Fic: Stolen Car (The Day After Tomorrow, JD/Brian, PG)
This started out as an answer to the red_light_me Car Sex Challenge, but it went all PG on me pretty much right away. So then I was going to write Suicide Kings porn for the challenge just to save face, but I ran out of time. I'm constantly out of time lately, and I know I owe everybody and their brother a comment. I will get to them eventually, I swear. Hopefully at some point this week, although work is going to be insane for the next little while so if I'm not around, that's why.
There's an abandoned car at the edge of the camp. A Chevy, he thinks, but the logo's long gone and he's never been all that good with domestic cars. The body's mostly rusted and the seats smell a lot like mildew, but it's out of the wind and away from the rest of the survivors, and that's the best they can hope for at this point. And he hates it, because he feels like he should be able to do more. Like he should be able to give Brian more, but all his dad's money is gone and now he's just like everybody else.
He has a feeling Brian wasn't impressed by his money anyway. Brian's not the type - not like Sam, who practically swallowed his own tongue when he thought J.D. was trying to impress Laura with his money. J.D. still laughs when he thinks about it, shakes his head and grins when he catches Sam giving him weird looks even now. And he's starting to think Sam's never going to figure it out, but it's just as well. Because J.D. was interested, but only for…like, a second before he saw what was right in front of him.
They've been inseparable since the library, and everybody thinks it's just a safety in numbers thing, but J.D. doesn't care. He doesn't care what they think they know, doesn't care about anything except the way Brian slides into the abandoned car next to him, avoiding the spring sticking up through one side of the back seat and letting J.D. pull him close. Practically crawling into J.D.'s lap, and maybe he's just trying to get warm, but his head's already tilted up expectantly and J.D. grins as he leans in and presses their lips together.
He feels the shiver through all the layers Brian's wearing, tightens his grip on the other boy and slides a hand inside his coat, past the too-big flannel button-down to flatten against his chest. Imagines he can feel Brian's heart beating under his hand, steady and strong and J.D.'s own heart skips a beat in response.
They've been here for a couple months now, one day blurring into the next and he keeps expecting somebody to say something - do something - but so far nothing's happened. No one's said anything about going home, about going back and figuring out what they can salvage, and even though he knows it's stupid he can't help wondering if maybe his brother's still out there somewhere.
He wonders if New York's still a frozen wasteland, wonders if he's ever going to see it again and if his father's building even made it through the floods. There's a part of him that wants to go back, to walk there if he has to because sitting around and waiting is making him crazy. But Brian's still here, and J.D. wants Brian more than he wants to see Manhattan.
I wish… he thinks, realizes he says it out loud when Brian pulls back to blink at him.
"What?"
"Nothing," J.D. answers, but they both know that's a lie. He wishes…everything, for his brother to be okay and for Brian's parents to have survived, wishes they were back in Manhattan on that day before the storm, so he could come on to Brian at the party instead of trying to get under Sam's skin. Wishes he hadn't wasted that one night back at his apartment, with six big beds in six different rooms and Sam and Laura would never have known.
Even if they'd just spent the whole night kissing - even if they'd sat up and just talked all night long - he wouldn't have cared, because at least he'd know what it was like to lie next to Brian in a bed. Because now all they've got is too-thin cots in a giant tent with a hundred other survivors, and the only privacy they get is in this stupid car.
"It's just…sometimes I wish we hadn't left New York."
"We had to," Brian answers, eyes bright and mouth turned down in a slightly puzzled frown, and J.D. can't help laughing.
"I know. Forget it, it's stupid."
"I wouldn't say it's stupid," Brian begins, but before he gets further than that J.D.'s kissing him again, swallowing the rest of his sentence because he doesn't want to hear it. He doesn't need Brian to make him feel better - not with words, anyway - when they both know talking about it isn't going to change anything. And he doesn't want to stop kissing Brian, because he has a feeling as soon as he does Brian's going to start talking again.
But they have to come up for air eventually, and when they do Brian's looking at him. He expects questions, or maybe a lecture on not looking back at things they're never going to see again. But Brian doesn't bring up New York or the fact that J.D. can't let go of what they left behind; instead he reaches for J.D.'s free hand, threading their fingers together and his skin's warm for once.
"Sam asked me about us today."
It's not that surprising. They spend all their time together, after all, and they disappear every chance they get. J.D. knew somebody would notice eventually, he just hoped Sam was too wrapped up in Laura to pay attention to what they were doing. And it's not that he cares whether or not Sam knows, but Brian might.
"What about us?" he asks, hoping he sounds less worried than he feels. Because he doesn't want to lose the one good thing in his life, but if Brian freaks out he won't have much choice.
"He wanted to know where we go all the time."
"What'd you tell him?" J.D. asks, heart pounding way too loud and he's sure Brian can hear it. Part of him expects Brian to be pulling away, but their hands are still entwined and Brian doesn't look like he's in any hurry to let go.
"I told him it was none of his business and that I didn't ask him questions about Laura." He takes a deep breath, chest rising and falling under J.D.'s hand before he forces himself to look up. "I know I should have made sure it was okay with you before I said something. I didn't mean to say it, it just sort of…happened."
He wants to laugh, because he can't believe Brian's worried that he's going to be mad. And that really is stupid, but he doesn't say it. Instead he just shakes his head and leans close, lips just brushing against Brian's before he pulls back far enough to answer. "So what did he say?"
"He didn't," Brian answers, frown weirdly distorted from this close up. "Laura interrupted us before he had a chance. So you're not mad?"
"Of course not. To tell you the truth, I'm surprised it took him so long to figure it out. I thought he was supposed to be smart."
This time he does laugh, but Brian's laughing too and when he tightens his grip on J.D.'s hand J.D. leans in and presses a kiss to the corner of Brian's mouth. And it's not their own room back in New York, but they're together, and that's all J.D. really cares about.
There's an abandoned car at the edge of the camp. A Chevy, he thinks, but the logo's long gone and he's never been all that good with domestic cars. The body's mostly rusted and the seats smell a lot like mildew, but it's out of the wind and away from the rest of the survivors, and that's the best they can hope for at this point. And he hates it, because he feels like he should be able to do more. Like he should be able to give Brian more, but all his dad's money is gone and now he's just like everybody else.
He has a feeling Brian wasn't impressed by his money anyway. Brian's not the type - not like Sam, who practically swallowed his own tongue when he thought J.D. was trying to impress Laura with his money. J.D. still laughs when he thinks about it, shakes his head and grins when he catches Sam giving him weird looks even now. And he's starting to think Sam's never going to figure it out, but it's just as well. Because J.D. was interested, but only for…like, a second before he saw what was right in front of him.
They've been inseparable since the library, and everybody thinks it's just a safety in numbers thing, but J.D. doesn't care. He doesn't care what they think they know, doesn't care about anything except the way Brian slides into the abandoned car next to him, avoiding the spring sticking up through one side of the back seat and letting J.D. pull him close. Practically crawling into J.D.'s lap, and maybe he's just trying to get warm, but his head's already tilted up expectantly and J.D. grins as he leans in and presses their lips together.
He feels the shiver through all the layers Brian's wearing, tightens his grip on the other boy and slides a hand inside his coat, past the too-big flannel button-down to flatten against his chest. Imagines he can feel Brian's heart beating under his hand, steady and strong and J.D.'s own heart skips a beat in response.
They've been here for a couple months now, one day blurring into the next and he keeps expecting somebody to say something - do something - but so far nothing's happened. No one's said anything about going home, about going back and figuring out what they can salvage, and even though he knows it's stupid he can't help wondering if maybe his brother's still out there somewhere.
He wonders if New York's still a frozen wasteland, wonders if he's ever going to see it again and if his father's building even made it through the floods. There's a part of him that wants to go back, to walk there if he has to because sitting around and waiting is making him crazy. But Brian's still here, and J.D. wants Brian more than he wants to see Manhattan.
I wish… he thinks, realizes he says it out loud when Brian pulls back to blink at him.
"What?"
"Nothing," J.D. answers, but they both know that's a lie. He wishes…everything, for his brother to be okay and for Brian's parents to have survived, wishes they were back in Manhattan on that day before the storm, so he could come on to Brian at the party instead of trying to get under Sam's skin. Wishes he hadn't wasted that one night back at his apartment, with six big beds in six different rooms and Sam and Laura would never have known.
Even if they'd just spent the whole night kissing - even if they'd sat up and just talked all night long - he wouldn't have cared, because at least he'd know what it was like to lie next to Brian in a bed. Because now all they've got is too-thin cots in a giant tent with a hundred other survivors, and the only privacy they get is in this stupid car.
"It's just…sometimes I wish we hadn't left New York."
"We had to," Brian answers, eyes bright and mouth turned down in a slightly puzzled frown, and J.D. can't help laughing.
"I know. Forget it, it's stupid."
"I wouldn't say it's stupid," Brian begins, but before he gets further than that J.D.'s kissing him again, swallowing the rest of his sentence because he doesn't want to hear it. He doesn't need Brian to make him feel better - not with words, anyway - when they both know talking about it isn't going to change anything. And he doesn't want to stop kissing Brian, because he has a feeling as soon as he does Brian's going to start talking again.
But they have to come up for air eventually, and when they do Brian's looking at him. He expects questions, or maybe a lecture on not looking back at things they're never going to see again. But Brian doesn't bring up New York or the fact that J.D. can't let go of what they left behind; instead he reaches for J.D.'s free hand, threading their fingers together and his skin's warm for once.
"Sam asked me about us today."
It's not that surprising. They spend all their time together, after all, and they disappear every chance they get. J.D. knew somebody would notice eventually, he just hoped Sam was too wrapped up in Laura to pay attention to what they were doing. And it's not that he cares whether or not Sam knows, but Brian might.
"What about us?" he asks, hoping he sounds less worried than he feels. Because he doesn't want to lose the one good thing in his life, but if Brian freaks out he won't have much choice.
"He wanted to know where we go all the time."
"What'd you tell him?" J.D. asks, heart pounding way too loud and he's sure Brian can hear it. Part of him expects Brian to be pulling away, but their hands are still entwined and Brian doesn't look like he's in any hurry to let go.
"I told him it was none of his business and that I didn't ask him questions about Laura." He takes a deep breath, chest rising and falling under J.D.'s hand before he forces himself to look up. "I know I should have made sure it was okay with you before I said something. I didn't mean to say it, it just sort of…happened."
He wants to laugh, because he can't believe Brian's worried that he's going to be mad. And that really is stupid, but he doesn't say it. Instead he just shakes his head and leans close, lips just brushing against Brian's before he pulls back far enough to answer. "So what did he say?"
"He didn't," Brian answers, frown weirdly distorted from this close up. "Laura interrupted us before he had a chance. So you're not mad?"
"Of course not. To tell you the truth, I'm surprised it took him so long to figure it out. I thought he was supposed to be smart."
This time he does laugh, but Brian's laughing too and when he tightens his grip on J.D.'s hand J.D. leans in and presses a kiss to the corner of Brian's mouth. And it's not their own room back in New York, but they're together, and that's all J.D. really cares about.