OC_BigBang Fanfic- Blackwood Creek 5/12
Title- Blackwood Creek 5/12
Fandom- Supernatural, focusing on OCs
Ship- Logan(OMC)/Jake(OMC)
Rating- PG-13
Genre- slash, action, drama, romance, plotty
Warnings- violence, m/m kissing
Wordcount- 5,600
Summary- Jake and Logan hustle pool. Jake sneaks a beer, learns something about Logan, and starts to question himself.
A/N- written for 2011 oc_bigbang
Disclaimer- I did not come up with this world, but the idea of a hunters’ summer camp is mine. I did not create the Winchesters or Elkins, but all the rest of the characters mentioned in here are mine.
Beta- skylar_matthews
*** Previous Chapter *** Master Post *** Next Chapter ***
Jake looked around as Logan pulled the car to a stop in the parking lot of a bar. After stopping in the lot of a Wal-Mart in Maywood and catching a few hours of greatly needed sleep inside the car, they’d gotten lunch at a fast-food drive-thru and gotten back on the road to drive until it got dark, at which point Logan proclaimed that it was time they got some money for a hotel. They had pulled off the state road at the next small town they found, and this dingy-looking bar, Smokey’s Grill, was the first place they’d stopped. “We’re gonna hustle pool?” Jake asked excitedly.
“We’re gonna hustle pool,” Logan confirmed with a little smile.
“How we gonna play it? You and me play, one of us throws it, and then makes bets with someone else?”
“Sure,” Logan agreed. “If that’s how you want it. How much money do you have left?”
Jake pulled out his wallet, sighing when he saw how little was in it compared to that morning. “Twelve dollars.”
“I’ve got three.” Logan held them up. “We’ll play, I’ll lose and give you the money, and then I’ll find someone else to play against.”
Jake gave him a suspicious look. “Do you think you can beat whoever’s in there?”
“You think I can’t?” Logan scoffed.
“I’ve never seen you play. I don’t know how good you are. I do know how good I am.”
Logan laughed. “Okay, hot shot, you throw the game. It’ll be fun watching you lose to me. Just don’t come crying to me if you lose your next game and have to pay money you don’t got.” Logan held out his three bills, his eyes dancing, and Jake snatched them from his hand and glared at him.
“I won’t lose,” Jake insisted. Logan just shrugged and smiled, like he was mocking Jake. Jake scowled at him as he tucked the bills into his pocket. He knew that the only way to prove himself to Logan was with actions, not words.
Logan turned off the car and climbed out. Jake got out and started to follow him, but Logan’s voice stopped him. “We shouldn’t go in together; they’ll suspect something.” Logan tossed something over his shoulder as he walked away, and Jake lunged forward to catch it. “Follow me after five minutes,” Logan said, and Jake watched him disappear through the door of the bar and glanced at his watch. Then he opened his hand to see what it was that Logan had thrown.
It was the keys to the car. Jake had been so excited to hustle pool that he’d forgotten to ask for them, but Logan had given them to him anyway. Jake smiled as he tucked the keys into his pocket. Maybe by the end of this trip he’d stop being surprised by the things Logan did.
Jake’s heart was pounding when he followed after Logan exactly five minutes later. The inside of the bar was dark. Only a few hazy lights were on. There was no smoke in the air, since smoking indoors had been outlawed in most places, but the ceiling showed stains from it and a faint smell still lingered in the walls. Advertisements for different beer brands and a few racks of antlers decorated the walls. Music played from a jukebox in the corner. The bar counter was almost completely full of people, and a few other tables were occupied. Jake took a seat at a small table and waved to a waitress. She brought him a menu and he glanced over it briefly, then peeked over it to look for Logan.
Logan stood by the bar’s sole pool table, the only bright spot in the bar with the long light hanging over it. Although he had no opponent that Jake could see he was leaned over the table taking aim at a ball, as if practicing his shots. Jake noticed a few men standing nearby watching Logan, like they were waiting for the table to be empty. Jake guessed they would be the ones to make bets with.
Jake stood and went over to watch from the other side of the table as the men. He noticed that Logan only had the ten and the eight ball left, and wondered if Logan had shot all of the others into their pockets already. If he had, then Jake was impressed: Logan had only been in the bar for a little while, and to clear the table so quickly meant he must be a pretty good shot. But then, he probably shouldn’t be surprised by Logan’s skill; after all, like Rae, he’d been traveling with his father and had probably gotten used to earning money by hustling.
Jake watched as Logan easily shot the eight ball into the pocket he’d been aiming for and straightened up. “Hey,” Jake called out, and Logan glanced at him and nodded in greeting, concentrating on putting chalk on the tip of his pool stick. “You look like you need someone to play against. Can I get in on a game?”
“How good are you?” Logan asked as he started setting up the balls again.
Jake smirked. “I’m pretty good.”
“Yeah?” Logan looked up at him with a bored expression, though his eyes were critical. Jake stared back, un-intimidated. “I’m pretty good too. You want to put some money on this?”
“Why not?” Jake shrugged. “Fifteen good? Since it’s just a friendly game.”
“That’s fine.” Logan finished setting up the balls while Jake selected a cue from the rack nearby. “You break.”
Jake took careful aim and shot into the mass of balls. He put a stripe in. He knew he could probably get another on his second shot, but he was supposed to be losing this game. He missed on purpose. Logan made no comment, didn’t even look at Jake, but with a look of concentration took aim at one of his solids. He got it in easily, then somehow knocked two in on his second shot. He got another in on his third shot, then missed. Jake suspected he might have missed on purpose. Logan had a solid three-ball lead, and Jake decided that maybe he didn’t have to pretend to be so bad.
Jake got another stripe in, then a third. He took aim at another, fully intending to get it in, but missed. He swore, glaring at the ball as it bounced off the wall just next to the pocket he’d been aiming for. Logan was smirking; he knew Jake hadn’t meant to miss that shot. Logan got the next ball in, then shot a combination off one of Jake’s to get his second-to last ball. Jake frowned as he watched Logan shoot his last non-eight solid in. Logan was better than he’d given him credit for.
Logan took aim at the eight ball but missed, surely on purpose. He gave Jake a look when their eyes met over the table, and Jake knew Logan had given him this shot meaning for him to miss: he’d been playing too well so far. Jake took aim at one of his stripes, aiming for a corner pocket. It bounced off the edge of the pocket and rolled towards the nearest corner, which the eight ball was resting by. It almost put the eight ball in, which Jake hadn’t intended, and he sighed in relief when the eight ball wobbled but remained on the table. Logan rolled his eyes. He tapped the corner pocket the eight ball was next to with the tip of his pool cue, and then took aim. He shot a combination off Jake’s stripe, putting the eight ball in but leaving the stripe still resting on the edge of the pocket.
Logan turned to Jake. “Guess you’re not as good as you thought,” he said. Jake frowned down at the table, not looking at Logan.
“I think you’re just more than ‘pretty good.’” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the fifteen dollars they had collected and handed it across to Logan. “What do you say to another game? Let me win my pride back.” He grinned playfully, and Logan smirked.
“Nah. I’m gonna go have dinner, on you.” He held up the money Jake had just handed over, then turned away and went to the bar. Jake looked back at the table, frowning at it. He’d lost, and not just because he’d thrown the game. He didn’t doubt that if he had let Logan brake, there would only have been eight shots made in the entire game. Maybe fewer.
Jake sighed and looked up. His eyes fell on the other men who had watched their game, and he grinned. “What about you guys? Up for a game, same stakes?”
The men looked at each other, nodding. One of them stepped forward. “I’ll play. But let’s raise the stakes. You got fifty dollars to spare?”
Jake grimaced as though thinking about it and coming to a conclusion. “Just barely,” he lied.
“Alright then,” the other man said with a smirk. “I’ll break.”
Jake felt much better after he won his first game and the man handed over the fifty dollars he’d bet. It was satisfying, after the crushing defeat from Logan, to know that he was perfectly in control of the game, knew exactly how many shots he could give up to look like he was a poor player and still manage to win. He felt even better after he’d won twice against the first man and once each against three of his four buddies, upping the stakes as he went, to win a total of three hundred fifty dollars.
“How about we play for beer?” Jake asked as the fifth man picked up a pool stick. “Loser buys the winner a pitcher?”
“You even old enough to buy beer?” the man asked brusquely. Jake snorted.
“I just won’t lose, then.” Jake replied, a little annoyed by the question and also a little worried, because he really was too young to be drinking and the last thing he wanted was for someone to give his description to the cops.
Ten minutes later, though, Jake had a pitcher of beer in front of him. He took a gulp from it, enjoying the burn over his tongue and throat. Then he looked up at the men and grinned. “Who’s next? We can play for cash or beer.”
The next opponent, the first man again, wanted to play for cash. He put up double his loses of one hundred fifty dollars, which was only fifty less than all Jake had won. Nevertheless, Jake agreed, and won another three hundred dollars.
Jake grinned as he took another gulp of his beer pitcher, which was already almost half gone. He was feeling good about tonight. He wondered how much more he could get out of these men.
From the corner of his eye Jake noticed Logan standing at the edge of the crowd. He stopped for a moment to stare at the other boy, admiring the way the shadows played across his face and brought out the sharpness of his features, making him seem older and more mature. Then Jake realized that Logan was subtly motioning to him, like he wanted him to go over. “I’m headed to the bathroom,” Jake told the group of men. “You can decide who’s gonna play me next while I’m gone.”
Jake went into the bathroom, glancing back over his shoulder as he pushed open the door to see if Logan was following. The other teen wasn’t even looking at him. Jake stood in the empty bathroom for a moment, wondering if Logan would come in to talk to him or if he’d been supposed to go straight over to Logan. Just then the door swung open and Logan stalked up to him, getting in Jake’s face and making him feel every centimeter of the one-inch height difference. From this distance, Jake could almost count the lashes framing the other boy’s green-brown eyes. “What’re you thinking?” Logan asked angrily.
“What?” Jake spread his arms wide in a gesture of innocence. “I’m winning money. Isn’t that why we came here?”
“Did you see how angry those guys look? Especially the one you just took for three hundred dollars? They’re pissed, Jake. You’ve pushed them too far. Much more of this, and they’re probably gonna try jumping you in the parking lot to get their money back, and if you’re stupid enough to keep playing I’ll let them and I won’t help you.”
“Come on, Logan,” Jake said, a grin on his face. “I know what I’m doing.” Logan looked like he was going to say something more, but he stopped, his expression changing from annoyance to confusion, then disbelief.
“Are you drunk?” Logan asked in a dangerously soft voice. “You don’t even have a fake license! What if they card you? I will leave your ass in jail if the police get involved!”
“Relax, Logan. I bet the guy a pitcher of beer, and I won. I didn’t try to buy it myself.”
“What if you’d lost?”
“I didn’t!” Jake cried defensively. Logan rolled his eyes.
“I can’t believe your stupidity,” Logan snarled. “It’s not just the police I’m worried about. A hunter needs to be alert at all times; you’re no good to me in a fight if you’re drunk. Now, listen. Those guys are pissed, and I wouldn’t put it past them to be planning something while we’re in here. You are not going back to that pool table. You’re going to come with me to the back room and do exactly as I tell you. Understand?”
Jake nodded mutely and Logan turned and left the room without saying any more. Jake followed him out, and then towards the back of the restaurant. He hadn’t had any idea what was back there when he’d agreed to follow Logan, but now he found that the back room had been booked for some kind of party. A banner over the top of one wall read “Happy 21st Leslie.”
Jake followed Logan as the other teen went to a table in the middle of the room with food spread over it. Logan got a plate and began dishing food onto it as though he was just another party guest, and Jake followed his example. When they’d both piled as much as they wanted on their plates, they went to one of the little tables and sat down. A waitress came over and asked if she could bring them anything to drink. Logan asked for soda, and gave Jake a look that clearly said he’d be in trouble if he asked for anything alcoholic. Jake asked for soda too.
They ate in silence, not looking at each other. Logan finished first and got up, leaving Jake alone. Jake didn’t know where he’d gone, but he wasn’t worried. Logan had given him the keys, and he had all the cash. Logan wouldn’t, and couldn’t, leave without him.
When the waitress came back Jake asked for a beer, just to prove that Logan couldn’t tell him what to do. When it was brought, he poured the beer into his half-empty soda glass and set the beer can on the table behind his, so that Logan wouldn’t notice it and yell at him for it when he came back. Then Jake watched the people milling about and nibbled his food and sipped his beer and cola while he waited for Logan to get back.
A shadow fell over Jake’s table and he looked up, expecting to see Logan glaring at him because he’d somehow figured out what Jake was drinking. But it wasn’t Logan standing over his table. It was a man Jake didn’t recognize, college-aged, early twenties, with black hair and brown eyes. “Hey,” the man greeted with a grin. “I’m Craig; I’m Leslie’s boyfriend. I don’t think I’ve seen you before. How do you know her?”
Jake’s mouth fell open but no sound came out as he scrambled to come up with an explanation. This man, Craig, didn’t seem to be asking because he was suspicious, just friendly, but Jake had no idea what to say. He knew the man wouldn’t remain unsuspicious for long if Jake said the wrong thing.
“I’m,” Jake began, not really knowing what he was going to say, but a familiar voice interrupted him.
“We’re friends of her little brother, Michael,” Logan said smoothly. “I’m Luke; this is Tyler.” He nodded to Jake.
“Ah, cool,” Craig said. “But I don’t think I saw you at Michael’s birthday party a few months ago.”
“We’re on the baseball team,” Logan said. “We had an away game that day and couldn’t go. We gave him the winning baseball as a birthday present when we got back.” Logan grinned casually when Craig laughed. Jake wondered where he was getting all this.
“Yeah, that’s right, I heard. State championship baseball, he was pretty happy about that. Oh, I gotta go; birthday girl’s waving to me.” They turned to see a young woman with bleached blonde hair waving to Craig. He waved back. “Well, I guess I’ll see you around. Go Northside Tigers!” Jake assumed that must be the school and baseball team.
“Go Tigers,” Logan agreed, grinning at Craig as he turned and left. When he was gone Logan dropped into the seat across from Jake and rubbed a hand over his face, as though smiling so much was a strain for him. Jake was surprised by the way the shadows and the tiredness in Logan’s expression made him seem world-weary and worn, as though he’d lived much longer than his eighteen years.
“How did you do that?” Jake asked in amazement.
“I talked to people.” Logan shrugged. “I had nothing better to do while you were playing, so I came over here and scoped out the party. I found out everything I could about the birthday girl and her family, so that I’d be able to bullshit my way through any questions people tried to ask me.”
“So,” Logan sighed. “I saw you take another three hundred from that first guy. How much did you get altogether?”
“Six hundred fifty dollars.” Jake grinned and started to pull the wad of cash from his pocket to show it off, but Logan stopped him.
“Not now; don’t show off that kind of money in front of other people. C’mon, let’s get back to the car and find us a hotel.” Jake nodded and started to stand, but as he did his hand knocked over his drink, and it spilled over the table.
“I’m sorry,” Jake said to the waitress who rushed to clean it up. He hurriedly backed up to get out of her way. Jake could see Logan rolling his eyes at him for drawing attention to them as they tried to leave.
They managed to slip out the back of the bar, something Logan insisted on to avoid the men from the pool table, without any trouble, and then they walked around the front to the car. “Keys,” Logan demanded when they got to the car. Jake looked at him curiously for a moment, then remembered that yes, he did have the keys. Now where did he have the keys again?
Jake rummaged through his pockets and frowned. He pulled out the money and set it on the hood of the car, then dug in his pocket again. Still he found nothing. “You left the keys inside somewhere,” Logan groaned. “Fuck it. Stay here and don’t move; I’ll go back and look.”
“Wait!” Jake cried. He patted his back pocket and then grinned and pulled out the keys triumphantly. He’d moved them from his front pocket to his back when the wad of cash got too big. “I got them.”
“You idiot,” Logan muttered. “Get in the car. Grab the money before you get in the car, moron. Okay, now get in the car. And buckle your seat belt.”
Finally everything seemed to meet Logan’s approval, and he started up the car. Jake grinned as they pulled out of the bar parking lot and began driving through the little town they’d stopped at. His head was still buzzing pleasantly from the alcohol he’d had, and he was feeling very proud of himself for winning so much money.
Logan pulled up in front of a shabby-looking hotel. “Stay here,” he ordered, then went inside to book a room. Moments later Logan returned. He dropped two room keys on the console, glaring at Jake when he snatched them both up, and drove around to the side of the motel. He held out the car keys somewhat reluctantly. “Don’t lose them.”
“I won’t!” Jake cried indignantly.
“Better not,” Logan muttered as he handed them over. Jake glared at him, but Logan ignored him and climbed out of the car. “Grab anything you need for the night,” he told Jake as he went to the trunk. They both picked out a change of clothes and whatever toiletries they needed.
“Hold on a second,” Logan said. He pulled both duffle bags and the jug of gasoline that lay behind them from the car and dropped them on the ground, ignoring Jake’s whine of protest about his bag getting dirty, then opened the compartment meant to hold the spare tire. “Help me,” he ordered, and the two of them pulled the tire out as well. Then Logan reached into his duffle bag. Jake watched in awe as the other teen emptied two shotguns, a handgun, a rifle, a crossbow, the boxes of ammunition they’d bought, three different knives, a machete, an EMF reader, a bag of salt, and a wallet full of fake ID’s from his bag into the tire compartment. He noticed that the revolver remained in Logan’s pocket, where it had been the entire day.
“So no one sees it if they break in or if we get pulled over,” Logan explained. “You got anything?”
Jake felt shamefully ill-prepared as he placed his own shotgun, knife, and box of salt cartridges next to Logan’s arsenal. Then Logan closed the compartment and they both shoved the tire into the trunk and threw their bags and the jug of gas in front of it. “Alright, good,” Logan sighed once everything had been stored to his satisfaction.
Jake followed Logan to their room and tried to unlock the door. He struggled to fit the card into the slot, frowning when it kept sliding to the side. Finally he managed to get it in and he grinned at Logan, who only scowled in return.
“You’re drunk,” Logan growled as the door closed behind them. “You had more to drink after I got you away from the pool table. Even though I told you that a hunter always needs to be alert!” He stepped forward as he spoke, so that there was only an inch or two between their noses and Jake could clearly see the way the color of his eyes went from green on the outside to brown next to the pupil. Logan was trying to intimidate Jake again, but the effort was lost on him.
“Your eyes are pretty,” Jake told the other teen. Logan snorted and shoved past him into the room. Jake turned towards Logan again and watched him go over to one of the beds and pull back the covers to inspect it. He admired the way Logan moved, the shift of his muscles beneath his shirt, and the way the light made his hair look even more blonde when Logan switched on the bedside lamp. “You’re pretty.”
Logan turned to Jake, one eyebrow raised. “You’re not gay,” Logan said. It was a statement, not a question, and it confused Jake.
“No,” Jake said. He wasn’t gay- or at least, he didn’t think he was. He’d never found another man attractive before. All the same, there was something undeniably beautiful about Logan; anyone could see it. “But you’re still pretty.”
Logan dropped his things onto his chosen bed and turned back to Jake with a sigh. Speaking slowly, as one would to a small child, he said, “You are not sexually attracted to men. You’re just drunk. Sleep it off, and maybe tomorrow night you can find a nice pretty girl to flirt with.”
“You’re attractive,” Jake insisted.
Logan frowned and crossed his arms. “Are you saying that you find me attractive? Or just stating a fact?”
Jake cocked his head to the side, considering. Did he find Logan attractive? That morning, or any other time since he’d met Logan, he would have said no, but right now… “I don’t know,” Jake said honestly.
Logan threw up his hands. “I’m not having this discussion with you. You’re drunk. And even if you were sober, I’m not going to help some bi-curious kid figure out if he’s gay or not. I have better things to do with my time. I don’t mess around with people who don’t know what they want.” Logan turned away and started looking through the list of TV channels.
“Are you gay?” Jake asked as he sat down on the other bed. Logan turned to him slowly, and his lip curled into a sneer.
“Bi, and damn proud of it. I know what I am; I know what I want. I’m not going to let an insecure, confused kid use me as part of his experimentation. Especially not a kid who’s probably going to decide he’s straight and want to forget he ever did anything with a man. I have more self-respect than that.”
Logan turned away, then picked up the remote and switched on the TV. When he spoke again, he was pointedly not facing Jake. “You’re only talking like this because you’re drunk. In the morning you’ll remember what you find attractive: breasts and curves and softness. Not flat chests and hard muscle.” He fell silent then, and Jake let the conversation drop.
Jake watched Logan thoughtfully as the other boy concentrated on the television. Even through the fog of booze, he was still a little hurt by Logan’s curt rejection. At the same time, though, he had to admit that Logan was right: Jake had no idea what he wanted, and Logan was under no obligation to help him figure it out. Jake watched the light of the TV play over Logan’s face, watched his features slowly relax as the anger from their conversation faded. He decided that whatever he himself felt, Logan was definitely objectively beautiful.
“I’m going to take a shower,” Jake muttered, and pulled a pair of boxers from his clean clothes to put on afterwards. Logan made no indication that he’d heard, although Jake knew he must have. Jake sighed and turned away from the other teen towards the bathroom.
When Jake exited the bathroom, Logan got up and went in behind him without a word. Jake sighed and dropped onto his bed. He picked up the remote from where Logan had placed it on the night stand and began flipping through the channels. His mind was a little clearer now, after a warm shower and some time to let the haze wear off, and just like Logan had told him he would, he was starting to regret everything he’d said.
So Logan was objectively attractive. Jake had known plenty of boys who were objectively attractive. He’d always compared himself to them, wishing he could have their looks. He’d never commented on it to them, and he’d certainly never been confused as to whether or not he found them attractive himself. He didn’t know why he’d said the things he did. And he definitely didn’t know why it still hurt a little that Logan had turned him down so completely. Even if the other teen had been right in saying that Jake would later regret the things he said.
The bathroom door opened and Jake looked up as Logan stepped out. The other boy had a towel wrapped around his waist, and Jake could clearly see the scars spattered over his chest. Again he was struck by a feeling of grudging respect and jealousy. He wished he had something to show for battles with deadly creatures. Unfortunately, he hadn’t battled anything yet.
“Where did you get those scars?” The words were out of Jake’s mouth before he could stop them, and he immediately regretted it. Given Logan’s temperament after their earlier discussion, he would probably just get mad at Jake for asking questions.
Logan glanced up at him, at first looking defensive, then simply tired. “There are too many to tell in one night.”
He didn’t seem angry. Jake stood and went over to him, and Logan looked back suspiciously. “How about…” Jake picked a scar at random. “This one?” He pointed to a scar on Logan’s left shoulder, a red, raised strip of flesh that couldn’t be very old yet. Logan looked at the scar and bit his lip. Jake took that as a good sign, because it meant Logan was considering telling him rather than dismissing the request outright.
“Ghost hunt,” Logan said after a moment. He wasn’t looking at Jake, but at the scar. As he spoke, he lifted his hand and ran his fingertips over the rough skin. “A couple months ago. I figured, it’s just a ghost, just a simple salt-and-burn. I’ve done plenty of them, so this won’t be very difficult.” Logan fell silent for a moment before continuing. “I let my guard down. I lost my gun, and the ghost attacked me with a saw blade. I was lucky; I managed to dodge enough to avoid getting my collarbone broken.” Logan’s finger stilled on his scar, and his hand fell. “After it cut me I was able to grab my gun again, and I shot it. My dad set fire to the body before it could come back again. I had to go to the hospital, and I got thirty stitches.”
“Wow,” Jake whispered in amazement. He reached out to touch the scar, but stopped. Logan would probably get angry if Jake touched him. He let his hand drop to his side. “That’s so awesome.”
Logan snorted and turned away. “Why do you care about my scars anyway?” he muttered.
“They’re cool,” Jake said. Logan glanced back at him almost curiously, and Jake took it as a good sign and continued. “They’re like badges of honor: they show that you were injured in combat, hurt trying to save other people. They show how strong you are, fighting against something that could kill you and coming out alive.”
“They’re ugly,” Logan murmured, turning away from Jake. Jake could see three more scars over Logan’s back. “Ugly, awful flaws in the skin.” Logan glanced back at Jake and his lips quirked in a wry smile. “Contrary to popular belief, girls don’t actually think scars are sexy. Especially when you have a whole bunch of them and no plausible explanation. They just think it’s ugly.”
“I don’t think they’re ugly,” Jake said. “I think they’re beautiful.”
Logan shook his head as though he thought Jake was a lost cause. “You have a skewed perspective.”
“Maybe,” Jake admitted. “But it’s the same as yours: a hunter’s perspective.” Jake moved closer to Logan, and the other boy looked away again. “There’s no mark on your body that you need to be ashamed of,” Jake said gravely. “You should be proud of every battle wound: they show that you’ve suffered for the sake of other people, that you’ve faced things that have killed others, and survived. If other people can’t appreciate that, they can’t appreciate any part of the person you are. They aren’t worth your time.”
Logan glanced at Jake, then looked away again. “Maybe,” he said slowly, but Jake could see that he was smiling just a little.
“Definitely,” Jake insisted, and although Logan ducked his head, Jake could see his smile widen. Jake turned away from Logan and went back to his own bed. He pulled back the covers and crawled under, then concentrated on the television. He heard the rustle of fabric as Logan’s towel dropped and the other teen pulled on a fresh pair of boxers, then slid under the covers of the bed. When the noise stopped, Jake turned back to Logan and saw him facing the TV.
“You watching this?” Jake asked.
“Not really.”
“Okay if I turn it off?”
“Sure.”
“You ready to turn the lights out and go to bed?”
“Go ahead.”
Jake flicked off the TV, then the bedside lamp. Instantly the room was bathed in darkness. Jake lay down and tried to concentrate on sleep. The sounds of Logan shifting in bed to get comfortable seemed much louder, in this little room so close together, than they had in the huge barn full of other kids. Finally everything was quiet. Too quiet.
“Hey, Logan?” Jake called softly.
“Yeah?”
“You have to tell me about another one tomorrow.”
He heard Logan laugh softly. “You got any scars?”
“A few. No hunting scars, though.”
“Way I see it, you owe me a story tomorrow night, not the other way around.”
“Fine. Tell me the night after, then.” Logan laughed but didn’t reply, and Jake smiled. “G’night,” he murmured.
There was silence for a moment, and Jake wondered if saying goodnight wasn’t too childish a thing for Logan to do. Then he heard the other boy answer him softly. “Night.”
Jake grinned as he burrowed down into his covers. The night had started out awkwardly, and he still regretted and didn’t understand some of the things he’d said. But it seemed that Logan was starting to like him, maybe, a little. Somehow that made Jake ridiculously happy.
*** Previous Chapter *** Master Post *** Next Chapter ***
Fandom- Supernatural, focusing on OCs
Ship- Logan(OMC)/Jake(OMC)
Rating- PG-13
Genre- slash, action, drama, romance, plotty
Warnings- violence, m/m kissing
Wordcount- 5,600
Summary- Jake and Logan hustle pool. Jake sneaks a beer, learns something about Logan, and starts to question himself.
A/N- written for 2011 oc_bigbang
Disclaimer- I did not come up with this world, but the idea of a hunters’ summer camp is mine. I did not create the Winchesters or Elkins, but all the rest of the characters mentioned in here are mine.
Beta- skylar_matthews
*** Previous Chapter *** Master Post *** Next Chapter ***
Jake looked around as Logan pulled the car to a stop in the parking lot of a bar. After stopping in the lot of a Wal-Mart in Maywood and catching a few hours of greatly needed sleep inside the car, they’d gotten lunch at a fast-food drive-thru and gotten back on the road to drive until it got dark, at which point Logan proclaimed that it was time they got some money for a hotel. They had pulled off the state road at the next small town they found, and this dingy-looking bar, Smokey’s Grill, was the first place they’d stopped. “We’re gonna hustle pool?” Jake asked excitedly.
“We’re gonna hustle pool,” Logan confirmed with a little smile.
“How we gonna play it? You and me play, one of us throws it, and then makes bets with someone else?”
“Sure,” Logan agreed. “If that’s how you want it. How much money do you have left?”
Jake pulled out his wallet, sighing when he saw how little was in it compared to that morning. “Twelve dollars.”
“I’ve got three.” Logan held them up. “We’ll play, I’ll lose and give you the money, and then I’ll find someone else to play against.”
Jake gave him a suspicious look. “Do you think you can beat whoever’s in there?”
“You think I can’t?” Logan scoffed.
“I’ve never seen you play. I don’t know how good you are. I do know how good I am.”
Logan laughed. “Okay, hot shot, you throw the game. It’ll be fun watching you lose to me. Just don’t come crying to me if you lose your next game and have to pay money you don’t got.” Logan held out his three bills, his eyes dancing, and Jake snatched them from his hand and glared at him.
“I won’t lose,” Jake insisted. Logan just shrugged and smiled, like he was mocking Jake. Jake scowled at him as he tucked the bills into his pocket. He knew that the only way to prove himself to Logan was with actions, not words.
Logan turned off the car and climbed out. Jake got out and started to follow him, but Logan’s voice stopped him. “We shouldn’t go in together; they’ll suspect something.” Logan tossed something over his shoulder as he walked away, and Jake lunged forward to catch it. “Follow me after five minutes,” Logan said, and Jake watched him disappear through the door of the bar and glanced at his watch. Then he opened his hand to see what it was that Logan had thrown.
It was the keys to the car. Jake had been so excited to hustle pool that he’d forgotten to ask for them, but Logan had given them to him anyway. Jake smiled as he tucked the keys into his pocket. Maybe by the end of this trip he’d stop being surprised by the things Logan did.
Jake’s heart was pounding when he followed after Logan exactly five minutes later. The inside of the bar was dark. Only a few hazy lights were on. There was no smoke in the air, since smoking indoors had been outlawed in most places, but the ceiling showed stains from it and a faint smell still lingered in the walls. Advertisements for different beer brands and a few racks of antlers decorated the walls. Music played from a jukebox in the corner. The bar counter was almost completely full of people, and a few other tables were occupied. Jake took a seat at a small table and waved to a waitress. She brought him a menu and he glanced over it briefly, then peeked over it to look for Logan.
Logan stood by the bar’s sole pool table, the only bright spot in the bar with the long light hanging over it. Although he had no opponent that Jake could see he was leaned over the table taking aim at a ball, as if practicing his shots. Jake noticed a few men standing nearby watching Logan, like they were waiting for the table to be empty. Jake guessed they would be the ones to make bets with.
Jake stood and went over to watch from the other side of the table as the men. He noticed that Logan only had the ten and the eight ball left, and wondered if Logan had shot all of the others into their pockets already. If he had, then Jake was impressed: Logan had only been in the bar for a little while, and to clear the table so quickly meant he must be a pretty good shot. But then, he probably shouldn’t be surprised by Logan’s skill; after all, like Rae, he’d been traveling with his father and had probably gotten used to earning money by hustling.
Jake watched as Logan easily shot the eight ball into the pocket he’d been aiming for and straightened up. “Hey,” Jake called out, and Logan glanced at him and nodded in greeting, concentrating on putting chalk on the tip of his pool stick. “You look like you need someone to play against. Can I get in on a game?”
“How good are you?” Logan asked as he started setting up the balls again.
Jake smirked. “I’m pretty good.”
“Yeah?” Logan looked up at him with a bored expression, though his eyes were critical. Jake stared back, un-intimidated. “I’m pretty good too. You want to put some money on this?”
“Why not?” Jake shrugged. “Fifteen good? Since it’s just a friendly game.”
“That’s fine.” Logan finished setting up the balls while Jake selected a cue from the rack nearby. “You break.”
Jake took careful aim and shot into the mass of balls. He put a stripe in. He knew he could probably get another on his second shot, but he was supposed to be losing this game. He missed on purpose. Logan made no comment, didn’t even look at Jake, but with a look of concentration took aim at one of his solids. He got it in easily, then somehow knocked two in on his second shot. He got another in on his third shot, then missed. Jake suspected he might have missed on purpose. Logan had a solid three-ball lead, and Jake decided that maybe he didn’t have to pretend to be so bad.
Jake got another stripe in, then a third. He took aim at another, fully intending to get it in, but missed. He swore, glaring at the ball as it bounced off the wall just next to the pocket he’d been aiming for. Logan was smirking; he knew Jake hadn’t meant to miss that shot. Logan got the next ball in, then shot a combination off one of Jake’s to get his second-to last ball. Jake frowned as he watched Logan shoot his last non-eight solid in. Logan was better than he’d given him credit for.
Logan took aim at the eight ball but missed, surely on purpose. He gave Jake a look when their eyes met over the table, and Jake knew Logan had given him this shot meaning for him to miss: he’d been playing too well so far. Jake took aim at one of his stripes, aiming for a corner pocket. It bounced off the edge of the pocket and rolled towards the nearest corner, which the eight ball was resting by. It almost put the eight ball in, which Jake hadn’t intended, and he sighed in relief when the eight ball wobbled but remained on the table. Logan rolled his eyes. He tapped the corner pocket the eight ball was next to with the tip of his pool cue, and then took aim. He shot a combination off Jake’s stripe, putting the eight ball in but leaving the stripe still resting on the edge of the pocket.
Logan turned to Jake. “Guess you’re not as good as you thought,” he said. Jake frowned down at the table, not looking at Logan.
“I think you’re just more than ‘pretty good.’” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the fifteen dollars they had collected and handed it across to Logan. “What do you say to another game? Let me win my pride back.” He grinned playfully, and Logan smirked.
“Nah. I’m gonna go have dinner, on you.” He held up the money Jake had just handed over, then turned away and went to the bar. Jake looked back at the table, frowning at it. He’d lost, and not just because he’d thrown the game. He didn’t doubt that if he had let Logan brake, there would only have been eight shots made in the entire game. Maybe fewer.
Jake sighed and looked up. His eyes fell on the other men who had watched their game, and he grinned. “What about you guys? Up for a game, same stakes?”
The men looked at each other, nodding. One of them stepped forward. “I’ll play. But let’s raise the stakes. You got fifty dollars to spare?”
Jake grimaced as though thinking about it and coming to a conclusion. “Just barely,” he lied.
“Alright then,” the other man said with a smirk. “I’ll break.”
Jake felt much better after he won his first game and the man handed over the fifty dollars he’d bet. It was satisfying, after the crushing defeat from Logan, to know that he was perfectly in control of the game, knew exactly how many shots he could give up to look like he was a poor player and still manage to win. He felt even better after he’d won twice against the first man and once each against three of his four buddies, upping the stakes as he went, to win a total of three hundred fifty dollars.
“How about we play for beer?” Jake asked as the fifth man picked up a pool stick. “Loser buys the winner a pitcher?”
“You even old enough to buy beer?” the man asked brusquely. Jake snorted.
“I just won’t lose, then.” Jake replied, a little annoyed by the question and also a little worried, because he really was too young to be drinking and the last thing he wanted was for someone to give his description to the cops.
Ten minutes later, though, Jake had a pitcher of beer in front of him. He took a gulp from it, enjoying the burn over his tongue and throat. Then he looked up at the men and grinned. “Who’s next? We can play for cash or beer.”
The next opponent, the first man again, wanted to play for cash. He put up double his loses of one hundred fifty dollars, which was only fifty less than all Jake had won. Nevertheless, Jake agreed, and won another three hundred dollars.
Jake grinned as he took another gulp of his beer pitcher, which was already almost half gone. He was feeling good about tonight. He wondered how much more he could get out of these men.
From the corner of his eye Jake noticed Logan standing at the edge of the crowd. He stopped for a moment to stare at the other boy, admiring the way the shadows played across his face and brought out the sharpness of his features, making him seem older and more mature. Then Jake realized that Logan was subtly motioning to him, like he wanted him to go over. “I’m headed to the bathroom,” Jake told the group of men. “You can decide who’s gonna play me next while I’m gone.”
Jake went into the bathroom, glancing back over his shoulder as he pushed open the door to see if Logan was following. The other teen wasn’t even looking at him. Jake stood in the empty bathroom for a moment, wondering if Logan would come in to talk to him or if he’d been supposed to go straight over to Logan. Just then the door swung open and Logan stalked up to him, getting in Jake’s face and making him feel every centimeter of the one-inch height difference. From this distance, Jake could almost count the lashes framing the other boy’s green-brown eyes. “What’re you thinking?” Logan asked angrily.
“What?” Jake spread his arms wide in a gesture of innocence. “I’m winning money. Isn’t that why we came here?”
“Did you see how angry those guys look? Especially the one you just took for three hundred dollars? They’re pissed, Jake. You’ve pushed them too far. Much more of this, and they’re probably gonna try jumping you in the parking lot to get their money back, and if you’re stupid enough to keep playing I’ll let them and I won’t help you.”
“Come on, Logan,” Jake said, a grin on his face. “I know what I’m doing.” Logan looked like he was going to say something more, but he stopped, his expression changing from annoyance to confusion, then disbelief.
“Are you drunk?” Logan asked in a dangerously soft voice. “You don’t even have a fake license! What if they card you? I will leave your ass in jail if the police get involved!”
“Relax, Logan. I bet the guy a pitcher of beer, and I won. I didn’t try to buy it myself.”
“What if you’d lost?”
“I didn’t!” Jake cried defensively. Logan rolled his eyes.
“I can’t believe your stupidity,” Logan snarled. “It’s not just the police I’m worried about. A hunter needs to be alert at all times; you’re no good to me in a fight if you’re drunk. Now, listen. Those guys are pissed, and I wouldn’t put it past them to be planning something while we’re in here. You are not going back to that pool table. You’re going to come with me to the back room and do exactly as I tell you. Understand?”
Jake nodded mutely and Logan turned and left the room without saying any more. Jake followed him out, and then towards the back of the restaurant. He hadn’t had any idea what was back there when he’d agreed to follow Logan, but now he found that the back room had been booked for some kind of party. A banner over the top of one wall read “Happy 21st Leslie.”
Jake followed Logan as the other teen went to a table in the middle of the room with food spread over it. Logan got a plate and began dishing food onto it as though he was just another party guest, and Jake followed his example. When they’d both piled as much as they wanted on their plates, they went to one of the little tables and sat down. A waitress came over and asked if she could bring them anything to drink. Logan asked for soda, and gave Jake a look that clearly said he’d be in trouble if he asked for anything alcoholic. Jake asked for soda too.
They ate in silence, not looking at each other. Logan finished first and got up, leaving Jake alone. Jake didn’t know where he’d gone, but he wasn’t worried. Logan had given him the keys, and he had all the cash. Logan wouldn’t, and couldn’t, leave without him.
When the waitress came back Jake asked for a beer, just to prove that Logan couldn’t tell him what to do. When it was brought, he poured the beer into his half-empty soda glass and set the beer can on the table behind his, so that Logan wouldn’t notice it and yell at him for it when he came back. Then Jake watched the people milling about and nibbled his food and sipped his beer and cola while he waited for Logan to get back.
A shadow fell over Jake’s table and he looked up, expecting to see Logan glaring at him because he’d somehow figured out what Jake was drinking. But it wasn’t Logan standing over his table. It was a man Jake didn’t recognize, college-aged, early twenties, with black hair and brown eyes. “Hey,” the man greeted with a grin. “I’m Craig; I’m Leslie’s boyfriend. I don’t think I’ve seen you before. How do you know her?”
Jake’s mouth fell open but no sound came out as he scrambled to come up with an explanation. This man, Craig, didn’t seem to be asking because he was suspicious, just friendly, but Jake had no idea what to say. He knew the man wouldn’t remain unsuspicious for long if Jake said the wrong thing.
“I’m,” Jake began, not really knowing what he was going to say, but a familiar voice interrupted him.
“We’re friends of her little brother, Michael,” Logan said smoothly. “I’m Luke; this is Tyler.” He nodded to Jake.
“Ah, cool,” Craig said. “But I don’t think I saw you at Michael’s birthday party a few months ago.”
“We’re on the baseball team,” Logan said. “We had an away game that day and couldn’t go. We gave him the winning baseball as a birthday present when we got back.” Logan grinned casually when Craig laughed. Jake wondered where he was getting all this.
“Yeah, that’s right, I heard. State championship baseball, he was pretty happy about that. Oh, I gotta go; birthday girl’s waving to me.” They turned to see a young woman with bleached blonde hair waving to Craig. He waved back. “Well, I guess I’ll see you around. Go Northside Tigers!” Jake assumed that must be the school and baseball team.
“Go Tigers,” Logan agreed, grinning at Craig as he turned and left. When he was gone Logan dropped into the seat across from Jake and rubbed a hand over his face, as though smiling so much was a strain for him. Jake was surprised by the way the shadows and the tiredness in Logan’s expression made him seem world-weary and worn, as though he’d lived much longer than his eighteen years.
“How did you do that?” Jake asked in amazement.
“I talked to people.” Logan shrugged. “I had nothing better to do while you were playing, so I came over here and scoped out the party. I found out everything I could about the birthday girl and her family, so that I’d be able to bullshit my way through any questions people tried to ask me.”
“So,” Logan sighed. “I saw you take another three hundred from that first guy. How much did you get altogether?”
“Six hundred fifty dollars.” Jake grinned and started to pull the wad of cash from his pocket to show it off, but Logan stopped him.
“Not now; don’t show off that kind of money in front of other people. C’mon, let’s get back to the car and find us a hotel.” Jake nodded and started to stand, but as he did his hand knocked over his drink, and it spilled over the table.
“I’m sorry,” Jake said to the waitress who rushed to clean it up. He hurriedly backed up to get out of her way. Jake could see Logan rolling his eyes at him for drawing attention to them as they tried to leave.
They managed to slip out the back of the bar, something Logan insisted on to avoid the men from the pool table, without any trouble, and then they walked around the front to the car. “Keys,” Logan demanded when they got to the car. Jake looked at him curiously for a moment, then remembered that yes, he did have the keys. Now where did he have the keys again?
Jake rummaged through his pockets and frowned. He pulled out the money and set it on the hood of the car, then dug in his pocket again. Still he found nothing. “You left the keys inside somewhere,” Logan groaned. “Fuck it. Stay here and don’t move; I’ll go back and look.”
“Wait!” Jake cried. He patted his back pocket and then grinned and pulled out the keys triumphantly. He’d moved them from his front pocket to his back when the wad of cash got too big. “I got them.”
“You idiot,” Logan muttered. “Get in the car. Grab the money before you get in the car, moron. Okay, now get in the car. And buckle your seat belt.”
Finally everything seemed to meet Logan’s approval, and he started up the car. Jake grinned as they pulled out of the bar parking lot and began driving through the little town they’d stopped at. His head was still buzzing pleasantly from the alcohol he’d had, and he was feeling very proud of himself for winning so much money.
Logan pulled up in front of a shabby-looking hotel. “Stay here,” he ordered, then went inside to book a room. Moments later Logan returned. He dropped two room keys on the console, glaring at Jake when he snatched them both up, and drove around to the side of the motel. He held out the car keys somewhat reluctantly. “Don’t lose them.”
“I won’t!” Jake cried indignantly.
“Better not,” Logan muttered as he handed them over. Jake glared at him, but Logan ignored him and climbed out of the car. “Grab anything you need for the night,” he told Jake as he went to the trunk. They both picked out a change of clothes and whatever toiletries they needed.
“Hold on a second,” Logan said. He pulled both duffle bags and the jug of gasoline that lay behind them from the car and dropped them on the ground, ignoring Jake’s whine of protest about his bag getting dirty, then opened the compartment meant to hold the spare tire. “Help me,” he ordered, and the two of them pulled the tire out as well. Then Logan reached into his duffle bag. Jake watched in awe as the other teen emptied two shotguns, a handgun, a rifle, a crossbow, the boxes of ammunition they’d bought, three different knives, a machete, an EMF reader, a bag of salt, and a wallet full of fake ID’s from his bag into the tire compartment. He noticed that the revolver remained in Logan’s pocket, where it had been the entire day.
“So no one sees it if they break in or if we get pulled over,” Logan explained. “You got anything?”
Jake felt shamefully ill-prepared as he placed his own shotgun, knife, and box of salt cartridges next to Logan’s arsenal. Then Logan closed the compartment and they both shoved the tire into the trunk and threw their bags and the jug of gas in front of it. “Alright, good,” Logan sighed once everything had been stored to his satisfaction.
Jake followed Logan to their room and tried to unlock the door. He struggled to fit the card into the slot, frowning when it kept sliding to the side. Finally he managed to get it in and he grinned at Logan, who only scowled in return.
“You’re drunk,” Logan growled as the door closed behind them. “You had more to drink after I got you away from the pool table. Even though I told you that a hunter always needs to be alert!” He stepped forward as he spoke, so that there was only an inch or two between their noses and Jake could clearly see the way the color of his eyes went from green on the outside to brown next to the pupil. Logan was trying to intimidate Jake again, but the effort was lost on him.
“Your eyes are pretty,” Jake told the other teen. Logan snorted and shoved past him into the room. Jake turned towards Logan again and watched him go over to one of the beds and pull back the covers to inspect it. He admired the way Logan moved, the shift of his muscles beneath his shirt, and the way the light made his hair look even more blonde when Logan switched on the bedside lamp. “You’re pretty.”
Logan turned to Jake, one eyebrow raised. “You’re not gay,” Logan said. It was a statement, not a question, and it confused Jake.
“No,” Jake said. He wasn’t gay- or at least, he didn’t think he was. He’d never found another man attractive before. All the same, there was something undeniably beautiful about Logan; anyone could see it. “But you’re still pretty.”
Logan dropped his things onto his chosen bed and turned back to Jake with a sigh. Speaking slowly, as one would to a small child, he said, “You are not sexually attracted to men. You’re just drunk. Sleep it off, and maybe tomorrow night you can find a nice pretty girl to flirt with.”
“You’re attractive,” Jake insisted.
Logan frowned and crossed his arms. “Are you saying that you find me attractive? Or just stating a fact?”
Jake cocked his head to the side, considering. Did he find Logan attractive? That morning, or any other time since he’d met Logan, he would have said no, but right now… “I don’t know,” Jake said honestly.
Logan threw up his hands. “I’m not having this discussion with you. You’re drunk. And even if you were sober, I’m not going to help some bi-curious kid figure out if he’s gay or not. I have better things to do with my time. I don’t mess around with people who don’t know what they want.” Logan turned away and started looking through the list of TV channels.
“Are you gay?” Jake asked as he sat down on the other bed. Logan turned to him slowly, and his lip curled into a sneer.
“Bi, and damn proud of it. I know what I am; I know what I want. I’m not going to let an insecure, confused kid use me as part of his experimentation. Especially not a kid who’s probably going to decide he’s straight and want to forget he ever did anything with a man. I have more self-respect than that.”
Logan turned away, then picked up the remote and switched on the TV. When he spoke again, he was pointedly not facing Jake. “You’re only talking like this because you’re drunk. In the morning you’ll remember what you find attractive: breasts and curves and softness. Not flat chests and hard muscle.” He fell silent then, and Jake let the conversation drop.
Jake watched Logan thoughtfully as the other boy concentrated on the television. Even through the fog of booze, he was still a little hurt by Logan’s curt rejection. At the same time, though, he had to admit that Logan was right: Jake had no idea what he wanted, and Logan was under no obligation to help him figure it out. Jake watched the light of the TV play over Logan’s face, watched his features slowly relax as the anger from their conversation faded. He decided that whatever he himself felt, Logan was definitely objectively beautiful.
“I’m going to take a shower,” Jake muttered, and pulled a pair of boxers from his clean clothes to put on afterwards. Logan made no indication that he’d heard, although Jake knew he must have. Jake sighed and turned away from the other teen towards the bathroom.
When Jake exited the bathroom, Logan got up and went in behind him without a word. Jake sighed and dropped onto his bed. He picked up the remote from where Logan had placed it on the night stand and began flipping through the channels. His mind was a little clearer now, after a warm shower and some time to let the haze wear off, and just like Logan had told him he would, he was starting to regret everything he’d said.
So Logan was objectively attractive. Jake had known plenty of boys who were objectively attractive. He’d always compared himself to them, wishing he could have their looks. He’d never commented on it to them, and he’d certainly never been confused as to whether or not he found them attractive himself. He didn’t know why he’d said the things he did. And he definitely didn’t know why it still hurt a little that Logan had turned him down so completely. Even if the other teen had been right in saying that Jake would later regret the things he said.
The bathroom door opened and Jake looked up as Logan stepped out. The other boy had a towel wrapped around his waist, and Jake could clearly see the scars spattered over his chest. Again he was struck by a feeling of grudging respect and jealousy. He wished he had something to show for battles with deadly creatures. Unfortunately, he hadn’t battled anything yet.
“Where did you get those scars?” The words were out of Jake’s mouth before he could stop them, and he immediately regretted it. Given Logan’s temperament after their earlier discussion, he would probably just get mad at Jake for asking questions.
Logan glanced up at him, at first looking defensive, then simply tired. “There are too many to tell in one night.”
He didn’t seem angry. Jake stood and went over to him, and Logan looked back suspiciously. “How about…” Jake picked a scar at random. “This one?” He pointed to a scar on Logan’s left shoulder, a red, raised strip of flesh that couldn’t be very old yet. Logan looked at the scar and bit his lip. Jake took that as a good sign, because it meant Logan was considering telling him rather than dismissing the request outright.
“Ghost hunt,” Logan said after a moment. He wasn’t looking at Jake, but at the scar. As he spoke, he lifted his hand and ran his fingertips over the rough skin. “A couple months ago. I figured, it’s just a ghost, just a simple salt-and-burn. I’ve done plenty of them, so this won’t be very difficult.” Logan fell silent for a moment before continuing. “I let my guard down. I lost my gun, and the ghost attacked me with a saw blade. I was lucky; I managed to dodge enough to avoid getting my collarbone broken.” Logan’s finger stilled on his scar, and his hand fell. “After it cut me I was able to grab my gun again, and I shot it. My dad set fire to the body before it could come back again. I had to go to the hospital, and I got thirty stitches.”
“Wow,” Jake whispered in amazement. He reached out to touch the scar, but stopped. Logan would probably get angry if Jake touched him. He let his hand drop to his side. “That’s so awesome.”
Logan snorted and turned away. “Why do you care about my scars anyway?” he muttered.
“They’re cool,” Jake said. Logan glanced back at him almost curiously, and Jake took it as a good sign and continued. “They’re like badges of honor: they show that you were injured in combat, hurt trying to save other people. They show how strong you are, fighting against something that could kill you and coming out alive.”
“They’re ugly,” Logan murmured, turning away from Jake. Jake could see three more scars over Logan’s back. “Ugly, awful flaws in the skin.” Logan glanced back at Jake and his lips quirked in a wry smile. “Contrary to popular belief, girls don’t actually think scars are sexy. Especially when you have a whole bunch of them and no plausible explanation. They just think it’s ugly.”
“I don’t think they’re ugly,” Jake said. “I think they’re beautiful.”
Logan shook his head as though he thought Jake was a lost cause. “You have a skewed perspective.”
“Maybe,” Jake admitted. “But it’s the same as yours: a hunter’s perspective.” Jake moved closer to Logan, and the other boy looked away again. “There’s no mark on your body that you need to be ashamed of,” Jake said gravely. “You should be proud of every battle wound: they show that you’ve suffered for the sake of other people, that you’ve faced things that have killed others, and survived. If other people can’t appreciate that, they can’t appreciate any part of the person you are. They aren’t worth your time.”
Logan glanced at Jake, then looked away again. “Maybe,” he said slowly, but Jake could see that he was smiling just a little.
“Definitely,” Jake insisted, and although Logan ducked his head, Jake could see his smile widen. Jake turned away from Logan and went back to his own bed. He pulled back the covers and crawled under, then concentrated on the television. He heard the rustle of fabric as Logan’s towel dropped and the other teen pulled on a fresh pair of boxers, then slid under the covers of the bed. When the noise stopped, Jake turned back to Logan and saw him facing the TV.
“You watching this?” Jake asked.
“Not really.”
“Okay if I turn it off?”
“Sure.”
“You ready to turn the lights out and go to bed?”
“Go ahead.”
Jake flicked off the TV, then the bedside lamp. Instantly the room was bathed in darkness. Jake lay down and tried to concentrate on sleep. The sounds of Logan shifting in bed to get comfortable seemed much louder, in this little room so close together, than they had in the huge barn full of other kids. Finally everything was quiet. Too quiet.
“Hey, Logan?” Jake called softly.
“Yeah?”
“You have to tell me about another one tomorrow.”
He heard Logan laugh softly. “You got any scars?”
“A few. No hunting scars, though.”
“Way I see it, you owe me a story tomorrow night, not the other way around.”
“Fine. Tell me the night after, then.” Logan laughed but didn’t reply, and Jake smiled. “G’night,” he murmured.
There was silence for a moment, and Jake wondered if saying goodnight wasn’t too childish a thing for Logan to do. Then he heard the other boy answer him softly. “Night.”
Jake grinned as he burrowed down into his covers. The night had started out awkwardly, and he still regretted and didn’t understand some of the things he’d said. But it seemed that Logan was starting to like him, maybe, a little. Somehow that made Jake ridiculously happy.
*** Previous Chapter *** Master Post *** Next Chapter ***