Game Changer - Chapter 12/35
Category: Slash - Dan (Ashcroft) & Jones
Rating: NC17
Summary: All Jones wants is for Dan to come home
Warnings: ALL THE SWEARING, tw for indirect mention/content involving past trauma and sexual abuse
Word count: 4103
Jones checks the time on his phone. One seventeen. He’s been wandering the streets looking for Dan for two and a half hours. He can’t even keep the torch light steady he’s shaking so hard and he can’t feel his hands.
The logical part of Jones tells him that if Dan doesn’t want to be found, Jones isn’t going to find him. Defeated, he walks back towards the flat, re-checking alleys and parked cars.
When he gets back to the flat he pulls on a jumper and drops onto his couch, burying his face in his hands. How did this happen? What even happened? Where the hell was Dan? A single tear of frustration rolls down Jones’s cheek and he punches his pillow.
It’s his fault, he tells himself as he curls up on the couch. Why had he pushed Dan so hard? He should’ve stopped altogether when Dan first said there was a problem. He should’ve supported Dan and listened to him. Without realizing it, Jones succumbs to his exhaustion and falls into a deep sleep.
The sound of the front door wakes Jones up and he desperately hopes everything he remembers was just a dream, but Dan’s couch is empty. The door swings open and he leaps to his feet.
“Dan!”
“No, it’s me,” Claire says and Jones’s heart sinks into his stomach. “Jones what’s wrong?”
“Nothing I’ve just gotta go out,” he says putting on his jacket and slipping out the door before Claire can ask any more questions.
When Jones walks into the café Monika waves and he rushes up to her, swerving around people and cutting to the front of the line, ignoring the noises of disapproval from behind him.
“Listen, Monika, is Dan supposed to work today?”
“Not until lunch time,” she says in confusion.
“Here’s my cell phone number,” he says as he scribbles it on a napkin and hands it to her. “Call me when he shows up for work, okay.”
“Okay?”
“Can I get some espresso or something?”
After downing his three espressos, Jones checks various pubs, clubs, and restaurants to no avail. Now what’s he supposed to do? What do you do when the man you love runs out of your flat and doesn’t come home? Jones kicks a bin in frustration and curses loudly. A few people stare. He can’t very well put up some posters ‘Lost Man please return to Jones’ and he’s not calling the police.
“Fuck!” he spits again angrily. His mobile goes off and he answers it, his heart leaping into his throat.
“Dan?”
“It’s Monika.”
“Is he there?” Jones asks hopefully.
“No he hasn’t shown up.”
Jones leans his head against the brick wall beside him.
“Okay,” he says. “I don’t think he’s going to come in to work today, Monika. He’s… taking a sick day.”
Jones trudges back to the flat.
“Where’ve you been? What the fuck is going on?” Claire asks.
“I can’t find Dan,” he says monotonously.
“What do you mean you can’t find him?”
“He left last night, he left the flat, but he didn’t say where he was going and I haven’t heard from him since and no one knows where he is.”
Claire stares back at him in shock and confusion, “But- he- what?”
Jones nods solemnly, “I don’t know what to do, Claire.”
“Well if he went out last night then he’s probably just drunk somewhere.”
“Where though?” Jones asks.
“I dunno, Jones. He could be anywhere. Dan does weird things sometimes. He used to disappear on us when he was a teenager all the time.”
“I have to be at work in an hour, can you please just call me if he turns up?”
“Sure,” Claire says and Jones starts to pack up his equipment.
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Another full day goes by and still there’s no sign of Dan.
“Would you quit pacing?” Claire says in annoyance.
“Sorry,” Jones says, dropping onto the couch, his legs shaking restlessly.
Claire shoots him another look but doesn’t say anything.
“Jones, if he doesn’t want to be found and just needs some time alone, then all we can do is wait for him,” Ennis says.
“But we don’t know that’s what’s going on,” Jones retorts.
“Jones, I’ve told you, he used to do this all the time. He’ll go out and bar hop all night for weeks if he can.”
“But what if something bad’s happened to him?”
“Jones, he can take care of himself. I’m sure he’s fine, he’ll turn up in a couple days.”
“We’re supposed to leave for Epsom in three days,” Jones says, running a hand over his face.
“Dan’s going with you for Christmas?” she asks.
“Yeah, my dad wants to meet him,” Jones mumbles, too tired to make more of an effort.
“Well maybe that’s why he’s left,” Claire says. “He doesn’t really do the whole parents thing. Or maybe he’s just getting ready or something.”
“But-” he starts.
“We’re going to bed, Jones,” she says, getting to her feet. “Get some sleep.”
Claire and Ennis go into the bedroom and Jones rings Dan again.
“Dan Ashcroft, you know what to do. And if you don’t you’re an idiot so I don’t want a message from you anyway.”
Jones hears the tone and sighs, trying to keep his voice from cracking, “Dan, it’s Jones again. Please come home, Dan, please. I love you Dan. I don’t know what happened the other night but I don’t care, I just want to know you’re safe, okay? Please come home. Or call me back and let me know you’re okay. No matter what, I’m not going to be mad or anything. Please come home Dan, I love-”
But the answer machine cuts off before he can finish.
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Jones considers calling Stanley Knives and taking the day off to look for Dan again, but Claire convinces him not to. Ennis leaves the flat early to go home so it’s just him and Claire.
“Have you rang him?” Jones asks.
“Of course I have,” she says through a mouthful of cereal.
“Did you leave a message?”
Claire sighs, “No, I didn’t leave a message. Jones please-”
But he’s already hit speed dial and Dan’s voicemail message comes on. Jones hands her the phone.
“Hi Dan, it’s Claire. Listen I know you’re probably doing that thing you do where you go off and try and hide from the world and drink away your problems like our dad, but me and Jones think you need to come home now. You can’t run forever Dan. Please come home.”
She hangs up the phone and gives it back to Jones, who shakes his head.
“I’m going to work,” he says flatly and grabs his coat.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Jones opens the front door of the flat, heaving his bag inside. It feels like it weighs two hundred pounds, but Jones knows it’s just because he hasn’t slept in days. He can fill himself up with caffeine for days on end, but the physical exhaustion remains. He drags himself over to Dan’s couch, lying down and trying to find a spot that smells like him.
Through half-closed eyes, Jones notices the bedroom door is closed. He wonders absentmindedly what Claire is doing home so early. As he closes his eyes, lying still against the couch, he can hear very faint sounds, like voices. He sits up in confusion wondering if the radio or telly wasn’t turned off properly, but when he gets up to check, he realizes that the telly isn’t there.
He blinks in confusion, staring at the empty spot where the telly used to be. The faint background noises change from voices to music, and Jones locates the source of the noise as coming from behind the closed bedroom door.
His heart skips a beat as he suddenly realizes who might be on the other side as he walks towards it. Jones pauses with his hand hovering over the door handle. He takes a deep, steadying breath and turns it, slowly pushing open the door.
“Oh my god,” he breathes, his eyes brimming with tears. He has to fight back the urge to run to him and hold him in his arms as he croaks, “Dan!”
He’s sitting on the bed with the blankets wrapped around his whole body, draped over his head and shoulders and making him look like an old Russian lady. His face is dirty and his eyes are red and puffy. He looks about ten years older than the last time Jones saw him, and his body is still trembling. He looks up at Jones with vacant eyes that break his heart.
“Can I…?” Jones trails off, not knowing what to say as he approaches the side of the bed.
Dan nods and fishes through the blankets for the remote as Jones sinks down onto the bed beside him, leaving about half a metre between them. Dan pauses the movie and casts his eyes to the floor, turning slightly in his cocoon of blankets towards Jones. He takes a shuddering breath.
“I’m so sorry,” he manages, barely louder than a whisper.
“Dan, please, don’t,” Jones says, struggling just as much to get the words out. “You’ve got nothing to apologize for, Dan. I’m so sorry, Dan. Can you ever forgive me?”
“I owe you an explanation,” Dan says, so low Jones has to crane his neck to hear him.
“You don’t owe me anything Dan. You don’t have to explain a thing, okay? I’m just glad you’re safe and you’re home. There’s nothing you need to explain, okay?”
“No, Jones,” Dan says sadly. “Really, I do need to explain this to you. For me, okay?”
“Of course,” Jones says. “I’d do anything for you Dan. I just want you to be okay.”
Dan takes another shaky breath and starts from the beginning. He spares Jones as many of the sickening details as he can and Jones stares silently back at him in horror as he tells him the story of the sexual abuse inflicted by his step-father. Dan barely blinks telling it back, not sure if he’s capable of crying any more than he has already in the last few days. Tears spill over Jones’s cheeks; however, when Dan reaches the assault when he was twelve. When he stops speaking the two of them sit in silence for a few minutes as Jones struggles to regain control of himself.
“You were eight years old?” he asks, his voice cracking. Dan nods, expressionless. Rage flares up in Jones and he suddenly stands, making Dan jump. “Who the fuck is this Jose guy? Where does he live? I’m going to fucking kill him!”
“Jones-” Dan says in shock.
“You were eight fucking years old! Who the fuck does that to an eight year old kid? It’s disgusting, I want to fucking bash that son of a bitch’s face in!”
“Jones!”
“And your mum, too! How can you choose a fucking rapist over your own nine year old son! I can’t believe she just fucking let it happen! That’s sick, Dan! She’s just as bad as he is!” Jones’s chest shakes with sobs as he continues, pacing up and down the room. “What a sick fucking bastard. Does Claire have any fucking idea what you went through for her?”
“No! No, Jones, please, she can’t know! You can’t tell her!”
“Dan you had to go through that for four fucking years to try and protect her from it! And she treats you like you’re nothing but a selfish prick! What kind of sadistic piece of shit threatens an eight year old child with going after his baby sister if he doesn’t let him fuck him up instead?”
“Jones, please promise me you won’t tell Claire!”
“How did it stop when you were thirteen? Please tell me you fucking knifed that cunt.”
“Jones!” Dan says in shock. As taken aback as he is with how Jones is reacting, Dan has to admit that it actually feels… comforting to have someone care so much. “Jones, come sit down.”
Jones obliges, his chest heaving, and Dan reaches out to hold his hand. Jones settles down a bit once his fingers are intertwined with Dan’s and he actually gives him a weak smile.
“No, Jones, I didn’t knife him. My mum and him got in a fight about something and she kicked him out. She said she never wanted to see him again, and we never did.”
“How come you didn’t go to the police?” Jones asks.
“Because,” Dan sighs. “Because I was just a kid, and I didn’t want anyone to ever find out. I was ashamed, and I blamed myself, which was really fucked up, and I was still scared. As long as me or Claire lived in that house I was terrified that he would come back, and I didn’t think they would believe me. My own mum didn’t believe me, I thought why would a stranger? I mean I know she didn’t actually think I was lying, I think she just couldn’t admit that it was happening because that would mean she failed as a mother, right? Except even after he was gone, she could still barely look at me, so she just ignored me.”
“That’s fucked up,” Jones mumbles.
“I know,” he says. “That’s when I started running away. I was about fourteen, but I was tall so I looked older, especially once I stared growing more stubble. I’d pretty much wander around, sleeping in skips and give the homeless guys money and then they’d buy booze and we’d share it until I could get a passible fake id. I was a wreck.”
“Is that what you’ve been doing,” Jones asks in horror. “Sleeping in skips?”
Dan hangs his head and mumbles, “Among other things.”
“Are you okay? That’s all I care about Dan, I don’t care what you’ve done or where you’ve been because you’re home now and your safe and I’ll never let anyone hurt you ever again.”
“Come here,” Dan says, opening his arms and letting the chrysalis of sheets fall around him. Jones climbs into his lap and he kisses him on the top of the head, wrapping the blankets around them both. “I love you Jones.”
“I love you too, Dan,” he says, resting his head against Dan’s grimy jumper and not caring that he smells of rubbish and alcohol and sick.
Dan hits a button and the movie begins to play again. Jones looks at the screen for the first time as a small boy and a dragon play in two stacks of hay as they sing.
“I thought you said you lost this movie,” Jones whispers.
“That’s what I told Claire,” he replies. “I used to watch this movie when I was a kid.”
“Is that why you’ve had it out for seven years?”
“Yeah. I couldn’t give it back once I had it, I dunno.”
“I do,” Jones says with a smile. “You’re a nutter, but you’re my nutter and I love every mental thing about you.”
Dan tightens his embrace around Jones as they watch the movie. When Helen Reddy starts to sing at the top of the lighthouse, Jones turns his face and gasps.
“It’s our song! I haven’t watched Pete’s Dragon since I was about five but I knew it sounded familiar!”
When the movie ends Jones breaks away from Dan and stretches, but Dan stays frozen, like a statue. Jones takes his hand in his and looks at him.
“What is it?” he asks.
“Nothing, it’s stupid,” Dan mutters and gets to his feet beside Jones.
“Tell me,” Jones says. “I bet it’s not stupid at all.”
“Well, when I used to watch the movie, you know, when I was eight and nine,” he says, struggling a bit and Jones locks eyes with him, giving him a nod that says he understands and that’s all Dan has to say. “When I would watch that bit at the end, when Elliot has to leave because there’s another little boy in trouble, well, I always used to hope that he’d show up… for me. I know it’s dumb and I was old enough to know better than to wish a dragon would turn up and rescue me and I could take Claire away and find a new family, but… I don’t know, I always did.”
“That’s not stupid at all,” Jones says, his eyes glistening again. “You had every reason to wish a magical dragon would come and save you, Dan. I’m actually really impressed and proud that you could believe in magic like that, even with everything that was happening to you. Dan, me and you don’t have to do anything you aren’t comfortable with okay? We can take things as slowly as you need, I don’t want you to try and push yourself for me. Your safety is my number one priority, okay, and there is nothing that I won’t do for you. All you have to do is say the word and I’ll stop if you aren’t ready, I promise. I could just kiss you for the rest of my life and be happy.”
Dan blushes and looks at the floor, “I never found a magic dragon to save me. To protect me from the people hurting me, or to help me believe in love.”
Jones hugs him tightly, wishing he could somehow make Dan feel better.
“I never found my Elliot the dragon, but I got something even better,” he says and holds Jones’s face in his hands, staring into his eyes. “You.”
“Me?” he asks, astonished.
“Yep. You, Jones. You make me happy and you taught me what love is. I’ve never felt safe the way I do when you’re with me with anyone else before. I love you Jones. You’re my best mate, but you’re also my soul mate.”
Jones kisses him, and they’re both crying, and Dan’s mouth tastes disgusting, but he doesn’t care. He just keeps kissing him until they both run out of air and have to break apart. Jones smiles and they both simultaneously start to laugh.
“I’m sorry, I’m probably repulsive aren’t I?” Dan says.
“Just a bit,” Jones laughs in reply.
“I’ll go take a bath,” he says with a slight blush.
“We still have a couple hours before Claire gets home, could I come with you? I won’t if you don’t want me to-”
“I do want you to,” Dan cuts in. “I love you Jones, and I still want to be intimate with you, I just don’t think I can- I mean, I’m just not ready for… things, y’know, cock-involving things.”
At this Jones bursts out in laughter.
“I’m sorry,” he says and Dan gives him a playful push. “Cock-involving things. That’s the best term I’ve ever heard in my life.”
“Shut up,” Dan says, smiling as they climb the stairs hand-in-hand.
When they reach the top of the stairs Jones pushes himself onto his tiptoes and kisses Dan again.
“From hence onward, all sexual conduct will be hereby deemed ‘cock-involving things’,” he announces and knocks twice on the bathroom wall. “Court is adjourned.”
“You are a closeted geek,” Dan says.
“Am not!” Jones protests.
Dan suddenly goes shy again as the bath fills up and Jones starts to strip down.
“Do you mind, um…” he trails off and Jones closes his eyes, facing the corner of the room. “Okay, you don’t have to put yourself in the corner.”
The corner of Dan’s mouth twitches and he shakes his head at him once he’s in the bath and has given Jones permission to open his eyes.
“You’re not wearing your pants again are you?” Jones asks slyly as he submerges himself in the foamy water.
“No,” Dan says, blushing.
Jones grins and leans forward to kiss him.
“I was worried you wouldn’t be home in time for us to go to Epsom,” Jones says as they shift around in the tub and Jones starts to scrub Dan’s back with a flannel.
“Oh yeah,” Dan says. “I almost forgot. We’re leaving in two days and I haven’t started packing.”
“It’s okay,” Jones whispers into his ear. “I’ll help you.”
He’s not so much washing Dan’s back anymore, but massaging it. Dan scrubs his face with the flannel as Jones kneads his tense muscles with his soft, wet hands. His fingers slide over the soapy skin of Dan’s broad shoulders and back with ease and he begins to work his shoulders, right at the base of his neck. Jones gently kisses one of Dan’s shoulders.
“Thank you, Jones,” Dan whispers.
“Actually, I’m quite enjoying this too,” he says, smiling as he puts pressure along the sides of Dan’s spine with the heels of his palms.
“Not for this, I mean, it does feel great though. But I mean for being so…” he trails off, struggling for the right words. “I don’t know, helpful? Comforting and wonderful and for believing me and being there for me and being so supportive.”
“Sssh,” Jones croons into his ear. “Anything for you, Dan. I’m glad you told me, I hope it helps you. I’m going to be there every step of the way, okay?”
Dan turns his head and kisses him. Jones grabs his bottle of shampoo and pours out a large dollop into his palm. He runs his fingers through Dan’s hair, pulling back the stray, wet, strands along his forehead and the sides of his face.
“Just like old times,” Dan says with his eyes closed, a smile forming on his lips.
Jones smiles bashfully in response, “I’ve missed it actually.”
“Me too,” Dan admits as his fingers move along his scalp, massaging the thick lather over his head.
His fingertips pause, engulfed in his hair, and Jones kisses Dan’s earlobe. Jones combs the suds through his fine curls with his thick fingers, Dan’s head tilting back so that his face is turned upwards, towards the ceiling. The damp tips of Jones’s hair drip down his chest and back, as a subtle, thin, film of steam hovers just above the water’s surface.
Dan breathes deeply, his body completely relaxed as Jones’s fingernails gently graze his scalp, and make their way down to the base of his neck. Jones watches the movement of his hands with his eyes half-open drowsily. He brings the sides his hands to Dan’s hairline, the tips of his pinkies touching, and he runs his hands firmly over Dan’s head, foam seeping out from his hair and collecting in Jones’s cupped hands before cascading over Dan’s back and into the bathwater.
Dan scoots forward in the tub as far as he can, bringing his knees to his chest and Jones extends his arms out, leaning forward. Dan slowly leans back, and Jones grasps his vast shoulders as he descends, tilting his head back and submerging it in the water. Jones slides his hand between his shoulder blades, just beneath the base of his neck as he brings his other hand to Dan’s hair, tousling it beneath the surface of the water. A nearly opaque haze radiates around Dan’s head like a soapy halo and slowly dissipates into the surrounding water.
Jones helps lift Dan as he sits up again, covering his eyes to shield them from any traces of shampoo trickling into them. Dan extends his legs once more, pushing himself back towards Jones, who begins to slick his hair with conditioner. Jones’s hands slide over his head, and through his hair as if he’s molding clay at a pottery wheel. He combs through his slippery locks, untangling the knots until his hair flows smooth. They repeat the baptismal rinsing of Dan’s hair, and Jones runs the comb through it a final time before Dan slides back, leaning against Jones’s chest and resting his head on his shoulder.
Jones wraps his arms around Dan’s waist, resting his hands against his stomach and chest, and tilts his head so that his cheek lies against Dan’s temple. They stay like that as the water gets cold, just feeling the steady rise and fall of each other’s chests, listening to the other’s deep breaths. It’s the most tranquil moment either one of them have ever experienced, and they wish they could stay like this forever, but unfortunately, they can’t. The water’s gone cold and Jones actually starts to shiver. Their fingers and toes have gotten wrinkled, and surely Claire will be home before long, so they get out of the tub, put on some comfortable clothes to sleep in, and head downstairs to put the telly back.
Chapter 13
Rating: NC17
Summary: All Jones wants is for Dan to come home
Warnings: ALL THE SWEARING, tw for indirect mention/content involving past trauma and sexual abuse
Word count: 4103
Jones checks the time on his phone. One seventeen. He’s been wandering the streets looking for Dan for two and a half hours. He can’t even keep the torch light steady he’s shaking so hard and he can’t feel his hands.
The logical part of Jones tells him that if Dan doesn’t want to be found, Jones isn’t going to find him. Defeated, he walks back towards the flat, re-checking alleys and parked cars.
When he gets back to the flat he pulls on a jumper and drops onto his couch, burying his face in his hands. How did this happen? What even happened? Where the hell was Dan? A single tear of frustration rolls down Jones’s cheek and he punches his pillow.
It’s his fault, he tells himself as he curls up on the couch. Why had he pushed Dan so hard? He should’ve stopped altogether when Dan first said there was a problem. He should’ve supported Dan and listened to him. Without realizing it, Jones succumbs to his exhaustion and falls into a deep sleep.
The sound of the front door wakes Jones up and he desperately hopes everything he remembers was just a dream, but Dan’s couch is empty. The door swings open and he leaps to his feet.
“Dan!”
“No, it’s me,” Claire says and Jones’s heart sinks into his stomach. “Jones what’s wrong?”
“Nothing I’ve just gotta go out,” he says putting on his jacket and slipping out the door before Claire can ask any more questions.
When Jones walks into the café Monika waves and he rushes up to her, swerving around people and cutting to the front of the line, ignoring the noises of disapproval from behind him.
“Listen, Monika, is Dan supposed to work today?”
“Not until lunch time,” she says in confusion.
“Here’s my cell phone number,” he says as he scribbles it on a napkin and hands it to her. “Call me when he shows up for work, okay.”
“Okay?”
“Can I get some espresso or something?”
After downing his three espressos, Jones checks various pubs, clubs, and restaurants to no avail. Now what’s he supposed to do? What do you do when the man you love runs out of your flat and doesn’t come home? Jones kicks a bin in frustration and curses loudly. A few people stare. He can’t very well put up some posters ‘Lost Man please return to Jones’ and he’s not calling the police.
“Fuck!” he spits again angrily. His mobile goes off and he answers it, his heart leaping into his throat.
“Dan?”
“It’s Monika.”
“Is he there?” Jones asks hopefully.
“No he hasn’t shown up.”
Jones leans his head against the brick wall beside him.
“Okay,” he says. “I don’t think he’s going to come in to work today, Monika. He’s… taking a sick day.”
Jones trudges back to the flat.
“Where’ve you been? What the fuck is going on?” Claire asks.
“I can’t find Dan,” he says monotonously.
“What do you mean you can’t find him?”
“He left last night, he left the flat, but he didn’t say where he was going and I haven’t heard from him since and no one knows where he is.”
Claire stares back at him in shock and confusion, “But- he- what?”
Jones nods solemnly, “I don’t know what to do, Claire.”
“Well if he went out last night then he’s probably just drunk somewhere.”
“Where though?” Jones asks.
“I dunno, Jones. He could be anywhere. Dan does weird things sometimes. He used to disappear on us when he was a teenager all the time.”
“I have to be at work in an hour, can you please just call me if he turns up?”
“Sure,” Claire says and Jones starts to pack up his equipment.
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Another full day goes by and still there’s no sign of Dan.
“Would you quit pacing?” Claire says in annoyance.
“Sorry,” Jones says, dropping onto the couch, his legs shaking restlessly.
Claire shoots him another look but doesn’t say anything.
“Jones, if he doesn’t want to be found and just needs some time alone, then all we can do is wait for him,” Ennis says.
“But we don’t know that’s what’s going on,” Jones retorts.
“Jones, I’ve told you, he used to do this all the time. He’ll go out and bar hop all night for weeks if he can.”
“But what if something bad’s happened to him?”
“Jones, he can take care of himself. I’m sure he’s fine, he’ll turn up in a couple days.”
“We’re supposed to leave for Epsom in three days,” Jones says, running a hand over his face.
“Dan’s going with you for Christmas?” she asks.
“Yeah, my dad wants to meet him,” Jones mumbles, too tired to make more of an effort.
“Well maybe that’s why he’s left,” Claire says. “He doesn’t really do the whole parents thing. Or maybe he’s just getting ready or something.”
“But-” he starts.
“We’re going to bed, Jones,” she says, getting to her feet. “Get some sleep.”
Claire and Ennis go into the bedroom and Jones rings Dan again.
“Dan Ashcroft, you know what to do. And if you don’t you’re an idiot so I don’t want a message from you anyway.”
Jones hears the tone and sighs, trying to keep his voice from cracking, “Dan, it’s Jones again. Please come home, Dan, please. I love you Dan. I don’t know what happened the other night but I don’t care, I just want to know you’re safe, okay? Please come home. Or call me back and let me know you’re okay. No matter what, I’m not going to be mad or anything. Please come home Dan, I love-”
But the answer machine cuts off before he can finish.
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Jones considers calling Stanley Knives and taking the day off to look for Dan again, but Claire convinces him not to. Ennis leaves the flat early to go home so it’s just him and Claire.
“Have you rang him?” Jones asks.
“Of course I have,” she says through a mouthful of cereal.
“Did you leave a message?”
Claire sighs, “No, I didn’t leave a message. Jones please-”
But he’s already hit speed dial and Dan’s voicemail message comes on. Jones hands her the phone.
“Hi Dan, it’s Claire. Listen I know you’re probably doing that thing you do where you go off and try and hide from the world and drink away your problems like our dad, but me and Jones think you need to come home now. You can’t run forever Dan. Please come home.”
She hangs up the phone and gives it back to Jones, who shakes his head.
“I’m going to work,” he says flatly and grabs his coat.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Jones opens the front door of the flat, heaving his bag inside. It feels like it weighs two hundred pounds, but Jones knows it’s just because he hasn’t slept in days. He can fill himself up with caffeine for days on end, but the physical exhaustion remains. He drags himself over to Dan’s couch, lying down and trying to find a spot that smells like him.
Through half-closed eyes, Jones notices the bedroom door is closed. He wonders absentmindedly what Claire is doing home so early. As he closes his eyes, lying still against the couch, he can hear very faint sounds, like voices. He sits up in confusion wondering if the radio or telly wasn’t turned off properly, but when he gets up to check, he realizes that the telly isn’t there.
He blinks in confusion, staring at the empty spot where the telly used to be. The faint background noises change from voices to music, and Jones locates the source of the noise as coming from behind the closed bedroom door.
His heart skips a beat as he suddenly realizes who might be on the other side as he walks towards it. Jones pauses with his hand hovering over the door handle. He takes a deep, steadying breath and turns it, slowly pushing open the door.
“Oh my god,” he breathes, his eyes brimming with tears. He has to fight back the urge to run to him and hold him in his arms as he croaks, “Dan!”
He’s sitting on the bed with the blankets wrapped around his whole body, draped over his head and shoulders and making him look like an old Russian lady. His face is dirty and his eyes are red and puffy. He looks about ten years older than the last time Jones saw him, and his body is still trembling. He looks up at Jones with vacant eyes that break his heart.
“Can I…?” Jones trails off, not knowing what to say as he approaches the side of the bed.
Dan nods and fishes through the blankets for the remote as Jones sinks down onto the bed beside him, leaving about half a metre between them. Dan pauses the movie and casts his eyes to the floor, turning slightly in his cocoon of blankets towards Jones. He takes a shuddering breath.
“I’m so sorry,” he manages, barely louder than a whisper.
“Dan, please, don’t,” Jones says, struggling just as much to get the words out. “You’ve got nothing to apologize for, Dan. I’m so sorry, Dan. Can you ever forgive me?”
“I owe you an explanation,” Dan says, so low Jones has to crane his neck to hear him.
“You don’t owe me anything Dan. You don’t have to explain a thing, okay? I’m just glad you’re safe and you’re home. There’s nothing you need to explain, okay?”
“No, Jones,” Dan says sadly. “Really, I do need to explain this to you. For me, okay?”
“Of course,” Jones says. “I’d do anything for you Dan. I just want you to be okay.”
Dan takes another shaky breath and starts from the beginning. He spares Jones as many of the sickening details as he can and Jones stares silently back at him in horror as he tells him the story of the sexual abuse inflicted by his step-father. Dan barely blinks telling it back, not sure if he’s capable of crying any more than he has already in the last few days. Tears spill over Jones’s cheeks; however, when Dan reaches the assault when he was twelve. When he stops speaking the two of them sit in silence for a few minutes as Jones struggles to regain control of himself.
“You were eight years old?” he asks, his voice cracking. Dan nods, expressionless. Rage flares up in Jones and he suddenly stands, making Dan jump. “Who the fuck is this Jose guy? Where does he live? I’m going to fucking kill him!”
“Jones-” Dan says in shock.
“You were eight fucking years old! Who the fuck does that to an eight year old kid? It’s disgusting, I want to fucking bash that son of a bitch’s face in!”
“Jones!”
“And your mum, too! How can you choose a fucking rapist over your own nine year old son! I can’t believe she just fucking let it happen! That’s sick, Dan! She’s just as bad as he is!” Jones’s chest shakes with sobs as he continues, pacing up and down the room. “What a sick fucking bastard. Does Claire have any fucking idea what you went through for her?”
“No! No, Jones, please, she can’t know! You can’t tell her!”
“Dan you had to go through that for four fucking years to try and protect her from it! And she treats you like you’re nothing but a selfish prick! What kind of sadistic piece of shit threatens an eight year old child with going after his baby sister if he doesn’t let him fuck him up instead?”
“Jones, please promise me you won’t tell Claire!”
“How did it stop when you were thirteen? Please tell me you fucking knifed that cunt.”
“Jones!” Dan says in shock. As taken aback as he is with how Jones is reacting, Dan has to admit that it actually feels… comforting to have someone care so much. “Jones, come sit down.”
Jones obliges, his chest heaving, and Dan reaches out to hold his hand. Jones settles down a bit once his fingers are intertwined with Dan’s and he actually gives him a weak smile.
“No, Jones, I didn’t knife him. My mum and him got in a fight about something and she kicked him out. She said she never wanted to see him again, and we never did.”
“How come you didn’t go to the police?” Jones asks.
“Because,” Dan sighs. “Because I was just a kid, and I didn’t want anyone to ever find out. I was ashamed, and I blamed myself, which was really fucked up, and I was still scared. As long as me or Claire lived in that house I was terrified that he would come back, and I didn’t think they would believe me. My own mum didn’t believe me, I thought why would a stranger? I mean I know she didn’t actually think I was lying, I think she just couldn’t admit that it was happening because that would mean she failed as a mother, right? Except even after he was gone, she could still barely look at me, so she just ignored me.”
“That’s fucked up,” Jones mumbles.
“I know,” he says. “That’s when I started running away. I was about fourteen, but I was tall so I looked older, especially once I stared growing more stubble. I’d pretty much wander around, sleeping in skips and give the homeless guys money and then they’d buy booze and we’d share it until I could get a passible fake id. I was a wreck.”
“Is that what you’ve been doing,” Jones asks in horror. “Sleeping in skips?”
Dan hangs his head and mumbles, “Among other things.”
“Are you okay? That’s all I care about Dan, I don’t care what you’ve done or where you’ve been because you’re home now and your safe and I’ll never let anyone hurt you ever again.”
“Come here,” Dan says, opening his arms and letting the chrysalis of sheets fall around him. Jones climbs into his lap and he kisses him on the top of the head, wrapping the blankets around them both. “I love you Jones.”
“I love you too, Dan,” he says, resting his head against Dan’s grimy jumper and not caring that he smells of rubbish and alcohol and sick.
Dan hits a button and the movie begins to play again. Jones looks at the screen for the first time as a small boy and a dragon play in two stacks of hay as they sing.
“I thought you said you lost this movie,” Jones whispers.
“That’s what I told Claire,” he replies. “I used to watch this movie when I was a kid.”
“Is that why you’ve had it out for seven years?”
“Yeah. I couldn’t give it back once I had it, I dunno.”
“I do,” Jones says with a smile. “You’re a nutter, but you’re my nutter and I love every mental thing about you.”
Dan tightens his embrace around Jones as they watch the movie. When Helen Reddy starts to sing at the top of the lighthouse, Jones turns his face and gasps.
“It’s our song! I haven’t watched Pete’s Dragon since I was about five but I knew it sounded familiar!”
When the movie ends Jones breaks away from Dan and stretches, but Dan stays frozen, like a statue. Jones takes his hand in his and looks at him.
“What is it?” he asks.
“Nothing, it’s stupid,” Dan mutters and gets to his feet beside Jones.
“Tell me,” Jones says. “I bet it’s not stupid at all.”
“Well, when I used to watch the movie, you know, when I was eight and nine,” he says, struggling a bit and Jones locks eyes with him, giving him a nod that says he understands and that’s all Dan has to say. “When I would watch that bit at the end, when Elliot has to leave because there’s another little boy in trouble, well, I always used to hope that he’d show up… for me. I know it’s dumb and I was old enough to know better than to wish a dragon would turn up and rescue me and I could take Claire away and find a new family, but… I don’t know, I always did.”
“That’s not stupid at all,” Jones says, his eyes glistening again. “You had every reason to wish a magical dragon would come and save you, Dan. I’m actually really impressed and proud that you could believe in magic like that, even with everything that was happening to you. Dan, me and you don’t have to do anything you aren’t comfortable with okay? We can take things as slowly as you need, I don’t want you to try and push yourself for me. Your safety is my number one priority, okay, and there is nothing that I won’t do for you. All you have to do is say the word and I’ll stop if you aren’t ready, I promise. I could just kiss you for the rest of my life and be happy.”
Dan blushes and looks at the floor, “I never found a magic dragon to save me. To protect me from the people hurting me, or to help me believe in love.”
Jones hugs him tightly, wishing he could somehow make Dan feel better.
“I never found my Elliot the dragon, but I got something even better,” he says and holds Jones’s face in his hands, staring into his eyes. “You.”
“Me?” he asks, astonished.
“Yep. You, Jones. You make me happy and you taught me what love is. I’ve never felt safe the way I do when you’re with me with anyone else before. I love you Jones. You’re my best mate, but you’re also my soul mate.”
Jones kisses him, and they’re both crying, and Dan’s mouth tastes disgusting, but he doesn’t care. He just keeps kissing him until they both run out of air and have to break apart. Jones smiles and they both simultaneously start to laugh.
“I’m sorry, I’m probably repulsive aren’t I?” Dan says.
“Just a bit,” Jones laughs in reply.
“I’ll go take a bath,” he says with a slight blush.
“We still have a couple hours before Claire gets home, could I come with you? I won’t if you don’t want me to-”
“I do want you to,” Dan cuts in. “I love you Jones, and I still want to be intimate with you, I just don’t think I can- I mean, I’m just not ready for… things, y’know, cock-involving things.”
At this Jones bursts out in laughter.
“I’m sorry,” he says and Dan gives him a playful push. “Cock-involving things. That’s the best term I’ve ever heard in my life.”
“Shut up,” Dan says, smiling as they climb the stairs hand-in-hand.
When they reach the top of the stairs Jones pushes himself onto his tiptoes and kisses Dan again.
“From hence onward, all sexual conduct will be hereby deemed ‘cock-involving things’,” he announces and knocks twice on the bathroom wall. “Court is adjourned.”
“You are a closeted geek,” Dan says.
“Am not!” Jones protests.
Dan suddenly goes shy again as the bath fills up and Jones starts to strip down.
“Do you mind, um…” he trails off and Jones closes his eyes, facing the corner of the room. “Okay, you don’t have to put yourself in the corner.”
The corner of Dan’s mouth twitches and he shakes his head at him once he’s in the bath and has given Jones permission to open his eyes.
“You’re not wearing your pants again are you?” Jones asks slyly as he submerges himself in the foamy water.
“No,” Dan says, blushing.
Jones grins and leans forward to kiss him.
“I was worried you wouldn’t be home in time for us to go to Epsom,” Jones says as they shift around in the tub and Jones starts to scrub Dan’s back with a flannel.
“Oh yeah,” Dan says. “I almost forgot. We’re leaving in two days and I haven’t started packing.”
“It’s okay,” Jones whispers into his ear. “I’ll help you.”
He’s not so much washing Dan’s back anymore, but massaging it. Dan scrubs his face with the flannel as Jones kneads his tense muscles with his soft, wet hands. His fingers slide over the soapy skin of Dan’s broad shoulders and back with ease and he begins to work his shoulders, right at the base of his neck. Jones gently kisses one of Dan’s shoulders.
“Thank you, Jones,” Dan whispers.
“Actually, I’m quite enjoying this too,” he says, smiling as he puts pressure along the sides of Dan’s spine with the heels of his palms.
“Not for this, I mean, it does feel great though. But I mean for being so…” he trails off, struggling for the right words. “I don’t know, helpful? Comforting and wonderful and for believing me and being there for me and being so supportive.”
“Sssh,” Jones croons into his ear. “Anything for you, Dan. I’m glad you told me, I hope it helps you. I’m going to be there every step of the way, okay?”
Dan turns his head and kisses him. Jones grabs his bottle of shampoo and pours out a large dollop into his palm. He runs his fingers through Dan’s hair, pulling back the stray, wet, strands along his forehead and the sides of his face.
“Just like old times,” Dan says with his eyes closed, a smile forming on his lips.
Jones smiles bashfully in response, “I’ve missed it actually.”
“Me too,” Dan admits as his fingers move along his scalp, massaging the thick lather over his head.
His fingertips pause, engulfed in his hair, and Jones kisses Dan’s earlobe. Jones combs the suds through his fine curls with his thick fingers, Dan’s head tilting back so that his face is turned upwards, towards the ceiling. The damp tips of Jones’s hair drip down his chest and back, as a subtle, thin, film of steam hovers just above the water’s surface.
Dan breathes deeply, his body completely relaxed as Jones’s fingernails gently graze his scalp, and make their way down to the base of his neck. Jones watches the movement of his hands with his eyes half-open drowsily. He brings the sides his hands to Dan’s hairline, the tips of his pinkies touching, and he runs his hands firmly over Dan’s head, foam seeping out from his hair and collecting in Jones’s cupped hands before cascading over Dan’s back and into the bathwater.
Dan scoots forward in the tub as far as he can, bringing his knees to his chest and Jones extends his arms out, leaning forward. Dan slowly leans back, and Jones grasps his vast shoulders as he descends, tilting his head back and submerging it in the water. Jones slides his hand between his shoulder blades, just beneath the base of his neck as he brings his other hand to Dan’s hair, tousling it beneath the surface of the water. A nearly opaque haze radiates around Dan’s head like a soapy halo and slowly dissipates into the surrounding water.
Jones helps lift Dan as he sits up again, covering his eyes to shield them from any traces of shampoo trickling into them. Dan extends his legs once more, pushing himself back towards Jones, who begins to slick his hair with conditioner. Jones’s hands slide over his head, and through his hair as if he’s molding clay at a pottery wheel. He combs through his slippery locks, untangling the knots until his hair flows smooth. They repeat the baptismal rinsing of Dan’s hair, and Jones runs the comb through it a final time before Dan slides back, leaning against Jones’s chest and resting his head on his shoulder.
Jones wraps his arms around Dan’s waist, resting his hands against his stomach and chest, and tilts his head so that his cheek lies against Dan’s temple. They stay like that as the water gets cold, just feeling the steady rise and fall of each other’s chests, listening to the other’s deep breaths. It’s the most tranquil moment either one of them have ever experienced, and they wish they could stay like this forever, but unfortunately, they can’t. The water’s gone cold and Jones actually starts to shiver. Their fingers and toes have gotten wrinkled, and surely Claire will be home before long, so they get out of the tub, put on some comfortable clothes to sleep in, and head downstairs to put the telly back.
Chapter 13