was private, and, I mean, I was never really mad at him. The way he yelled at me just added onto all the stress that’s been piling on all summer."

"So why bother?" Brian asked, "You’re leaving in three weeks."

Michael didn’t answer. Brian wouldn’t really understand. He’d always held a special spot for Brian but Ben was so different.

"Ready to go?" Brian asked.

Michael sighed. "Yeah, I guess."

The door to the apartment swung open and Brandon stood in the doorway, drink in hand.

"Michael!" he greeted warmly, stepping forward to hug him. His eyes then traveled quickly up and down Brian’s frame.

Michael tried not to roll his eyes, "Brandon, this is Brian, my best friend from home. Brian, this is Brandon."

Brian’s greeting didn’t surprise him at all.

"Please tell me you have some decent booze in there."

Brandon laughed as he ushered them inside, "Of course. Come on, let me get you a drink. Michael, do you want anything?"

"I’m fine," Michael said, "Is Ben here yet?"

Brandon simply gestured vaguely across the room before guiding Brian away. Michael shook his head. Brandon was clearly a bit enamored with Brian. This was going to make things interesting.

He grabbed a cup of whatever beer was floating around and made his way slowly through the crowd.

Ben was leaning against the far wall, talking with a few guys who Michael didn’t recognize. When he finally reached them he simply leaned against the wall next to Ben. Ben barely glanced at him.

"I move back in the twenty-fourth of August," Ben said. "It can’t come soon enough. I can’t wait to get away from my family."

"Take a summer class with me next year," one of them said, "Paying board actually isn’t that bad."

"Yeah," Ben glanced at Michael again. "I’ll think about it."

"You’d better," the guy bid him goodbye and started across the room toward someone else.

"I didn’t think you guys were actually going to come," he said without looking at Michael.

"Like Brian would ever pass up the chance to go to a party," Michael said, his eyes crossing the room to find Brian with Brandon pressed up against a wall. "Looks like things aren’t that different here."

"It’s kind of hard to wrap my head around the fact that you’re friends with someone like him. The way he pushed you around when I was there, manipulated you."

"I’m friends with you, aren’t I?"

Ben finally looked at Michael. He was right; they had really just been getting along and not making their intentions clear since they’d met. "Touché."

Michael stepped away from the wall and turned to face Ben, "Earlier, I was stressing out over Brian just showing up and… some other stuff going on. I’m sorry."

"Prove it." Ben knew that they couldn’t fall back into just getting along. They had to want this for it to work.

Michael knew this too. He took a deep breath. He had to do something here so he just stopped thinking and acted.

He stepped forward, wrapping a hand up behind Ben’s neck and kissing him hard, forcing his tongue past Ben’s lips. His forward momentum actually knocked Ben back against the wall.

He hoped that this was the kind of response Ben had been looking for and was pleasantly surprised when Ben started to kiss back, wrapping his arms tightly around Michael’s lower back.

After a moment Ben began pushing him, forcing both of them back a few steps. Michael’s back hit the table that was placed behind Brandon’s couch, but he was too wrapped up in the kiss to really care. Ben surprised him again, lifting him up and setting him on the table so that they were more face to face.

That caught some attention. There were several catcalls and someone jeered, "get a room."

Ben tore his lips from Michael’s for a moment and growled, "Fuck off."

It sent a shiver down Michael’s spine. He never wanted that tone of Ben’s voice directed at him but at the same time it was possessive and made his heart skip a beat or two.

Ben’s lips pressed back against Michael’s neck, tongue sliding out over the sensitive skin before his teeth dug in. Michael let out a groan, not really caring who was staring or listening. This was the kind of setting he could be comfortable with Ben in. His hand tangled up into Ben’s hair, tugging his head back up and crashing their lips together.

"Fuck," Ben grunted.

He pulled Michael forward on the table, pressing his hips to Michael’s.

Michael opened his eyes for just a moment, but just long enough to lock eyes with Brian, who was watching from across the room. He was staring, but not with the same look as everyone else. The look in his eyes was more predatory. It wasn’t a look that Michael was accustomed to seeing across his friend’s features.

He pulled back just a little.

"Ben," he managed, "Can we…"

"Yeah," Ben already seemed to know what he’d meant and didn’t even give Michael a chance to get down off of the table. He picked him up and carried him far too easily into Brandon’s guest room, kicking the door closed behind them. He dropped Michael onto the bed without much ceremony and made sure the door was securely closed before climbing on top of him.

Michael pulled him in again, wrapping his legs up around Ben’s middle as they fell into a comfortable silence.

Ben broke it by groaning, pushing his hips down against Michael’s.

His actions forced Michael to move. He pulled away, pushing at Ben to get him to roll off of him. Once Ben was on his back Michael began kissing at his neck and slowly working his way down, his hands reaching for Ben’s belt.

Ben stopped him almost immediately. "Michael, you don’t have to."

"I want to," Michael told him, "I wouldn’t if I didn’t."

Ben seemed hesitant but Michael was determined. He pushed Ben’s hand out of the way and continued with the task he had set before himself. He pushed down on Ben’s jeans and wrapped a hand around him and leaned up, giving him a searing kiss.

Ben’s hand remained relaxed around the back of Michael’s head as he descended, tightening in his hair as Michael’s lips closed around Ben’s cock. He grunted , struggling not to lift his hips off of the mattress.

Michael grinned, his hands digging into Ben’s hips, because Ben was actually responding to everything he did. He took more of Ben into his mouth, moving slowly, purposefully.

Ben could barely form a coherent thought though he did force out a strained groan of, "Michael," in warning.

Michael pulled back and with a few quick strokes of his hand finished Ben off. He smirked, rolling half onto Ben and kissing his shoulder as Ben tried to catch his breath.

"There is no way I was nearly that good at that when I was seventeen," he gasped.

Michael frowned a bit, as he hated their difference in age being referenced to. But he forced a grin to his lips as he replied, "I blame it on the fact that I grew up with Brian."

"Hmm…"Ben mused, "I think I’m going to stick with my assumption that you’re just naturally talented." He turned his head just slightly and kissed Michael.

"So, am I forgiven?" Michael asked, "For reacting this morning and for reading your work?"

"Yeah," Ben nodded before he started laughing, "Does that make this make up sex?"

Michael began to laugh too, "Only if you return the favor."

Ben’s laughing slowed as he raised an eyebrow, "I can do that."

He quickly pushed Michael over onto his back, earning him something akin to a pleased groan from Michael.

There was no fanfare when they left the bedroom much to both of their happiness. Another couple was ready and waiting to push their way inside. Ben grabbed them both drinks and guided Michael over to a group of his friends from school, introducing him and striking up a conversation about classes.

When Michael finally spotted Brian again he and Brandon were coming out of Brandon’s bedroom and Brian had a smug smirk cross his face. Michael squeezed Ben’s hand and began walking toward his friend.

Ben looked up as Michael walked off and chuckled as Brandon joined them.

"Have a good time?" he asked Brandon as Michael tried to steer Brian away from the alcohol without much success.

Brandon nodded, taking a sip of his drink, "I think it’s a first."

"What is?"

Brandon just tilted his head to the side, giving Ben a look.

"You let him top?"

"He’s a persuasive little son of a bitch," Brandon told him. "And what about you and Michael? That was a nice little show the two of you put on."

Ben shook his head, "Don’t worry about it."

He wasn’t going to give his friends anything to gossip about. They were all going to think what they wanted no matter what he said anyway.

He glanced over Brandon’s shoulder toward where Michael was arguing with his slightly belligerent friend, and obviously losing as Brian was holding a bottle of something.

As Ben made his way over Michael as Brian drained half of the bottle.

"Oh, you’re going to be pleasant in the morning," Michael muttered, shaking his head.

Brian shrugged and walked off amid the crowd. Ben just wrapped an arm around him, guiding him back toward a larger group of people.

"Don’t worry about him right now. You’re here to have a good time."

Michael was also fairly intoxicated by the time they left. Ben walked upstairs with them, making plans with Michael for after Brian left. He figured that it was a good idea to give him some time with his friend.

Michael unlocked the door before turning to Ben again. "Are you sure I won’t see you tomorrow?"

Brian rolled his eyes. "I’m going to bed, Mikey. Don’t be out here all night."

And then he grabbed Michael and kissed him, right on the lips, before slipping past him, sending Ben a predatory look and disappearing into the apartment.

Michael didn’t even seem thrown by it, but then, it had been a long night and they had fought about more than enough issues.

"I’ll come by after work on Monday," he told Michael as he leaned down, pressing a kiss to Michael’s lips.

Michael clung to him for a moment, not wanting the night to end. Ben didn’t want it to either. He pressed himself onto his tiptoes and kissed Ben once more, letting himself be pressed back against the doorframe.

"Monday," Michael nodded when Ben finally pulled back.

Ben smiled and headed back downstairs to the party.

When Monday morning rolled around Michael was completely ready for the phone call he received.

"Why didn’t you tell me you had a boyfriend?"

"Hi Ma," he said, trying to bite back a grin.

"I’m waiting."

Michael shrugged even though he knew that his mother couldn’t see it. "I thought Uncle Vic might have told you, and I knew Brian would when he got home."

"But you didn’t."

"Ma, it’s not a big deal. It’s not even very serious. I’m coming home at the end of the month so it’s not going to last very long."

"It’s still better than Brian coming into my house with tricks every night."

"Okay," Michael agreed. She was right, it was.

"So, come on, I want to hear about him."

Michael flushed, "His name’s Ben. He’s in college."

"Where?"

"Yale."

"Yale?" She seemed a bit shocked.

"Yeah," Michael repeated, "He’s really smart and uhh…" he stumbled over his words, getting a little bit uncomfortable with where this conversation could possibly be heading.

"Can we talk about something else?"

His mother was quiet for a moment. Obviously she wanted to ask more questions but he could be just as stubborn as she was.

Finally she spoke again, "Why does Brian have a black eye."

Michael sighed. One of the first things he had asked Brian was if his parents knew that he was in New York. Brian had said yes, but then Brian lied a lot.

"I don’t know Ma, maybe one of his tricks elbowed him in the eye or something."

"Michael, it’s a fucking shiner. I know what that looks like."

"I don’t know, Mom." Michael said. He wasn’t going to tell his mother what was going on in Brian’s life. He and Brian very rarely talked about it with more than just looks, and although he was sure his mother knew exactly what was going on it was his place to say anything.

"Michael Charles…" she began, "don’t give me that bullshit."

"Ma," Michael made an effort to make himself sound rushed, "Ben’s at the door. I’ve got to go. I’ll call you in a few days."

"Uh huh." There was no way she believed him.

"Bye."

"Love you too, Sweetheart."

He hung up and collapsed back across the bed. That was the good part, Ben was coming over in a few short hours and he was three weeks away from having to deal with his mother.

Rooftop (Chapter 5)

Thu, 10 Jan 2008 04:24:19 GMT

Title: Rooftops
Author: </a></b></a>exmptfromsanity
Rating: T
Summary: At seventeen Michael is spending a little more than a month in New York with his uncle. While there he meets a twenty-year-old New York native named Ben. Both are surprised to find out how much they have in common. (Chapter 5 - Michael finally meets Ben's parents and has an interesting afternoon. His grades arrive in Pittsburgh.)
Notes/spoilers: Completely AU, takes place when Michael and Ben are high school and college age.
Disclaimer: Owned by Showtime, Cowlip, etc. Not mine.</font>

Rooftops

Chapter 5

Exempt From Sanity

Vic’s hand rested on Michael’s shoulder as they approached the brownstone. Michael could barely grasp the concept of having a place like that in the city. The most he could even begin to fathom was the penthouse lofts Vic had looked at years ago. He stared up at the Bruckner residence with a look of awe.

“Try not to look too surprised when we get inside,” Vic told him. “You know, that Ivy League school Ben goes to isn’t cheap. Did you really think everyone goes to school on scholarship?”

“No, but I didn’t quite expect this,” Michael admitted.

“Well, let’s go inside and find your boyfriend and hope the shock wears off.” He began walking up the front steps.

Michael hurried after him, catching up just as his uncle knocked on the front door. It opened almost immediately and a thin woman with Ben’s eyes opened the door.

Her eyes went immediately to Michael.

“You must be Vic Grassi.” She shook hands with him and shifted her gaze, “and you must be Michael.”

He nodded, “Yes ma’am.”

“Well, come on in. Almost everyone is out in the backyard. Michael, you should be able to find Ben somewhere out there.”

“Thanks,” Michael replied, throwing his uncle a look as the two of them struck up a conversation, and made his way through the house.

As he emerged into the backyard he stared again. It was much larger than he had expected, just like the house. He shook off the feeling as best he could and began to wander around the backyard in search of Ben.

There were so many people, most of them older. He felt horribly underdressed, except when he saw the occasional friend of Ben’s. He was just about to turn around and go back into the house when an arm caught him around the waist.

“I saw Vic so I figured you’d be out here somewhere.”

Michael turned in Ben’s arms and went to kiss him hello but caught himself and hesitated. He wouldn’t have dared kiss Ben back in Pittsburgh, not in public.

But Ben didn’t seem to have the same reservations.

“What?” he asked when Michael hesitated. Without waiting for a reply he pressed his lips against Michael’s.

It was quick, but it was a kiss nonetheless. Michael felt himself blush slightly.

“Mmm… I missed you,” he told Ben.

Ben grinned. It had only been a day and a half but seeing Michael definitely improved his mood.

“Come on,” he said, “I’ll introduce you to some of my friends,” he sighed, “my parents.”

“I already met your mom actually,” Michael said, chuckling because Ben already seemed embarrassed, “She let me and Vic in when we got here.”

“I’m sorry you had to suffer through that,” Ben apologized, guiding Michael through the crowd. Michael tightened his grip on Ben’s hand. He felt like people were staring, probably more than they actually were, and it made him slightly uncomfortable. Things were so different here. The only reason he could remain relaxed was knowing that Ben was open about who he was and so many of his friend were there.

Ben stopped at the grill, finding Vic talking to his father about cooking techniques, explaining something about the meat on the grill to him. His father wasn’t one to listen to people, and he’d never met Vic before, but he was focused on listening to the younger man.

Vic seemed to notice him staring because he fell silent and cleared his throat, nodding at the two of them.

Both of Ben’s parents turned to where Michael stood next to Ben. Mrs. Bruckner smiled at both of them.

Michael was startled by the resemblance. Ben was the spitting image of his father though his hair was certainly lighter with age. He was staring down at Michael with the same intense gaze Ben also directed at him. Michael shifted uncomfortably, tightening his grip on Ben’s hand.

“Mom, Dad, I see you’ve already met Vic, but umm… this is Michael.”

“Nice to meet you,” Michael said quietly. His mother had at least instilled good manners in him, though he wasn’t very familiar with this situation.

Mrs. Bruckner’s smile widened, “Ben’s been talking about you all morning, Michael. I hope the two of you don’t plan on hiding out at your uncle’s apartment all summer. You’re just as welcome here.”

“Good to meet you Michael,” Mr. Bruckner’s greeting was much firmer, though not unfriendly.

He did however turn to Vic, “Mr. Grassi, with these two spending so much time at your apartment while you’re at work don’t you expect they could get into trouble?”

Vic looked at them both for a moment, “It’s Vic, please. And to be perfectly honest Daniel, kids at their age, gay or straight, are going to find a way to cause whatever kind of trouble they are up for. There are rules in my apartment. Michael, your son and I discussed them the other night, and my nephew knows better than to break them.”

Michael nodded, ducking his head. He and Brian had certainly gotten in trouble for breaking a few rules the summer before and he wasn’t keen on reliving the experience. The worst punishment of all had been the look of disappointment in Vic’s eyes.

“How about you, Ben?” Vic asked.

“No Sir,” Ben replied, “I don’t plan to break them.

“Good boy,” Mr. Bruckner replied. “I guess the four of us will have to sit down and set some ground rules sometime in the future.”

“We should make ourselves scarce then, I guess.” Ben nodded to his parents and to Vic before he and Michael walked off.

“Well, that was kind of intense,” Michael said quietly.

“Yeah,” Ben scratched a hand over the back of his neck, “my parents can be a little much. Overprotective.”

“You forget that you haven’t met my mother yet,” Michael reminded him.

Ben smiled. “Listen, I have to go schmooze some of my dad’s business partners. You know, be the smart, successful son he likes to show off.”

He rolled his eyes dramatically. “I’ll be back around in a bit. I hate to tell you to entertain yourself but I promised him I would… be that kid.”

Michael smiled, “Go. I’ll keep myself busy.”

Ben gave him a smile, letting go of his hand before he walked away.

Michael watched Ben strike up a conversation with an older gentleman. He felt a twinge of jealousy deep within himself. He had never known his own father and had no moments like this, making someone proud like Ben. Ben was smart and gregarious, and what his mother must have dreamed of him being.

He knew he should probably tell Ben about his father.

“Hey,” Brandon’s hand clamped down on his shoulder .

Michael looked up at him, “Hey Brandon.”

“So,” Brandon passed a full cup to Michael, “I hear you and Ben are seeing each other, or whatever the popular term for that is nowadays.”

“Um yeah,” Michael took a sip of the drink. The alcohol taste was faint but Michael nodded his appreciation.

“That’s good,” Brandon said. “He really needs someone to ground him right now. I uhh… also want to apologize for my party. Things don’t usually get out of hand like that, and Ben’s my friend so it’d kind of suck if he wasn’t around at any more of them this summer.”

“We’ll be back,” Michael assured him, “I know how to handle myself.”

“Of course you do,” Brandon nodded. He followed Michael’s gaze out to where Ben was talking with an older gentleman.

“Don’t let his golden boy image fool you,” he told Michael, taking a sip of his own drink. “He’s got problems like a lot of people, and he’s going through some pretty tough shit with his dad right now so he might need to lean on you.”

“He can lean on me just as much as I can lean on him,” Michael replied.

“Just don’t hurt him,” Brandon said, making the implication clear.

Michael almost smiled. He could hear Brian making the same exact threat.

“I won’t,” he promised.

Brandon nodded.

They exchanged a few more pieces of useless conversation but Brandon had made his point and wandered away.

Michael made himself busy. He talked to a few more of the guys who had been at Brandon’s party, the ones who approached him, remembered him. His uncle seemed to be having the same luck and Michael saw him striking up conversations with more than one of the Bruckners’ business associates.

He headed inside the house once he had freed himself from another conversation. His mother’s tiny home could fit in the first floor of the brownstone and he couldn’t help but marvel at the building as he searched for the bathroom.

As he made his way through the house to return to the back year he went to walk through the kitchen but stopped in the doorway as he heard voices in what seemed to be an argument.

“I told you I didn’t want Mr. Dean’s internship.” He recognized Ben’s voice instantly.

“It’s impressive that he even offered it to you!” His father replied, “You can’t just turn down an opportunity like that! These kinds of opportunities don’t get offered to people your age.”

“Well, it’s too late, because I already did.”

“To do what? To continue with that bullshit job and mess around with that child all summer?”

“Michael is-”

“He’s a child Ben,” his father said sternly, “and you can choose not to see that but it’s what he is. Now, I supported you when you came out but I can’t support you in dating such trash. People like him will use you for money and do nothing but drag you down. Between him and this writing thing how are you going to focus on what’s important this summer?”

“They are what’s important to me,” Ben said. “If I can’t see that I can’t change your opinion but don’t drag me down.”

The sound of him turning and going back outside echoed out of the room. Nothing moved and Michael barely dares to breathe.

After a minute Mr. Bruckner sighed and turned to leave the kitchen. However, instead of heading back outside he headed into the house. He stopped abruptly as he saw Michael and the two of them stared at one another for a moment. He looked as though he was going to speak but walked past Michael and disappeared into a room, slamming the door behind him. Michael looked after him before walking into the backyard.

He began hunting for Ben in the crowd, eventually spotting him talking to an associate of his father’s. He wasn’t outwardly upset but Michael could hear it in his voice as he recounted his experiences from college.

Michael stepped up behind him and slipped his hand into Ben’s, trying to comfort him in some small way.

Ben glanced over his shoulder and smiled, “Mr. Dean, I’d like you to meet my boyfriend, Michael.”

“It’s nice to meet you, young man.” The old man replied without so much as looking stunned. “Benjamin, I hope you have a good summer. Good luck with your classes next semester.”

“Thank you, Sir.” Ben said, nodding to him.

As he left Ben pulled Michael in for a kiss that rejuvenated them both.

“Are you having a good time?”

Michael smiled up at them, “Yeah, of course, but I think that you owe me a private tour.”

“Later,” Ben promised, pulling him closer. “Although, now that my sonly obligations have been fulfilled we can escape.”

“Escape?” Michael asked.

Ben smiled. “Let’s grab some lunch.”

Ben led Michael to a room upstairs. He hadn’t noticed that all of Ben’s friends had been disappearing but here they all were, in one room. It seemed to be some type of rec room, complete with a few couches and a TV. They made room for Ben and Michael on the couch.

As they ate the conversation slowly changed from how semesters at school had been, to what everyone was doing, to who everyone was doing.

“So, what’s the scene like in Pittsburgh?” someone asked Michael.

“It’s uhh… pretty similar to here from what I can tell,” Michael said. “There’s this street downtown, Liberty Avenue. There are all these clubs, different scenes, stores and this diner.”

“You go down there a lot?”

Michael shrugged, “My friend and I sneak down there a few times a week. Grab some drinks and go out dancing.”

“Better question,” another guy piped up, “How are the men?”

A few of them, including Ben, laughed.

“New York’s been measuring up pretty well so far, but Pittsburgh doesn’t lack fine specimens either.” Michael said.

As the rest of them began asking questions Ben stared at Michael. He had quickly presumed that Michael had very limited knowledge but what he knew seemed quite extensive. It was more than he had known at that age.

He put his hand on Michael’s leg for no real reason, vowing to himself to bring it up later. His friends were beginning to discuss the night’s plans. They wanted to go to The Works. He wasn’t sure how he could get Michael in but it was certainly going on his to-do list for the summer. Being that close to Michael was fast becoming one of his favorite activities, and having an excuse to do so just made it better.

He tugged on Michael, pulling him off of the arm of the couch and down onto his lap.

“Do you want to go?” Michael asked him.

“Not tonight,” Ben replied, pressing a kiss to Michael’s shoulder, then his neck. “I can’t. I have to work first thing in the morning.”

Michael raised an eyebrow, but before he could say anything Ben pulled him in for a longer kiss.

Michael didn’t pull back until a pillow struck him in the back of the head.

“Christ!” Brandon griped, “Will you two please spare us.”

“You’re just jealous that you’re not currently getting any,” Ben replied immediately.

“Very true,” Brandon chuckled.

Ben threw the pillow back across the room, letting them all resume normal conversation.

Hours passed like they did when he was at home, causing trouble with Brian or spending an afternoon down at Buzzy’s reading comics. Michael found that he liked Ben’s friends. For the most part, they didn’t treat him like he was seventeen, at least not in a holier than thou way.

That was why when the boys began regaling one another with stories of their first blowjobs he had no problem telling the story about his and Brian’s second ever trip to Babylon the previous summer. It was also pleasantly surprising to find that Ben hadn’t had the experience until his freshman year of college.

One of Ben’s friends from high school, and long before he had come out, a twink of a guy named Tim was enthusiastically telling about an experience at a club in Canada during the past semester when he stopped abruptly. His face got red as he caught the eyes of someone standing in the doorway, behind the couch Michael was sitting on.

He turned around to find his uncle leaning against the doorjam, hands tucked into his pockets and one leg crossed in front of the other.

“Don’t stop on my account,” he said, noticing that the attention of the entire room was on him.

“Uhh…” Tim stumbled through his words. “This isn’t exactly the kind of thing most parents want to hear.”

Michael was the only one who noticed Vic’s grimace at being called a parent and he let out a chuckle.

“Guys, this is my Uncle Vic. He’s-”

“Heard the story of Michael losing his virginity from more than once source, and told plenty my own tales from the backroom of The Works.”

It was Michael’s turn to blush as a few of the other guys in the room laughed and spoke their disbelief.

“Michael, I’m heading out, and I would really prefer that you didn’t walk home alone at night. It looks like Ben’s going to stay here and help his parents clean up so-”

“He can walk back with me, Vic,” Brandon spoke up. “I’m leaving in half an hour. I’ll make sure he gets home all right.”

He winked at Vic and several of his friends started laughing.

A grin crossed Vic’s face at the teenaged activity, and he shook his head, nodding at Michael, “I’ll see you in a bit then.”

“Evening Vic.” Ben called out.

“See you tomorrow, Ben.”

Ben grinned. He actually wouldn’t be around the following day but it was nice to know Vic expected him already.

Vic closed the door behind him and they all turned back to Tim, expecting him to pick up where he’d left off.

He was staring at Michael. “That’s your uncle? Man, he’s like a legend at the Works!”

Michael shrugged. It didn’t surprise him.

Tim started for a moment before shaking off his look of awe and continuing with his tale.

A half hour later seemed to be a leaving time for most of Ben’s guests, all eager to get home and get ready to go out.

“I’ll meet you at the corner,” Brandon told him purposefully as he bumped Michael’s shoulder on the way down the stairs.

“Thanks.”

Michael stopped on the front stairs next to Ben as they all walked down the street

As his friends scattered in either direction Ben wrapped an arm around Michael and leaned in to kiss him.

Just as he had at the party Michael couldn’t help but stiffen a little. It was still early enough that the sidewalks were crowded with people.

“Don’t,” the word escaped before he could stop it.

Ben immediately paused and stepped back, “What’s wrong?”

Michael leaned back against the railing, “I’m just not comfortable being…” He searched for the right word.

“You had no problem upstairs,” Ben reminded him, seeming to sense where his mind was going.

“Yeah, I just mean, your friends are all gay themselves, or cool with it. But people just walking by…” He looked out at the sidewalk.

Ben stared for a moment. “You’re not out at home are you?”

Michael looked at him. “The people who matter know. Everyone else is just white noise. It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes it does.” Ben prompted, “Michael?”

“No. Some people kind of have their assumptions but no, I’m not out to a lot of people.” He took a step forward.

“It’s different here, Ben. If we did that in Pittsburgh, at a place like your parents’ party, on the front steps of my house… I’d hate to think of what would happen.”

“That’s what’s so great about New York,” Ben said with a nod.

Michael looked at him. He trusted Ben but it wasn’t easy to step out of his comfort zone.

“Still.”

Ben nodded and pulled Michael back in through the doorway. He pushed him hard against it, forcing the door closed and before Michael had really gained his footing was pressed against him, kissing him hard. Michael smiled into the kiss and took tight hold of the shirt Ben was wearing.

Ben pulled back quickly at the sound of a woman clearing her throat.

“Good evening, Michael,” she said, “I hope we see you around some more this summer.”

“Of course,” he nodded, opening the door as a blush crept up his neck, “Goodnight Mrs. Bruckner.”

He pushed himself up onto his tiptoes and pressed another kiss to Ben’s lips, “Night Ben.”

“Bye,” Ben replied.

Michael closed the door behind himself and Ben turned to his mother.

“Did you have to do that?”

“It’s my privilege as a parent to embarrass you, Sweetheart,” she told him, “And I’m sure that’s the least compromising position I’ll find the two of you in this summer, so you’ll survive.”

“Mom!” Now Ben was blushing.

“Why don’t you go help your father clean up out back?”

Ben gladly took the opportunity to escape. It was a big backyard; it would be easy to avoid another conversation with his father.

“Took you long enough,” Brandon complained around his cigarette as Michael caught up to him.

“Sorry,” Michael replied.

Brandon shrugged and started walking, offering the cigarette to Michael.

“So Brandon,” he began, taking a drag, “You’ve known Ben for a long time, right?”

“About ten years,” Brandon agreed, taking the cigarette back.

“What’s he like, I mean, with school and people?”

“You mean, is he different than he is with you?”

“I guess.”

Brandon thought about it for a moment. “He’s smart. Really smart. He got into Yale without any help from his parents, and he does all this stuff on campus and still manages to keep his grades up. As for people, he’s got more friends than anyone I know and…” he paused, thinking for a moment, “I guess as far as guys go, he gets around. You wouldn’t believe the stories he tells me about school.”

Michael was quiet for the rest of the walk home as Brandon went on about school and Ben.

Ben headed to Michael’s quickly after getting out of work two days later. Michael was expecting him and they had planned to walk down to the park again.

However, it was Vic who answered the door.

“I don’t think he’s quite as excited as you are,” Vic told him as he opened the door wider, letting Ben past.

Ben raised an eyebrow, “What’s wrong?”

“His mother got his grades in the mail today.”

“Oh.” He remembered Michael mentioning his hatred of school more than once. “I take he didn’t have a good semester.”

Vic shook his head. “No, not at all. Technically, I’m supposed to ground him for the rest of the time that I’m here, or at least until I can calm my sister down. That said,” he paused, giving Ben a pointed look, “I am going to take a very long, relaxing shower, and if he sneaks out while I’m in there I’m not going to go out looking for him.”

“Yes Sir,” Ben grinned.

He left Vic standing in the living room and made his way over to Michael’s room, closing the door securely behind him. He climbed onto the bed where Michael seemed to be dozing.

He grinned and began massaging Michael’s shoulders, “You know, I think you have this moping thing down to an art.”

“Mmm?” Michael turned his head, “You’re not supposed to be here, you know.” He smothered a groan,

“I’m-”

“Grounded.” Ben finished. “I heard. I also heard that if you sneak out while your uncle is in the shower he’s not going to look for you, and I assume that means he isn’t going to punish you.”

Michael chuckled. That didn’t surprise him.

“So,” Ben continued, “Do you want to come up to the roof with me?”

“Yeah,” Michael nodded, rolling over and pushing himself up into a sitting position.

“How bad was it?” Ben asked as they let themselves out of Vic’s apartment, closing the door and starting for the stairs.

Michael chose not to answer until they had reached the roof.

“One B, two Cs and two Ds.” He said as they strolled across the roof.

“Ouch,” Ben commiserated.

“Yeah, Michael sighed, collapsing into an empty chair. “And I would have done even worse without Brian helping me study for everything.”

“Maybe you could have,” Ben told him.

“No,” Michael knew Ben was trying to make him feel better but he hated when people took this attitude with him. “I’m not smart Ben. School really just sucks for me and I can’t wait to be done for good.”

Ben didn’t know what to say. He had always liked school, but then, a lot of it had come so easily to him.

The best way was possibly to just push onto another subject. He wrapped an arm around Michael from behind, leaning on the back of his chair.

“Tell me about Pittsburgh,” he requested.

Michael laughed a little, “What about it?”

“Where you live? Brian? Your mom? Whatever you want to talk about really,” Ben said, releasing him and pilling another chair close. “You at an advantage here. You get to see me living life like I do every day. I, on the other hand, know very little about your life. It’s completely unfair.”

Michael took a deep breath. Maybe he did owe this to Ben. Brian was the easiest place to start, but in other ways the most difficult. He thought for a moment.

“Okay, so I should tell you that one day Brian Kinney is going to be God’s gift to Liberty Avenue…”

---

Finally I’m back. As I thought break has been incredibly hectic, and I’ve been working more than 40 hours a week, but I have been writing on my breaks, mostly working on various part of this. I’ve made it my writing goal to finish this before the end of the upcoming semester. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. The next one, I’m hoping, will be up more quickly than the last.

Drabbles 2

Fri, 21 Dec 2007 06:33:42 GMT

More of them.

Title: Winning/Losing (Part 1)
Challenge: Episodes 216-220
Written: 9/14/07

“How is he?” Ted asked as Michael hurried out of the apartment and Brian slowly emerged from the bedroom.

Brian stared after his friend, hardly noticing everyone else flinch when the door slammed.

All he’d seen in that bedroom was that vacant, lost expression in Michael’s eyes, and it hurt. He’d said six months ago that Michael was going to get hurt if he stayed with Ben, but had he listened? Of course not.

And now he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

“Not too well,” Brian said. “I’ve got to go; can’t be late for my meeting.”

Title: Winning/Losing (Part 2)
Challenge: Episodes 216-220
Written: 9/14/07

Businessmen from Kentucky; who knew there were even real people down there.

He was thankful when his phone rang giving him a moment away from them. It was Michael; that wasn’t a surprise.

“What’s up?”

The words just started spilling out of Michael’s mouth.

What hurt is that he could only imagine that the way Michael sounded was exactly the way he had sounded almost a year ago when Justin had been bashed.

Michael had gotten off of a plane to come back and just sit. The least he could do was blow off a bunch of suits until tomorrow.

Title: Winning/Losing (Part 3)
Challenge: Episodes 216-220
Written: 9/14/07

“How is he?” Brian asked, glancing past him. He couldn’t make sense of the beeping machines, IVs and oxygen mask littering the space around the bed, but it wasn’t good.

“They’ve got him on all these painkillers and shit. They don’t even know if he…” That was it. Michael burst into tears.

Brian wrapped both arms tightly around him. You couldn’t be friends with someone since middle school and not care.

But that’s not where his thoughts were. His thoughts were two floors down, dressed in a tux, a silk scarf covered in blood, and tears falling down his face.

Title: Winning/Losing (Part 4)
Challenge: Episodes 216-220
Written: 9/14/07

He sat with Michael for over an hour, just watching him watch Ben. On a typical night he would have been sickened, watching them, being forced to sit through it. But he had to be here for Michael.

And when he got home, and Justin had that picnic set up on the floor, he almost, almost sat down. He thought of the bashing, of Justin hunting him down, of coping.

“Come on, get dressed. We’re going to Babylon.”

And when Justin didn’t follow him into the bedroom he could only think that Michael had found everything that he was losing.

Title: Well hungarians
Challenge: Crossover (Rent)
Written: 10/4/07

“Holy shit.”

“What is it baby?” Emmett stepped over to look over his shoulder.

“It’s Roger,” Ted stated, pointing to the computer.

Emmett stared at the advertisement on the screen. It had to be at least ten years old, but damn.

“Roger? Like, overweight, chorus director Roger?”

Ted nodded, speechless.

Emmett looked again. The advertisement was for a band, the Well Hungarians. Horrible pun, he told himself, but the singer was gorgeous. Bleach-blond curls, sparkling blue eyes, and that body, obviously displayed without a shirt on the poster.

“Well, at least he really was well hung.” Emmett observed.

Ted glared.

Title: Color in the Loft
Challenge: Fall Decoration
Written: 10/18/07

Brian stared up from the street. There was something colorful in his loft windows.

The first clue to the inhabitants in his loft became apparent as he stepped off the elevator. There, in the hallway, was a pumpkin.

Hadn’t they had this discussion this morning?

He opened the door, “Sunshine, you had better…”

His iron, the iron that was used to touching only his finely tailored shirts was pressing leaves and crayon shavings between sheets of wax paper.

“Halloween Daddy!” Gus shouted, grinning so widely.

“Happy Halloween, Sonny Boy,” he replied, trying to ignore the sly grin crossing Justin’s face.

Title: Different
Challenge: spooky words - midnight, spooky, windy, leaves, and scream
Written: 10/26/07

Justin awoke to the scream of the wind through unsealed apartment windows and rolled onto his back. There was something spooky about this place. Maybe it was that it was barely midnight and he was asleep. Maybe it was that the apartment was deathly silent.

He closed his eyes, thinking back a few months. Plush pillows and the warm duvet cover, and the sound of leaves scraping across the roof in Pittsburgh’s windy fall. And Brian’s slightly labored breathing via a deviated septum.

His eyes snapped open.

Carefully he scooted closer to Ethan and trying to push those thoughts aside.

Title: Canada
Challenge: spooky words - midnight, spooky, windy, leaves, and scream
Written: 10/26/07

The new house is spooky. It’s dark when we get there and the power isn’t working. Mama used some very bad words.

“Mel, it’s almost midnight. Let’s get the kids to bed and figure this out in the morning,” Mommy says.

There are leaves all over the floor from a broken window, and it’s windy so the house makes creaky noises and JR starts screaming.

Mommy says we live in Canada now. I don’t know where that is.

I hope it’s not too far from Pittsburgh.

Maybe we can visit Justin tomorrow and he can show me on Daddy’s computer.

Title: Canada II
Challenge: spooky words - midnight, spooky, windy, leaves, and scream
Written: 10/27/07

Dad and Justin have already landed in Toronto. I hope they get here soon, between JR screaming about some flaw in her makeup, and Mom and Ma doing their spooky, obnoxious mating dance I’m going crazy. Couldn’t the two of them wait until midnight when everyone else in the house is supposedly asleep?

I look out the window, watching the leaves blow across the. Toronto’s windy in the fall.

Finally, thank God, Dad’s rental car pulls up against the sidewalk. Justin runs quickly up the front walk.

Then there’s Dad. He catches my face in the window and just smiles.

Title: Thinking Too Hard
Challenge: spooky words - midnight, spooky, windy, leaves, and scream
Written: 10/27/07

Ben’s been standing on the porch for over an hour, leaning against the railing, smoking a cigarette.

The last time I was home they had me outside, raking leaves, despite the fact that it was so windy the yard would be covered again by morning.

Now it’s almost midnight and I don’t know what to say to him because it’s spooky to look in his eyes and see how much he wants to scream behind them. But the doctor said that Michael can come home tomorrow, that he’s fine.

I let myself out the door and stand next to him.

Title: Thinking Too Hard (Part II)
Challenge: spooky words - midnight, spooky, windy, leaves, and scream
Written: 10/27/07

It started with the nightmares that started after the bombing. Ben started meditating before he went to bed to keep them at bay.

Breathe in.

Those pained screams of the injured.

Breathe out.

That spooky, eerie quiet after the blast faded.

Breathe in.

Walking down the windy roads with Michael weeks later.

Breathe out.

Raking leaves in the front yard with Hunter.

He opens his eyes, noting that it’s well past midnight and crawls into bed, wrapping Michael’s thin frame in his arms.

Inhaling deeply he realizes this is a perfection far better than that achieved by his nightly meditation.

Title: A Night at the Kinney House
Challenge: spooky words - midnight, spooky, windy, leaves, and scream
Written: 10/31/07

His sister screams about her loathing for her for-shit college. You don’t do the work; you don’t get the rewards. It’s spooky how that works in the real world isn’t it?

His mother just stands there, the flawless model of Catholic martyrdom, ignoring her mindless wails. She’s watching the old man as he leaves, hurrying out to his other woman, his booze.

“It’s windy out, wear a coat,” she nags, voice pinched.

After he leaves she begins pouring the alcohol.

Brian turns back to his homework at the kitchen table, waiting for midnight and another day closer to leaving forever.

Title: Night
Challenge: Liberty Avenue
Written: 11/11/07

He and Michael have been walking up and down this street for years, but they haven’t gotten up the balls to go in anywhere yet. He’s there tonight, but Michael isn’t. He’s standing across from Babylon alone.

“My father is an abusive drunk,” He’d snapped at Michael before storming out the front door, finally having admit it aloud.

Tonight was different. Tonight things changed.

Tonight when the old man had come after him he’d swung back, knocking Jack down on his ass, staring back up at him in something like shock.

He set his jaw and walked across the street.

Title: First Christmas
Challenge: Fire, Fireplace, Candles
Written: 11/14/06

“Dude, what are you doing?” Hunter asked, hanging up his coat.

“It’s Christmas,” Ben explained, “Michael will like it.”

Hunter rolled his eyes and continued upstairs.

Michel let himself in an hour later, exhausted from the last minute shoppers begging him for one rare comic or another.

He stopped short in the doorway then stepped slowly into the living room. There was a fire glowing in the fireplace, white lights on the tree, and simple, white candles lit around the room.

Ben appeared behind him. “I figured we needed something special to celebrate our first Christmas in the new house.”

Title: The Hazards of Marriage
Challenge: Justins Hoodie
Written: 11/29/07

The annoying ring of the doorbell woke him from a dream about the talent that was Justin’s mouth. Grumbling, Brian reached for the closest item of clothing he could find, pulling it on over his head. Justin had left to see his mother hours ago and without him Brian planned to enjoy a day alone at Britin.

As he walked barefoot across the hardwood floor the doorbell rang incessantly and he missed the loft where he could just buzz Michael in.

He opened the door and glared.

Michael just looked Brian up and down.

“Since when does Prada make hoodies?”

Title: Morning Fix
Challenge: Justin's Hoodie
Written: 11/29/07

Brian ignored the eggs on his plate, and the conversation swirling around him. The only thing his attention was on was the steaming diner coffee.

Well, that and Debbie’s voice. Christ, that woman could make the deaf claw their ears out. Especially before noon

He took another sip. The coffee was awful but the caffeine was perfect.

And then he walked by.

Brian didn’t even think, just grabbed the hood of the red sweatshirt and tugged Justin back to the booth. Without exchanging a word Justin leaned down, opening his mouth against Brian’s.

Now this was the fix he needed.

Title: Comfort (Part I - Justin)
Challenge: Justin's Hoodie
Written: 12/1/07

Orders were not something Brian Kinney would take. Compromises on the other hand were doable, if a bit difficult.

Three years of negotiating Brian’s moods had made Justin an expert. That was why Brian was at home, sleeping off the sickness that came with his radiation, and Justin was out buying more than beer and poppers for the fridge.

He left the bag of groceries on the counter as he checked on Brian. He was asleep, wearing a pair of jeans, a wrinkled white t-shirt, and one of Justin’s worn hoodies.

Justin just grinned and walked back to the kitchen.

Title: Comfort (Part II - Brian)
Challenge: Justin's Hoodie
Written: 12/1/07

Brian rolled over as the loft door slammed closed. The nausea was stronger than he’d expected, and the dizziness didn’t help him stumble to the bathroom any faster.

The fact that he could barely stand, let alone work, certainly didn’t improve his mood.

And that little blonde twat wouldn’t let him lift a finger.

And then there were the chills. It felt as though the loft was freezing but the duvet cover felt like it was strangling him.

He shivered, and, resigning himself to Justin’s presence, shrugged on the grey hoddie he’d left on the end of the bed.

Title: Decorating the Loft
Challenge: Christmas Lights
Written: 12/16/07

“Nothing,” Brian insisted as he shrugged on his coat, “I mean it Justin. I don’t want a single piece of red or green in this loft when I get home.”

“What about silver?” Justin asked from the bed.

Brian turned in the bedroom doorway. “Nothing. I don’t do Christmas. If you want to decorate so badly go over to Debbie’s. Help her put up lights.”

When the loft door slammed shut Justin smirked, rolling onto his stomach and pulling the hidden box of Christmas lights out from under the bed. It wasn’t anything he couldn't fix later with a blowjob.

Title: Homecoming I
Challenge: Christmas Lights
Written: 12/18/07

Michael looked over to the passenger seat as he drove home from the hospital. Ben was looking back at him, a tired smile on his face. In seven years together it was only their second trip to the hospital, and each time it had equally disrupted their lives. But it was Christmas Eve and he was coming home.

Michael reached across the armrest between them and took hold of Ben’s hand.

“I’m sorry to disappoint but I haven’t even gotten the Christmas lights up yet.”

Ben tightened his grip on Michael’s hand, “I’m home. We’re together. That’s all that matters.”

Title: Homecoming II
Challenge: Christmas Lights
Written: 12/18/07

Michael almost stomped on the brakes as he turned onto their street. The front porch of their home was brightly lit with lights and what was obviously a Christmas tree in the bay window.

Ben sucked in a deep breath, “You were saying?”

Michael remained silent as he pulled into the driveway, certain none of this had been there this morning when he’d left for the hospital.

Ben stopped just inside the doorway, turning and giving Michael a smile. As Michael peered past him he smiled also. There was Hunter, finally home from school, asleep on the living room couch.

Drabbles

Fri, 21 Dec 2007 05:51:48 GMT

I've been writing drabbles since May and figured I should post them here so they aren't lost to obscurity (plus, I wanted to give Christine something to read on her breaks at work. Follow the cut, this may be posted in multiple entries.

Title: Good Kitty
Challenge: Dialogue only
Written: 5/6/07

“What is it?”

“It’s a cat.”

“And what about me makes you think that I am the type of queer who would own a cat.”

“Oh, come on Brian. I’ll take care of him, and clean up after him and bring him to the vet and all that shit. You’ll hardly notice that he’s here.”

“Right, that will last all of a week.”

“What if I let you name him?”

“What the hell kind of name do you give to a cat?”

“Something you don’t mind yelling several hundred times.”

“Really?”

“No Brian, you cannot name the cat ‘blow me.”

Title: Welcome Home
Challenge: Kissing
Written: 5/11/07

He doesn’t even need to look for the ‘vette when he steps out of the airport and onto the curb. Brian’s arms are wrapped around him, lips on his before he can pick Brian’s immaculately pressed suit from among the crowd.

The kiss is hungry, passionate, hot. Brian’s lips are warm and soft despite having spent the last half hour waiting in the cold. The need and the urgency of the kiss tell Justin exactly what he knows Brian will never say.

I missed you.

I’m glad you’re home.

“You’re pathetic,” Justin tells him, trying very hard not to smile.

Title: The Difference
Challenge: Kissing
Written: 5/15/07

Brian leaned down and pecked Michael quickly on the lips. It was it was an ‘I care,’ not a shut up kiss, even if Brian would never admit it. As Brian disappeared Michael searched for Ben, and found him at the bar watching.

“Does he always kiss you like that?”

Ben’s words came back to him and Michael shook them off. What he had with Ben was so many times greater than what he had ever, could ever have had with Brian. He hoped Brian found the same happiness with Justin.

He lost himself in Ben’s kiss. Nothing else mattered.

Title: Goodnight Kiss
Challenge: Kissing
Written: 5/15/07

Brian watched Justin closely. His chest rose and fell evenly and his gimp hand was clutched against it almost protectively. He was beautiful, and Brian kept waiting for those blue eyes to open and look directly into his soul as they so often did.

He reached forward and brushed a hand through Justin’s hair as he let out a quiet snore. He kissed Justin’s forehead gently, without thinking.

“Brian?” Justin asked groggily, stirring only slightly.

“Go back to sleep.” Brian lay back down and threw an arm lazily over Justin’s middle, closing his eyes to warn off any further questions.

Title: Pelvic Thrusts aka Newsboys
Challenge: Movie crossover (with Newsies)
Written: 6/10/07

Brian emerged from the bedroom in a pair of sweatpants, walking to where Justin was seated on the couch.

“That’s my cigar… You’ll steal another…”

“What the fuck are you watching?” he asked, spotting the retarded Disney logo in the corner of the screen.

“A movie.”

Brian rolled his eyes and took a seat. He could see that. Nevertheless he watched.

There were a lot of boys around Justin’s age on the screen, singing and dancing, and…

Was that a pelvic thrust?

Brian’s eyes widened, “Are you sure this is a Disney movie?”

Justin smirked, “I knew you’d like it.”

Title: Proudest Moment
Challenge: Proud
Written: 6/29/07

Michael stood watching his son, for the second time in the five years since he had been adopted, dressed in the black cap and gown that celebrated school graduations.

He was laughing, running a hand through his mess of reddish hair as a chubby five-year-old with dark hair and Michael’s own brown eyes clung to his legs. He reached down, lifting her up, spinning her around as she shrieked in delight.

Michael felt tears in his eyes as he watched his children. They spilled over as Ben’s arms encircled his waist.

He had never been more proud of his son.

Title: Babylon
Challenge: Proud
Written: 6/29/07

Babylon’s grand reopening the biggest event Liberty Avenue had ever seen. There was controversy of course, but Brian had never really cared what anyone said. Most of the survivors had given their unwavering support.

Michael watched Brian from the bar as Brian danced alone, becoming lost in the thumpa-thumpa as he always did. Everyone had wondered how Brian would get along with Justin gone, but he knew…

At this moment he had never been more proud of Brian. In turn Brian had never been more proud of Justin- whose first piece from New York hung high in the club’s entryway.

Title: Morning Routine
Challenge: 100+
Written: 7/24/07

Michael poured himself a glass of orange juice before turning back to the crowded kitchen. He didn’t have to be at the store until ten, but Ben and Hunter both had class, though neither seemed to be particularly rushed this morning.

Ben took a final bite of his breakfast bar and began popping pills out of a few containers he had sitting on the table, washing each of them down with his protein shake. His attention remained focused on one of the term papers he had sitting on the table in front of him, occasionally marking them with a bright blue pen.

At the same time Hunter was standing at the counter, stirring sugar into his coffee and yawning exaggeratedly. After pouring cereal and milk into a bowl he poured the pills out of the ‘breakfast’ compartment of his pill separator, the one Ben had used to teach him about all of his medications and when they needed to be taken. He swallowed the mouthful of pills with a gulp of coffee and walked over to the table with his breakfast, shoving the large pillbox back into his backpack.

Both of them were so involved in their own morning routines that they hadn’t noticed that their timing of medicating themselves had matched perfectly.

Michael, on the other hand, leaned more heavily against the counter than before. He hated moments like this, moments when he was reminded of how sick both of them were, could get, would be.

He watched them closely, noticing the little idiosyncrasies each of them displayed; the way that Hunter slurped down his cereal quickly and relaxed to have his coffee as he played with the ever-growing hole in his jeans; the way Ben’s tongue stuck slightly out from between his lips as he concentrated on the paper in front of him.

Michael sighed.

Hunter glanced up at him and rose from his chair.

“Got to go. See you at the store after school.”

Hunter nodded to Ben and clapped Michael on the shoulder before he left.

Ben pushed the papers back into his bag and stood up, folding Michael into his arms and kissing him goodbye.

“I love you.” He said when they parted.

“Love you,” Michael replied, as Ben pulled on his coat.

“See you tonight.” With another kiss he was gone out the same door Hunter had exited only moments before.

Michael sighed again, but this time he was content. Things could get bad, but together the three of them would make it through, just as they always had.

Title: Dorm Life
Challenge: Moving Day
Written: 8/25/07

Hunter stared at the pile of books sitting on his desk. His clothes were unpacked and in the closet, and there was a blanket on the bed.

He turned his head as the door opened and watched the dark haired boy roll his eyes as his girlfriend came into the room, mouth going a mile a minute in a familiar, whiney drone.

Excusing himself he took his cell and walked out the door.

The phone rang twice before Michael picked up.

“Calling home already? College can’t be that bad.”

“Only the fact that my roommate’s girlfriend sounds exactly like you.”

Title: New York
Challenge: Moving Day
Written: 8/25/07

There were boxes everywhere. The apartment was quiet, the city was as bright as Liberty Avenue on Friday night, and his roommate was passed out across the couch.

He groaned, not really fond of the idea of unpacking.

Reluctantly he dragged himself into the closet that was his bedroom. The first box he opened was painting supplies. The second was clothes. He pulled out a shirt and tossed it on the bedspread.

“This came while you were out.”

A package landed on the bed next to him.

Without looking at the return address he ripped it open.

He smiled.

Brian.

Title: The Loft
Challnge: Moving Day
Written: 8/27/07

It was perfect. Stainless steel everywhere, imported furniture, and a closet that was soon to be filled with expensive collections of suits and club-wear.

And the best part was he hadn’t lifted a finger. It had taken only a few years to build up his reputation and success in order to afford such a place.

The bed was the best part. You could see it from every point in the loft. It had taken him months to find a place meeting that qualification.

Two hours as a home-owner and already a naked man waiting for him in that bed.

Perfect.

Title: Oh Canada
Challenge: Moving Day
Written: 8/27/07

The car ride was long and they stopped a lot. Mom and Mommy argued a lot over the directions and JR did nothing but fuss.

A week passed in the new house and things were unpacked and neighbors were met. But no one came. There were no familiar faces.

There were no visits from Auntie Em or Uncle Ted to visit one of his mothers. There was no Uncle Michael stopping by to take Jenny-Rebecca to the park. And there was no Justin stopping by just to see him. Most importantly, he wasn’t there.

Finally he asked, “Momma, where’s Daddy?”

Title: Moving Back Home
Challenge: Moving Day
Written: 8/27/07

“So, Michael’s coming home tomorrow?”

“If the doctor thinks he’s ready.”

“And he’s going to be okay?”

“The doctor said he’ll make a full recovery.”

“Why hasn’t Brian come to the hospital?”

“They had a fight.”

“But Michael almost died.”

“Brian was there the night of the bombing, but they told us Michael would be fine and he left.”

“Asshole. How do either of you put up with him?”

“Hunter, I’m tired, would you please stop asking so many questions and just go to sleep?”

“Fine.”

“Thank you.”

“Can I ask you one more question?”

“Just one.”

“Where’s my bed?”

Rooftops (Chapter 4)

Thu, 29 Nov 2007 17:15:14 GMT

Rooftops
Chapter 4

His parents had both disappeared to work by the time he woke up the next morning. He could tell without even getting out of bed because of how deathly silent the house was. He rolled over onto his back and smiled up at the ceiling as he remembered the night before. Joan was going to have a field day with this when he told her at work tomorrow. Maybe it would get him a few extra nights off from work or at least get her off his back when he came in late.

He was going to lounge around until noon and then head over to the familiar apartment building this afternoon. He just had to wait for it to be late enough that Michael would be back from the gym.

He glanced over at his computer and smiled. Inspiration was definitely hitting him once again. He turned on the machine, heading downstairs to grab breakfast before he showered and got to work.

He knocked at Vic’s door, wondering how often this summer he was going to find himself standing in this same spot.

Vic opened the door and for a moment Ben wondered what exactly Vic did for a living, because he always seemed to be home.

Vic blinked at him.

“Christ, why are you teenage boys always awake so early. I’ve hardly been up for an hour.”

Ben shrugged, “I’m used to getting up early for work I guess. Is Michael around?”

“My dear nephew is in his bedroom,” Vic told him, stepping aside and letting him into the apartment.

Ben stepped past him with a nod, though he stopped once he was inside. Sitting at the table was a man not much older than himself, one he recognized from The Works, the one Brandon fucked around with on a semi-regular basis.

The man stared back at him with a grin, “Hey Benny.”

Ben didn’t say a word, just shook his head and crossed the living room.

Behind him he could hear Vic sitting back down at the table and speaking to his fuck-buddy, “How do you know him?”

Ben almost laughed at how close everyone in the gay community around here was. He let himself into Michael’s room without knocking and closed the door behind him to block out their further conversation. What he found was Michael stretched out on his back and staring at the ceiling. He didn’t even glance in Ben’s direction as he heard the door opening and closing, probably assuming it was Vic.

His next decision didn’t even involve thought. Without any hesitation Ben climbed onto the large bed next to Michael, resting on his stomach and using his elbows to support himself.

“Morning,” he greeted as Michael looked up and met his eyes.

Michael glanced at his clock, “Closer to afternoon actually.”

Ben grinned, shifting on to his side, “Smartass.”

He noted Michael’s wet hair and ran a hand through it, “You just get back from the gym?”

Michael shook his head, “Didn’t go.”

Michael’s short, clipped answers weren’t typical. Ben directed Michael’s face with his hand, making Michael look him in the eye, “What’s up?”

“You never really answered my question last night?”

Ben sighed, he’d through his reaction had made his response to Michael’s question obvious.

“It’s hard to explain, Michael,” he said.

“So, dumb it down for me.” Michael had agonized over that first kiss for a few days, so while he was pretty sure that he knew the answer making Ben squirm was more fun.

Ben though for a moment, shifting his weight again and placing a hand on Michael’s bicep, “Okay, let me make this simple. I like you. A lot. And though I’m not one hundred percent sure exactly why that is I would rather not ignore it. So I was thinking that, as long as you’re in New York this summer, we should see what happens with this.”

“You sure you wouldn’t rather just mess around at Brandon’s parties all summer?” Michael asked.

Ben looked at him. “What’s wrong with you today, huh? You’re not usually this pessimistic.”

Michael was pretty sure that Ben had rarely seen his optimistic side since they had met but he deserved an answer, “You just… you remind me a lot of Brian. The way you talk, and act, and the way you were last night at the party… I just don’t want to be the person that tries to hold you back if that’s not what you want.”

Ben really needed to meet this Brian character, get to know him to find how he had made Michael so worried about things like this.

“Let me tell you something, okay. Going out and partying is great, it really is, but it gets old. People get burned out of that lifestyle. Eventually the same thing is going to happen to Brian. I’d rather spend my time with just one person then get a random fuck once in a while.”

Michael grinned a little bit, “That’s a much more philosophical answer than I was expecting.”

Ben couldn’t help but smile shaking his head and shifting his position once again. This time he settled himself chest to chest with Michael, holding his weight up.

“I am never going to get a straight answer out of you, am I?”

Michael smiled up at him in a silent affirmation.

Ben just shook his head and leaned down to kiss Michael again. This time Michael didn’t hesitate to kiss back. He wrapped his arms up around Ben’s broad shoulders, pulling him down on top of him.

Adolescence was a wonderful time if only for the fact that they could lay there and make out all afternoon and no one would bother them, or would likely care.

Michael pulled his lips away from Ben’s and went to work on Ben’s neck. Ben groaned deep in his throat, digging his hand into Michael’s arm. He turned his head kissing Michael’s forehead, hair, whatever he could reach.

“Ahem.”

The two boys jumped apart at the misplaced cough, both looking toward the door.

Vic’s latest trick was standing in the doorway, shit-eating grin across his face at having caught them in a compromising position. He opened the door a bit wider, stepping into the room and leaning against the doorframe. He was tall and typically built, with dark eyes and short curly hair. The way he stared was intimidating.

Finally he spoke, “You mother’s on the phone.”

“Fuck,” Michael muttered, “Ben, let me up.”

Ben rolled onto his side, raising an eyebrow as Michael’s whole demeanor changed. He sat up stiffly, pushing himself off of the bed.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, nodding to Ben and slipping past the unfamiliar man at the door.

Ben settled back to the bed, leaning against the wall.

The guy, Sam was his name if Ben remembered correctly, took a few steps into the room.

“Isn’t he a bit young for you, Benny?” he asked, leaning against the dresser.

“Isn’t Vic a bit old for you?” Ben countered, raising an eyebrow.

“Touché,” Sam smiled. “What can I say, the guy doesn’t look half bad for his age. You’re looking good to Ben, a year at school sure makes a big difference. Maybe I should start coming around Brandon’s parties a bit more.”

Ben watched him. His smile was more like a leer and Ben remembered how he had been at parties, one of those guys who liked to have the attention of the whole room.

“I’m not interested.”

“Right,” Sam glanced back toward the door, “The twerp.”

Vic was rolling his eyes as Michael entered the living room, pacing around the room, phone in hand.

“Sis, will you calm down,” he argued, “He’s been trouble since the day he walked into Michael’s life and I’m sure Michael didn’t think-”

Michael sighed. He didn’t even want to guess what Brian had done. Of course it was somehow going to be entirely his fault. He held out his hand for the phone.

“Here Deb, why don’t you ask him yourself?”

Vic passed the phone off as though it had burned him, getting as far from Michael as he could. Michael just looked down at the phone for a moment before raising it to his ear.

“Hi Ma,” he said.

“Don’t you ‘hi Ma’ me,” Debbie’s voice was shrill, “What are you thinking letting Brian just come over like that?”

“Mom, he was fighting with his dad last night. You know how Mr. Kinney is. I told him that he could stay in my room if he needed to.”

“Well, he did hell of a lot more than that.”

Inwardly Michael groaned, “What did he do?”

Knowing Brian he wasn’t going to appreciate it either.

“A young man, couldn’t have been much younger than twenty-two, walked out my front door this morning,” Debbie snapped, “A fucking trick in my house. Michael, I wouldn’t even let you do that and you’re my son. And then that cocky little shit just waltzed down the stairs and asked me what was for breakfast.”

Part of Michael wanted to shake his head in annoyance but part of him wanted to laugh. In the end he just smirked, knowing his mother couldn’t see it.

“I’ll talk to him,” He promised her, rubbing his forehead with his free hand.

“Talk? A lot of good that’s going to do.”

“Well, what do you want me to do? I’m not down there in Pittsburgh; I’m in New York.”

“Yeah, well maybe we should rethink that arrangement. Maybe we should cut the trip short this year so you can come back and work on finding a job.”

Michael clenched his jaw. A week ago he might have agreed to that, going home and spending his evenings hanging around with Brian would have sounded like a good idea. But now he had Ben sitting in his bedroom and that was definitely enough to make him want to stay.

Plus his mother was starting to get on his case about work already.

“I told you Ma, I have a job lined up when I get home.”

“The Big Q? They’re not going to pay you nearly enough. If you’d just worked a little harder this year you could have picked up an internship like Brian.”

“I thought you weren’t too fond of Brian this morning,” he countered.

“Who I’m happy with is not the issue,” she snapped, “The issue here is that your friend is setting himself up for success. That internship has got to be paying him twice what the Big Q is paying you and it’s going to look a hell of a lot better on his college applications than ‘comic book aficionado’ is going to look on yours.”

Michael frowned. Why was she all of a sudden getting on his case?

“Have you even started thinking about colleges you would like to look at Michael?”

“Brian said that I could come on a few visits with him.”

“We can’t afford the schools he’s looking at Michael, and you’re certainly not going to get the scholarships that he has.”

“Christ Mother, I know,” Michael snapped, “I’m only going to look at a few of the state schools.”

“Don’t you take that tone with me!”

“What tone?” Michael couldn’t manage to stay quiet. He hadn’t notice both Sam and Ben leave his bedroom, the latter pouring himself a cup of coffee in Vic’s pristine kitchen.

“I am trying to explain to you that I am doing just fine. I want to stay in New York. This is probably the last summer I’m going to get to come up here so I plan to enjoy it.”

It was a moment before she spoke, “You should start watching who you hang out with when you get back, sweetheart, you’re starting to sound exactly like Brian.”

“Good, maybe I’ll start dragging tricks back from the clubs with me once I come home.”

He couldn’t help but get angry, and loud. There was something about his mother over the past few years. It had gotten worse, her nagging him about college and working, though he’d had a job almost since the day he’d turned fourteen, and had odd jobs long before that. It wasn’t his fault that he wasn’t as smart as Brian, that they didn’t have the money for him to be tutored or go to a nice school as his best friend planned to.

Vic grabbed the phone from his hand, stopping him from going on further. He glared at Michael as Debbie’s voice could be heard screaming from the phone.

“You had better have a damned good apology ready the next time she calls,” he told Michael calmly. He nodded toward Michael’s room. He may not have said it but it was an order.

Michael turned on his heel and stormed into his room, slamming the door shut behind him and for the moment completely forgetting that Ben was supposed to be in there.

Ben meanwhile, was standing silently in the kitchen. He’d thought things with his parents were bad. It obviously couldn’t have been that bad as he had yet to get into a shouting match with his father. And at least he had the option to storm out of the house. He’d gotten the idea from the way that Michael talked about his mother, that despite this constant argument they were too close and he could never do that to her.

He started back in the direction of Michael’s bedroom.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Sam told him, nursing his own cup of coffee and watching closely as Vic tried to calm his sister down over the phone.

“Why’s that?”

Sam gave him an incredulous look, “What, you think the kid isn’t going to get punished for an outburst like that? What would happen in your house if you yelled at your mother like that? I’m telling you, the minute he hangs up that phone you’re going to be gone and Michael’s going to be grounded or on his way back to the Pitts.”

Ben shrugged him off and headed back in the direction of Michael’s room. That would be just his luck but Michel seemed intent on staying.

He opened the door just in time to see Michael turn and punch the wall. Hard.

“Fuck!” Michael snapped, immediately pulling his hand back and cradling it against his chest.

“Christ Baby, don’t put a hole through the wall,” Ben said, letting a small smile tug at his lips as he closed the door behind himself, “How are we gonna have any privacy if you do that?”

He wrapped an arm around Michael, the other one reaching down to cradle his hand. Michael didn’t say a word, just leaned against Ben. That was one of the things that comforted him about this situation; Ben seemed to know exactly what he needed.

“Are you okay?”

Ben’s words made Michael jump as they broke through the silence.

“I-I’ve never yelled at her like that,” Michael stumbled over his words. “I just, she’s going to be so mad at me.”

“That was kind of crazy,” Ben admitted. He certainly could never yell at his mother like that but it wasn’t difficult to imagine such a yelling match between himself and his father over their current disagreement. “But I’m sure she knows that you’re going through something hard. She’s not going to hold it against you.”

Michael looked up at him, “And you see, that makes it painfully obvious that you’ve never met my mother.”

Ben let out a small chuckle. He could hardly imagine anyone’s mother being quite that bad. Michael was surely exaggerating.

He raised a hand, dragging it back through Michael’s hair as he pinned him between himself and the wall.

“I can’t wait to meet her.”

Michael shook his head and muttered, “Don’t jinx yourself.”

Ben smiled and just leaned in and kissed him. What could he say, teenager or not, it was easy to get distracted with Michael just standing there. And it wasn’t as though Michael didn’t respond; he wanted a distraction too.

Michael sighed against his lips, hands tangling in Ben’s shirt.

For that second time that day the door burst open, but this time it was Vic who entered.

“Michael, I can’t believe you went off on your mother like-” And then he stopped short, “Oh shit.”

Ben stepped back but didn’t take his hand off of Michael’s hips.

Michael just stared back at his uncle. He wasn’t quite sure what to say as usually the situation was reversed.

“I thought you said he was straight?”

Ben muffled a laugh.

“I was wrong,” Michael replied, gripping Ben’s shirt possessively and at the same time telling him that he wasn’t helping.

Vic stared at him for a moment, “And when did this happen?”

“Last night,” Ben answered for him.

Vic took a deep breath, putting a hand to his forehead, “Now I’m going to have to call your mother and convince her to let you stay the rest of the month.”

“Uncle Vic?” Michael questioned.

“After that outburst she wants me to send you home,” Vic muttered. He rubbed his hand over his face and continued, “As it is I’m going to have to come up with some kind of punishment and we,” he motioned to the three of them, “are going to establish some ground rules if this is going to be going on under my roof.”

He looked between the two of them, “Understood?”

Michael nodded.

“Yes Sir,” Ben said.

Vic just looked at them again before sighing deeply and exiting the room.

“Do you think it makes a difference if it’s going on on his roof?” Ben asked.

Michael laughed, pressing his face against Ben’s shoulder.

Vic’s rules were stricter than Ben had expected but as the three of them sat around snacking on Chinese takeout later that night he was pretty sure he knew why.

Michael wasn’t his kid. He was the nephew that he probably spoiled rotten and the one he was trying to teach to be a man. He hadn’t gone any deeper into finding out about Michael’s father but Vic seemed to be the key influential male in Michael’s life.

And the problem was he knew how gay men were, and he’d been there so he knew what the sneaking around and closed doors meant. That of course was why if the two of them were in Michael’s room the door needed to remain open.

“So, my parents have this Fourth of July party every year,” he said, “It’s a lot of family, business associates of my dads, my mom’s co-workers and a lot of friends of mine. It’d be great if you could come.” He looked at Vic, “Both of you. I think my parents would find it comforting to see that a gay man can indeed make something of his life.”

Vic let out a laugh, “Sure, I’ll see what I can do.”

Ben turned his head to look at Michael.

“They’re going to want to meet you,” he said, “my parents. And some of the guys from the party will be there. Not Terry.”

“Who’s Terry?” Vic asked.

The two of them exchanged looks and a laugh.

“No one,” Michael told his uncle.

Vic raised an eyebrow at him, moving his gaze slowly to Ben, and back to him again. Realizing he wasn’t going to get any further information from either of them he just sighed.

“Fine, I will let you boys enjoy your secrets for now,” he relented, “I just hope you both realize the enormous debt you owe me for convincing your mother to let you stay.”

“Thanks Uncle Vic,” Michael said to him, “Really.”

Vic shook his head, “You’d just better not go off on her over the phone again this summer.”

Michael flushed, embarrassed.

“I won’t,” he promised.

Ben wasn’t sure quite what kind of support to give Michael right then. Just talking about his mother seemed to get him worked up. That made him think of his own parents and he instinctively checked his watch. It was later than he’d thought.

“I should get going,” he said aloud. “I’ve got to work in the morning and I need to catch my parents before they turn in.”

Vic nodded and Michael gave him a small smile.

“Why don’t you walk Ben out to the sidewalk?” Vic told Michael, “I’ll take care of these dishes.”

Ben gave Michael a crooked smile as he started toward the door and Michael arched an eyebrow in return.

He shoved his feet into a pair of sneakers and slammed the apartment door shut behind them. Vic just smiled to himself as he went about loading the dishes into the dishwasher. This was going to make the summer far more interesting.

“What do you think he’ll say to your mom when he calls her back?” Ben asked on the way down the stairs.

Michael shrugged.

“He’s her younger brother. I don’t know what he’ll say but he’s always had this way of getting around her, getting her to do what he wants.”

“So, you’re sure you’re going to be staying?”

“I hope so,” Michael nodded, “I really hope so.”

“Me too,” Ben agreed. “I mean, I don’t see how she could force you to come home.”

“My mother is at least as persuasive as my uncle.”

Ben raised an eyebrow as they headed out the front door, “Did you inherit this power of persuasion?”

Michael smirked, “You’ll see.”

Ben smiled in response, “I have to work tomorrow, and I have some writing I want to do but I’ll give you a call at Vic’s, give you directions to my place.”

“Okay,” Michael nodded.

Ben leaned down and gave him a quick, sweet kiss, “Bye.”

Michael waited until he had disappeared down the block before turning and walking back upstairs, a wide smile plastered across his face.

“Where have you been all day?” his father was sitting in the living room as he came in the front door.

“Spent the day with a friend.” Ben replied as he hung up his keys and entered the room. He was wary of starting another argument with his father.

“You’ve been disappearing a lot lately.” Mr. Bruckner was watching him.

“I have a life, Dad.” Ben said, spreading his hands out to his sides, “It’s the summer, I have friends in the city, quite a few actually.”

“Your mother thinks you’re seeing someone.” He made it obvious that he didn’t appreciate his son’s smart tone.

Ben fell quiet. Well, this was certainly easier than he’d expected it to be.

Mr. Bruckner looked up over his newspaper. “Ben?”

“I invited him to the party later this week,” Ben told his father. “His uhh… his name’s Michael. He’s staying with his uncle for the summer.”

“His uncle?”

“He lives in Pittsburg with his mother, but he comes up to visit his uncle during the summer. He’s a few years younger than I am but we’ve been spending a lot of time together. We decided to just give it a try and see where it goes.”

“Just what you need, another distraction.”

Ben sighed deeply, “Look, I’ve got some writing to do and I have to work in the morning so I’m going to go upstairs. You can tell Mom if you want. If you don’t I will tomorrow but I am not having this conversation with you tonight.”

He turned to leave the room.

“Ben.” His father’s voice stopped him. He stopped but didn’t turn around.

“I’m sorry, I’m sure Michael’s a nice boy. It’s been a long day at work.”

Ben started walking again, hurrying past his mother on his way up the stairs. He barely responded to her greeting and shut the door to his room securely behind him.

As he opened his latest writing project on his computer he cursed. His father had never liked any of his past flings, and he had a feeling that he wouldn’t be too fond of Michael. It bothered him that he seemed to be doing everything wrong in his father’s eyes.

Rooftops (Chapter 3)

Fri, 16 Nov 2007 22:21:18 GMT

Rooftops
Chapter 3

Ben found himself dressing for work later in the week. It was still barely dawn, but even at the early hour he was wide awake, ready to dive into his work to waste away the day. He always looked forward to the weekends, the promise of excitement and the parties his friends were always throwing.

He wandered into the kitchen, digging through the fridge for a piece of fruit to eat along with his coffee on the walk to work.

The house was so quiet at this time of morning, but he didn’t hear anything moving.

“Sweetheart.”

He jumped backward at the sound of his mother’s voice, hand going to chest.

“Jesus Mom,” he gasped, “Don’t sneak up on someone this time or morning.”

“I’m sorry Ben,” she said, “but you haven’t been around much the past few days.”

He looked at her, closing the fridge door, his fist closed around an apple. She knew why he had been avoiding the house him all week. She wanted him to sit and talk, have a reasonable conversation with his father.

He couldn’t. He felt that his father couldn’t be reasonable about it either. Ben understood where he was coming from but his father did not even try to understand what he said, so there was no point in talking.

“I’ve been busy,” he told her.

“Mmhmm…” she nodded, “busy avoiding your father. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

“He has an unfair advantage,” Ben mumbled, “My reasoning isn’t strong enough, and I know that, but he won’t even listen to me, or even let me build up a decent argument.”

He moved past his mother to the coffee pot, pouring the steaming liquid into a travel mug. He wasn’t going to let a conversation with his mother make him late.

“He just wants what’s best for you.”

“He doesn’t know what’s best for me.”

“Benjamin,” she clearly didn’t like his tone.

“Sorry,” he shook his head. This was the reason he had avoided the house all week, hiding out at Brandon’s, or another friend’s place, usually swinging by Michael’s uncle’s apartment at some point, even if just for an hour or so.

“I just feel like he doesn’t listen to me, Mom,” Ben said, “I’ve got to work up to a place where I can reason with him before I talk to him.”

His mother nodded, “I’ll talk to him Ben. But in a week you had better be ready to talk to him.”

She reached up to fix his hair a bit.

“Promise me.“

I’ve got to get to work, Mom,” Ben excused himself. Picking up the coffee cup he headed quickly out the front door.

-

Work was a café that he and his friends had frequented during high school. Ben had been working the front counter since his senior year, and occasionally ducked out back to cook. They were working on teaching him everything this summer so that he could fill in for just about everyone.

Letting himself in through the backdoor he waved hello to the cooks who seemed to be wide awake, and the owner, a short little blonde woman, running around out front.

“Morning Joan,” he said brightly, pouring himself another cup of coffee.

“Morning Ben, get to work,” she said, hurrying past him and back to the storeroom for more place settings.

He grinned and started popping muffins out of the trays and setting them up in the displays.

“Hey Bruckner, unlock the door,” Tino yelled from the kitchen as the clock hit seven-thirty.

Ben flipped the sign and walked back behind the counter, making a green tea which he handed off to Joan without a word, and pouring variations of coffee for the half dozen regulars who walked in the door just in time to receive their orders. That was what he loved about this place. It was a little hole-in-the-wall in this huge city. Most people didn’t know about it unless they had been told and the clientele was pretty regular.

He was surprised when his mother didn’t stop by on her way to work as she usually did but figured it probably had something to do with their exchange in the kitchen that morning.

Near eleven Brandon came in on his way to work.

“Benny-boy,” he called happily, “how goes the sandwich-making?”

“Not too bad, I’ll get out early.” Ben said with a shrug, “So, what can I get you?”

“Hmm…” Brandon perused the board for a moment, “Classic Reuben today, I think.”

“No problem.”

Ben glanced around. Business was slow, as it typically was on weekdays. He nodded for Brandon to come stand with him as he made the sandwich.“What’s up?” Brandon asked, leaning on the barrier at the front of the counter.

“Still having that party tomorrow night, right?”

“Of course I am,” Brandon grinned. “Have you ever known me to cancel a party? What, you want to sleep on the couch again?”

“Umm… maybe, but that’s not exactly why I was asking.”

“Ask away,” Brandon invited him, running his fingers through his short, dark hair.

“I was wondering if I could bring a friend with me.”

“A friend?” Brandon raised an eyebrow. “Someone I know?”

“Maybe,” Ben shrugged. “His name’s Michael. He’s staying in an apartment on the fourth floor for most of July. We’ve been hanging out a lot over the past few days when I’ve had time off.”

“Vic Grassi’s nephew?” Brandon asked, “Isn’t he in high school or something?”

“He’s going to be a senior this year.”

Eyebrows went up, “Robbing the cradle are we?”

“It’s nothing like that,” Ben said, “We’re just friends. You know, it’s nice to have someone who doesn’t have to work and can actually relate to all the shit going on with my parents this summer.”

“Ah, the young and their daddy-drama,” Brandon teased.

“You want me to drop your sandwich on the floor before I hand it to you?” Ben asked.

“Yeah man, you can bring him. As long as Vic isn’t going to come down and kick my ass for serving the kid beer I don’t care that much.”

“Good,” he tossed the wrapped sandwich over the divider at his friend. “Get out of here or you’re going to be late for work.”

-

Michael walked quickly down the street on his way home from the gym. He could use Vic’s membership so he found himself going every morning when Vic was either working or staying around the house.

He had to pick up lunch at a café several blocks from his workout. He didn’t remember the place but Vic had said he’d been there several years before and called in an order for them.

He saw the bright green sign that marked the entrance before he saw anything else, and when he stepped inside he stopped dead in his tracks.

“So, is this your other favorite spot for avoiding your parents?” he asked.

“Hey,” Ben smiled as he turned around, “Who let you in on this little escape?”

“My uncle,” Michael said with a shrug, “Do you have an order back there for Grassi?”

“Grassi,” Ben turned and began looking through the bags on a shelf. “Here we go.”

“Thanks,” Michael dug the money Vic had given him out of his pocket.

“Not a problem,” Ben guaranteed, actually taking a good look at Michael as he rang up the order and took the money, “You on your way back from the gym or something?”

“Yeah, might as well take advantage of Vic’s membership while I’m here.”

Ben nodded, “Yeah, I think I’ll get over there for a while after I get out of here today.”

Mentally Michael was drooling over the idea of seeing Ben at the gym. Trying to keep a straight face he nodded.

“So, tomorrow night, what’s up with that?”

“The party is at Brandon’s place, the guy living two floors down from you. It’s room 205, but I’ll come up to your place when I get there. You sure your uncle doesn’t mind you going with all the drinking and shit that’ll probably be going on?”

Michael grinned, with a slight nod. “Like I said the other day, Brian and I probably get in more trouble in Pittsburgh than I could get in here.”

“Don’t say that until you’ve been to one of Brandon’s parties.” Ben said.

“Okay, well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Yeah, I’ll try to swing by a little early, guarantee Vic I won’t bring you home too drunk.”

“Shh… not so loud,” Michael laughed, starting to back away from the counter.

“See you later Michael.”

“Bye Ben,” he replied, slipping out the door.

There was no one else in line to order so Ben just stared after him for a moment.

“I’ll admit he has a cute little ass, but stop staring sweetheart, you’re starting to drool,” Joan spoke from right behind him.

He jumped, turning back to see the small woman standing there with a grin across her face.

“I… I wasn’t-”

“Right Ben,” she patted his arm, “deny it a bit more.”

Ben tried to stutter a reply but she disappeared back into the kitchen quickly. He just stood there at the counter. That wasn’t how things were with Michael, absolutely not. He didn’t have a crush, did he?

-

“What do you wear to a college party?” Michael asked, balancing the phone between his face and shoulder.

There was silence at the other end of the phone for a moment. Michael thought maybe he’d lost the connection to Pittsburgh.

“Nothing that you own.”

Really, he should have expected that.

“You’re not helping Brian.”

“Well, what did you expect, Mikey?” he asked, chuckling, “Do you really want me to drop my brutal honesty in order to be supportive?”

“In this case, yeah, it’d be nice.” Michael looked around at the mess he’d made of the guest room.

“Fine then,” he continued, “What, that I own would be remotely acceptable to your high standards?”

Brian laughed again and Michael readied himself for further ridicule.

“Okay, let me think,” Brian said, “Do you still have that plain black t-shirt, and those jeans I told you to buy?”

“Uh huh,” Michael said, looking around, “Umm… somewhere.”

He continued looking as he asked, “So what are you doing tonight?”

“It’s Friday night.”

“Never mind, how stupid of me,” Michael smiled, “how’s Babylon without me?”

“The same as Babylon with you, minus the annoying comments,” Brian said before falling silent. Michael could just see him, standing there, admiring himself in the mirror, tweaking his outfit, just so, to make it perfect.

“So this guy,” Brian finally spoke, “I want details.”

“Brian, for crying out loud, I already told you. He’s straight.”

“Straight college jocks do not ask high school age queers to parties for no reason. Trust me Mikey, he either wants in your pants or wants to see you get your ass kicked by a bunch of his jock friends.”

Michael rolled his eyes.

“The question is what do you want to do to him?”

“Shut up Brian,” Michael replied without thinking.

Brian was quiet for a moment.

“You are so pathetic. Seriously, you’ve known the guy for less than a week and you’re already pining.”

“Leave me alone Brian.”

“So what’s he look like? You need to at least give me a mental image of what you’ve been whacking off to since you left.”

“What, so you can ridicule me some more?”

Brian’s silence was affirmation enough.

Michael sighed and continued on regardless. “He’s maybe a little shy of six feet, blondish, blue eyes…” he trailed off, trying to think of a way to describe Ben. “He’s football-playerish, you know, like Kevin Nichols, kind of big.”

“Mikey…” Brian sighed, “You could do so much better.”

“Screw off. He’s a good guy, and he’s really smart, and…” He wasn’t sure what to say that Brian wouldn’t absolutely grill him for.

“Okay Michael,” Brian was grinning from ear to ear.

“Shut up, Brian.”

“You’d just better hope I don’t tell you mom,” he warned, “By the way, I got an earful about how you’re an ungrateful little-”

He cut off suddenly as the sound of yelling echoed from somewhere within the Kinney house. Cursing himself silently he listened to Brian yell back and the further exchange between himself and his father. By far the most audible sound was the lock on Brian’s bedroom door sliding closed.

“Hey Mikey,” Brian asked, “You left your bedroom window unlocked right.”

“Yeah Brian, I did,” Michael guaranteed. He knew Brian would never take his key even though Deb had offered one to him time and time again in the past three years.

“I want an update tomorrow, Mikey. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye Brian.” He hung up the phone.

Finally locating the shirt Brian had told him to wear he collapsed back across the bed sighing. The decision to go to this party with Ben had been the easiest decision he’d made all summer. Thing with Brian were strange because he felt like there was nothing he could do to help out his friend from so far away. Things with his mother… he didn’t even want to comment on it.

“Michael!” Vic called, “Come have some dinner! If you’re going to be drinking tonight you don’t want to do it on an empty stomach.”

Michael sat up and looked around his room. Okay, his priorities were definitely to eat and clean.

-

Ben knocked on the door for the fourth time that week, and as usual it was Vic who answered.

“Evening Ben.”

“Hi Vic.”

Vic stepped aside to let Ben into the apartment, pointing toward a room off to the left. Ben had never really come into the apartment before, as he and Michael usually went out but it was a nice place, an obvious bachelor pad.

He gave Vic a nod and started over toward the room, knocking and not waiting for a response before he opened the door.

Michael looked up and almost gasped as he caught sight of Ben. Why were some straight men so good looking? Ben wore a light blue colored shirt, buttoned up halfway and he looked… There weren’t words.

“Hey, you ready to head down?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Michael nodded, shoving his feet into his shoes. It was just as late as it was when he and Brian went off to Babylon back home.

“Don’t get in trouble,” Vic said from the door of the bathroom. He was heading out for his own night on the town.

“And don’t worry about checking in when you get back.”

“Thanks Uncle Vic,” Michael called over his shoulder as he reached the door, “Oh, and call Ma at the diner before you head out and tell her Brian’s sleeping in my room tonight.”

He closed the door before Vic could reply.

Ben threw him a sideways glance as they started down the stairs.

“What was that about?”

“This place back home is closer to my place. Brian tends to just crash there when I’m home so I gave him my key while I’m away.” He was lying through his teeth but it wasn’t his place to talk about Brian’s home life.

Ben just shrugged and knocked on the door to Brandon’s apartment. He knew Michael wasn’t quite being honest but wasn’t going to push.

Instead he grinned widely as Brandon opened the door.

“Benny Boy!” he cheered, “It’s about time you got here.”

He stepped out and hugged Ben enthusiastically, pounding him on the back.

Ben smiled and greeted him, “Brandon, this is Michael.”

“Good to meet you kid,” Brandon shook Michael’s hand, passing him a condom.

Michael laughed and discreetly slipped his hand into his pocket. Yeah, like that was going to happen tonight.

Then he stepped inside the apartment with the two of them and after a moment of looking around it hit him.

The music, the men, the lighting; it was all unusually familiar.

“Holy shit,” he said simply.

Ben grinned from behind him.

“Yeah, it’s never boring when Brandon throws a party.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me,” he gaped and Ben passed him a beer.

Ben smirked and gave a shrug, “Tell you what?”

Michael shoved him playfully. There wasn’t a single woman in the place, the music and lights Brandon had going were reminiscent of Babylon, and just like the club there were several couples pushed up against the wall. It took of the pressure and made him feel so much less lost in New York without Brian.

“That you’re gay.”

“It’s not obvious?”

Michael caught on to Ben’s teasing, and shoved him again, taking a sip of his beer.

“Asshole,” he laughed. Maybe tonight wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

And there it was; he was welcomed into this group of people that Ben seemed so familiar and comfortable with. People introduced themselves and grabbed a drink. Michael couldn’t help the smile that pulled across his face as he made himself at home.

More people filed in the door and a few more drinks were pushed into Michael’s hand as he and Ben made conversation with some of the other guests.

Brandon was in the middle of explaining something job-related to a few people when Michael caught Ben looking away from the group. He followed Ben’s gaze.

There was a guy across the room, hot and most definitely cruising Ben.

Michael nudged Ben. When he looked down Michael nodded his head at the figure across the room.

“Go.”

“You’re here as my guest, there’s always next time.”

“Ben, it’s okay,” Michael tried to argue with him, only to be stopped by a hand coming down on his shoulder.

“You want to dance?”

Michael looked up at the figure. Something about the guy; the way he looked, the way he’d asked, made Michael uneasy, but he really did want Ben to go off and see that guy, enjoy himself.

He glanced back at Ben for just a moment, receiving a small smile before he replied.

“Sure.”

“Hey Terry,” Ben nodded.

Terry greeted him in response, his eyes still on Michael.

“Go,” Michael told Ben as he began walking toward the center of the room with Terry.

Ben watched as Terry and Michael went off to the center of the room where people were dancing. He’d never been a fan of the particular friend of Brandon’s but didn’t see that much harm could be done. Seeing nothing going wrong after a moment he started across the room. A pair of cool green eyes was on him and he planned to take advantage of it.

Their exchange was brief and before he knew it Ben found himself being pushed up against the wall, the guy’s hands sliding up and under his shirt.

Smiling, and opening his eyes just slightly, he moved to kiss the stranger’s neck.

He grinned to himself. It looked like he wasn’t the only one getting lucky tonight. Terry was wrapped tightly around Michael, leaning down and talking in his ear. They were edging toward the edge of the crowd, in the direction of the guest bedroom that Brandon tried to keep open at his parties.

He moaned as the guy moved down to his neck, hands working to unbutton Ben’s shirt and push it back over his shoulders. He closed his eyes tightly and took a deep breath. It had been far too long since he’d done this at a party.

When he opened his eyes again, just to shift his grip, he glanced around the room once more.

Terry turned slightly and he caught sight of Michael, and more importantly the slightly panicked look that was etched across Michael’s face. He was pushing at Terry, trying to get him to back off.

As it was Terry didn’t seem to be getting the message. He leaned down and kissed Michael hard.

Michael pulled away as much as he could with Terry’s arms wrapped tightly around him.

“No.”

Ben saw more than he heard the words escape Michael’s mouth.

Terry tried again and again Michael pushed him back.

“Fuck you.”

Ben knew from years of experience that Terry wasn’t one to let people talk to him like that without consequences.

True to his character Terry slammed Michael back against the wall, pinning his arms.

Ben actually heard the cry that Michael emitted in both surprise and pain.

He didn’t even realize he had moved until he was across the room, putting himself physically between Michael and Terry, pushing the latter back.

“Back the fuck off,” he warned firmly.

Terry would be pissed but he was smaller than Ben. People were staring now too and he didn’t want to look like a bully.

“What the hell are you bringing a high school kid to a party for anyway?” he snapped back, “You shouldn’t have brought him if he’s not up for the agenda.”

“Maybe you should learn that you’re not that good a lay,” Ben snapped back, “so stop trying to pressure people into bed.”

Terry clenched his fists and for a minute Ben thought he was actually going to hit him, but Terry just shook his head and turned and walked away.

A few people were still staring but most went back to their own conversations, and their own tricks. Ben saw the guy he’d been with roll his eyes and disappear back into the crowd.

Well, that was the end of that endeavor.

He finally turned to Michael.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Michael said with a nod.

“Come on,” Ben told him, “We’re getting out of here.”

He grabbed a half-empty bottle of rum off the table as they passed through the room. He led Michael up the stairs, past Vic’s floor and to the roof. Even as the door slammed shut behind them Ben didn’t say a word, just collapsed into one of the lawn chairs residents had left up there and taken a swig of the burning liquid.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought you there,’ he said.

“I was fine,” Michael assured him.

Ben laughed bitterly, “Yeah, you looked fine.”

Michael shook his head, “Ben, in case you haven’t noticed I’m not that big a guy.” He held his arms out to his sides as though to emphasize the point, “Do you really think shit like that hasn’t happened to me before?”

“Then you should have known how to get out of that situation.”

“I do,” Michael insisted, getting a bit agitated, “I was just trying to do it in a way that wouldn’t create a scene. You know, I didn’t want to embarrass you.”

Ben deflated. He’d done a good enough job of that on his own.

“I’m sorry, Michael,” he sighed, “I’ve just had one too many shitty experiences with guys like Terry.”

“Including Terry?” Michael was obviously referring to the comment Ben had made downstairs.

Ben sighed again, “You know, when you look back on high school in a few years you’re going to realize that you did a lot of stupid stuff.”

Michael laughed at that and Ben let out a chuckle.

An awkward silence settled between them and Ben took another sip out of the bottle. He looked up as he swallowed finding Michael staring at him.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Michael said immediately, looking away, “Don’t worry about it.”

“You always do that,” Ben told him, not quite annoyed, but wishing Michael trusted him, “I’m not going to bite your head off. Just say what’s on your mind.”

Michael watched him for a moment, sorting out his thoughts.

“I thought maybe you’d just had too much to drink the other night,” he started, “but then you brought me to that party and I just…”

He seemed to get stuck there.

“Just say it Michael.”

“Why’d you kiss me the other night?”

Ben just stared back at Michael. He honestly didn’t know what to say. Michael was cute, and that was what he had been thinking the first night, but he wouldn’t say it now. Sure, he hadn’t known Michael all that long but their conversations had been a hell of a lot deeper than anything he’d had with his friends or his roommates back at school.

Michael took his silence as regret.

“Forget it,” he turned his back on Ben, leaning against the wall and looking out over the street.

Ben stared at him. Why had he been so worried about bringing Michael to the party? Why had he felt that twinge of jealousy when Michael had walked off with Terry? And so enraged when Terry had shoved him? This was one of the things he hated about himself, that feelings like these sprung up out of nowhere.

Ben set the bottle down on the ground and pushed himself up out of his chair, all the while watching Michel. He didn’t even glance back at Ben; he was too distracted by his thoughts.

Ben walked up behind Michael and put his arms against the wall on either side of Michael’s body, trapping him there just as effectively as Terry had downstairs. He felt a shiver run through the younger man so he stepped closer. He knew what the intended effect of his actions was.

“Michael,” he said quietly.

Michael sighed, his shoulders slumping a little, but he turned around to face Ben. He was still trapped by Ben’s arms so there was nowhere else for him to look than up into Ben’s face.

Ben couldn’t think that Michael looked anything short of lost as he tried to flash a wry grin up at Ben.

He let a genuine grin pull at his lips in response, noting the way that Michael was staring up at him.

This time it was more than the courage from the alcohol that made him lean down and kiss Michael, wrapping an arm around his back and pulling them a few steps from the wall.

Michael tensed up, hesitating, but Ben didn’t pull back. After a moment Michael wrapped his arm around the one that Ben was using to support him, pulling the two of them closer together and kissing him back.

When Ben finally pulled back he needed to catch his breath. Looking down he saw a blush across Michael’s face. He was breathing hard too, looking up at Ben with a smile across his face.