Crossing Lines, Reading Signs [Jimmy/Roger]
Title: Crossing Lines, Reading Signs
Author:casiedearestfic
Pairing: Jimmy Novak/Roger
Rating: R
Warnings: Unbeta'd, slight case of Amelia-hate.
Words: 2800
Summary: It's a friendship, nothing more. At least... that's the story.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the boys. All characters belong to respective copyrights.
Notes: Roger? Roger is Jimmy's neighbor and BFF, otherwise known as the demon who got his face bashed in by Jimmy. But, you know... we can just skip that part. Written for the Roger square on my spnsupporting table.
Roger's shoes made a familiar sort of scuff along the grass, as he crossed the distance between his house and the Novak's. It was a journey that took twelve steps and ten seconds, thirteen if he was tired. It was a small part of his day, but one that he could count on to end well, no matter how many times he tripped along the way. Seeing Jimmy was unlike anything else. It wasn't overly comfortable, never boring or predicable. It wasn't tense or stressful, either, never in a way that was negative, at least. It was exactly the right amount of nerve-wracking, a perfect dose of adrenaline.
Claire answered the door before he could knock.
"Daddy!" Roger watched as she ran down the hall, sliding on her socks, as she searched for her father. She was going the wrong way, Roger knew. He'd be in the kitchen right now, but... perhaps he was the only one who knew that.
"Alright, alright," Jimmy's voice sounded through the halls, and Roger stepped inside without being asked, familiar warmth of the house surrounding him, as he shut the door behind him.
"I tried to call you earlier, you," Jimmy rounded into Roger's vision, Claire pulling at him, shoving papers in his face. "You didn't pick up," He finished, eyes on Claire's work before finding their way to Roger's face.
"I had to visit my mom this morning, actually," Roger explained, following Jimmy into the living room. "She, uh..." He trailed off as he dropped down onto the couch, leg pressed tightly against Jimmy's, a foot of empty space between his hip and the arm of the couch on his other side. "I don't think..."
"I would have gone with you," Jimmy replied immediately, voice low and dark and almost warning suddenly. Roger nodded, knowing he would have. He'd had half a mind to call him that morning, beg him to go to the hospital with him. But, Jimmy had a job, Jimmy had a life, responsibilities, a child, a wife, things that counted on him, things he couldn't just drop.
"You had to work this morning," Roger countered honestly, forcing his eyes to focus on the television, barely taking in the details of Everybody Loves Raymond.
"I would have--" Jimmy cut his words short as Amelia entered the room, bright and smiling, the kind of smile that turned her mouth in all the right places, made her cheeks glow, but never quite reached her eyes. "I would have called in sick," He finished quietly, turning into Roger as he said it.
"Good evening, Roger," Amelia greeted, in a way that was stiff and practiced.
"Amelia," Roger nodded with an equal lack of warmth , earning a pinch to the side from Jimmy. He'd tried to be civil with her at first, tried to be friendly and caring. And there was a time, once upon a time, where she had been the same. They'd worked hard to carry on conversations while Jimmy was out of the room, never bringing to light the fact that the conversations were always the same; weather and work, children and parents. See you later, Roger. Good night, Amelia.
"So, Roger," Amelia drawled, voice laced with something spiteful. "How's your mother?" She asked carelessly, cleverly disguising her snark by hiding it under words that her husband would interpret as caring. Amelia was a good person, she was. Roger could see that. There was nothing wrong with her, nothing not to like. She was a good mother, and a good wife, a good friend to those who earned it. But to Roger, she was only an obstacle. And sometime, somehow, Amelia had caught on to that fact.
"She's not well, thanks for asking," Roger replied in monotone, shifting his body slightly away from her, cutting her off as he turned toward Jimmy, who was eyeing him up in a way that rarely happened on Jimmy's side of the ditch.
"Amelia," Jimmy called softly, speaking to her, but looking at him. She didn't reply, as she often tended not to. She'd simply wait, just wait and take it, whatever it was that her husband was about to say. "I'll be home later," He finished, standing easily, professionally, almost.
"Of course you will," Amelia offered back, an instant burn, because yes... he would be home later. He would return to her. Of course he would.
The journey between houses always seemed longer when they were doing it together. It was always silent, always tense, neither man knowing how to act. The yard was a sort of twilight zone, some strange kind of abyss where the boundaries blurred, because neither knew exactly where the border was, that invisible property line that separated their lives, divided their relationship into two halves. The friendship in Jimmy's house, where they could comfortably and safely talk about work, family, politics, for hours on end, just talking. Making coffee, watching the news, helping Claire with her homework. It was how it'd all started... in Jimmy's house. But eventually, Jimmy had started making the trek across the yard, stepping out of his life, and into Roger's, shiny black work shoes toeing across the line, until...
Roger's breath hitched in his throat as Jimmy's hands pushed at his hips, slamming him hard against the wall, shaking the key rack down from the plaster. Roger didn't worry about that; they'd already broken it last week.
"That was risky, Jimmy," Roger warned, words muffled against his neighbor's lips.
"She doesn't know," Jimmy answered back, knowing it was a lie. She knew, she always had. Maybe not at first, maybe not for a while. But now... now she knew. The lies were just less painful.
"I know," Roger smirked sadly, internally trying to count the phases this whole arrangement had gone through. At first, it'd been nervewracking, a constant question of morals and majors. But that had faded fast, outweighed by harder, faster, deeper, until somehow... it'd become slower, sweeter... stay.
"Jimmy," Roger's quiet moment of angst faded fast, replaced by a devious need, as Jimmy's hands fumbled over his belt, more sure and skilled now than they'd been last month. Last week. Last time, even.
"I missed you today," Jimmy admitted, pulling Roger up the stairs. It was words like that that were the source of confliction, words like that that would cut deep, before healing the wounds all the same. Roger didn't want a fuck. He didn't want stolen moments of meaningless sex, but he'd take that over whatever this was. Moments borrowed from Amelia, a man just dropping by on a detour, before returning to his life, a life that didn't involve waking up in Roger's bed. Ever.
"I missed you too," Roger confirmed anyway, knowing, and hating that it was true. He hated the way that Jimmy was always on his mind. I should call him. I should tell him. I should bring him. He winced as the back of his legs his the bed, throwing him off balance, as Jimmy did nothing to help him regain it. He closed his eyes as Jimmy crawled over him, pressing soft, slow kisses over his jaw.
"Don't do that, baby," Roger warned, mentally noting that the fact that he'd just called him 'baby' was reason enough to stop. He could handle the bites and the scratches, the deep aches and surface bruises. At least those would all still be there when Jimmy left. But, the soft kisses? Fingers in his hair, light touches on his arms? When Jimmy left, he took those with him. And that hurt more than the marks.
"Don't tell me what to do," Jimmy threw back, pulling Roger's pants down over his thighs. Roger studied him for a moment, wondering how and why his hair was already a fucked out mess. Had he even touched it yet?
"Don't tell me not to tell you... not to..." Roger bit his lip as Jimmy licked his own.
Nothing mattered any more.
It was late. Late and dark. Late and dark and cold. Roger was in his kitchen, alone at his table, eyes blurred and needing sleep. The coffee mug was warm in his hands, burning a little hot in the creases on his palms, but the welcome warmth on his fingertips was too blissful to push away. Jimmy had stayed later than he'd intended, later than he ever had. It was early into the morning, well past midnight, by the time he finally put his pants back on, and made his way back across their line. He'd fumbled with his tie, sliding the knot slowly up his chest. He'd left his hair a mess, left his shoes untied, all until the last possible moment, where 'Baby, please stay, wait, don't...' turned into 'See you tomorrow, Jimmy. See you tomorrow.'
"Please?" Roger begged into the phone, wondering what it'd take to convince Jimmy this was a good idea.
"I don't..." Jimmy sighed deeply, and Roger swore he could almost hear his thoughts turning. "I want to, Roger, but... that's really... that's a big deal."
Roger closed his eyes, deciding to launch into phase two. "Tell her my mother died, Jimmy," He risked. "Tell her, and she will let you go," He continued, feeling the instant and expected sense of guilt as he used his own family as an excuse.
"That's horrible," Jimmy snapped back after a moment of silence, a silence that let Roger known that he'd at least spent a moment to consider it.
"What's horrible is what we're doing, Jimmy," Roger pushed, "I'm not okay with it anymore, you need to spend the night with me," He tried again to convince his friend. "Please."
Jimmy stuttered for a moment, random consonants falling through the phone, and Roger waited patiently, sure he was fighting a losing battle. All he wanted was one night, one night, where Jimmy could be his. Really his, not just something he got to play with for a couple hours, not just something he could stick his dick in for a while, but someone he could really spend a night with. "One night, Jimmy."
"I just think... you really..." Jimmy tripped over his words, unfinished thoughts spinning through the phone line, before finally; "Okay."
"She was angry," Jimmy said, in place of a greeting, as he let himself into Roger's house.
"But you came anyway," Roger replied, standing awkwardly far from his friend.
"Of course," Jimmy answered, crossing the distance easily, naturally. "You know that... I do want this," he explained, stepping into Roger's personal space.
"You do?" Roger questioned, closing his eyes as Jimmy's fingers found their way into his hair.
"You know I do."
The night was quiet and comfortable, for the most part, lazy kisses while Jimmy laid on top of Roger, almost innocently, on the couch. They'd watched movies, played board games, cooked dinner, and filled the silence with casual conversations, ones that couldn't be had anywhere else.
I had a dream about you last night.
I like when you don't wear a condom.
I mentioned you to my co-worker... almost forgot to call you my neighbor, instead of my--
"Do you ever..." Roger started, voicing his thoughts without making the conscious decision to do so. "If you didn't have Amelia, would you... would we --"
"Yes," Jimmy replied easily, quickly, with as much confidence as he used while pitching ad time, as if it were a practiced reply, something he'd thought about. "We would," He answered vaguely, providing more questions than he'd resolved.
"We would what, Jimmy?" Roger pressed, running one hand down Jimmy's back. "We would be friends? We would... we'd be lovers? We'd fuck? We'd b--"
"We'd be... together," Jimmy sighed heavily, chest pressing hard against Roger's. "Differently, maybe seriously. If you wanted me, and I had nothing to hold me back, nothing to lose like I have now, I'd... I'd be with you," He explained suddenly, far more of an answer than Roger had anticipated. What he also hadn't expected... was his own reaction.
"Huh," He mused angrily, feeling himself tense under Jimmy's body. He opened his mouth to speak, not even sure what to say.
"What?" Jimmy questioned, turning to look at Roger, eyes wide and innocent, as if he really didn't know.
"You want to be with me, then?" Roger asked, in a way that was sort of rhetorical. "Theoretically", He corrected, "If you... you're just..." He bit out his words a little too harshly, and he almost regretted it, once Jimmy's expression turned dark and afraid. "You know how I feel about you, Jimmy, I'm done denying it," He started, finally voicing the words that had been echoing in his mind for months."And you're telling me now, that I had a chance? I have some chance, but... but you just can't?" He summed up incredulously, wondering if his point was making it's way into Jimmy's mind or not.
"Roger, you--"
"No, Jimmy, you can't just tell me that we could be together... and then follow it up by saying that we can't."
Jimmy swallowed hard, eyes wide and wet, lips trembling, face paling.
"Do you even realize what you do to me? Do you rea--" Roger's words were cut short, swallowed by Jimmy, as he leaned up to press his lips to Roger's. It was far from being their first kiss; thousandth, perhaps. But it felt electric, soft and hard at the same time, unfamiliar and new. It was a question, a motion that was underlined with offerings and opportunities. It lasted for a long moment, changing the air around them with something that had never been present before. It wasn't the kind of kiss they usually shared. It wasn't fuck me, or sleep well. It was something else entirely, something more like...
"I love you, Roger," Jimmy concluded suddenly, breaking away from the kiss. He was blushing deeply, eyes burning blue, and Roger's breath hitched as he processed the words.
"Don't fuck around like that, Jimmy, I can't--"
"I love you... Roger," He repeated, saying the words with more prominence, more meaning and conviction. Roger studied his face for a moment, an immeasurable length of time that stretched impossibly long.
"I love you too," He answered back finally, heart thudding uncomfortably at the way the words felt on his tounge. They were honest and certain, words that Roger had felt dancing through the back of his mind for a long time now, always ticking his thoughts. But, they felt sharp and scary, now that they were real. Like the forbidden quality of the truth would send the police crashing through the doors at any moment.
"I'm gonna tell her," Jimmy said, voice broken and loud around his ragged breaths. "I'm gonna... she's gotta... I can't lie to her anym--"
"Calm down," Roger soothed, pulling Jimmy to rest flat against his chest, as he ran one hand over his back, the other through his hair. "Just relax for a moment... for... for this one night, Jimmy," He added, as he stared at the ceiling, feeling confused and pensive.
They laid there for a long time, saying nothing, doing nothing. Just laying, just being, and eventually, sleeping.
Roger woke up with Jimmy on top of him, warm and soft and so much more than he'd expected. He'd dreamed about it time and time again; waking up with Jimmy, rather than getting off with him. They both stayed silent for another long moment, before Roger finally asked the question that he wasn't even sure he wanted the answer to.
"Did you mean it?"
Jimmy took a deep breath, long and low, before finally replying; "All of it."
Roger nodded, smiling softly, as Jimmy's hands played with the collar of his shirt.
All he'd wanted was one night; one night where he could call Jimmy his, not worry about you should go home now, or I have to work tomorrow. He'd never anticipated it would end like this, with the end of their one night being the start of their one life.
Roger laughed softly, suddenly, and Jimmy looked up at him with confused eyes, questions unasked.
"I was just thinking," Roger started, laughing harder now, and not even really sure why. "If we ever got married?" He risked, "We could announce it on AM Radio time."
-End-
Author:casiedearestfic
Pairing: Jimmy Novak/Roger
Rating: R
Warnings: Unbeta'd, slight case of Amelia-hate.
Words: 2800
Summary: It's a friendship, nothing more. At least... that's the story.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the boys. All characters belong to respective copyrights.
Notes: Roger? Roger is Jimmy's neighbor and BFF, otherwise known as the demon who got his face bashed in by Jimmy. But, you know... we can just skip that part. Written for the Roger square on my spnsupporting table.
Roger's shoes made a familiar sort of scuff along the grass, as he crossed the distance between his house and the Novak's. It was a journey that took twelve steps and ten seconds, thirteen if he was tired. It was a small part of his day, but one that he could count on to end well, no matter how many times he tripped along the way. Seeing Jimmy was unlike anything else. It wasn't overly comfortable, never boring or predicable. It wasn't tense or stressful, either, never in a way that was negative, at least. It was exactly the right amount of nerve-wracking, a perfect dose of adrenaline.
Claire answered the door before he could knock.
"Daddy!" Roger watched as she ran down the hall, sliding on her socks, as she searched for her father. She was going the wrong way, Roger knew. He'd be in the kitchen right now, but... perhaps he was the only one who knew that.
"Alright, alright," Jimmy's voice sounded through the halls, and Roger stepped inside without being asked, familiar warmth of the house surrounding him, as he shut the door behind him.
"I tried to call you earlier, you," Jimmy rounded into Roger's vision, Claire pulling at him, shoving papers in his face. "You didn't pick up," He finished, eyes on Claire's work before finding their way to Roger's face.
"I had to visit my mom this morning, actually," Roger explained, following Jimmy into the living room. "She, uh..." He trailed off as he dropped down onto the couch, leg pressed tightly against Jimmy's, a foot of empty space between his hip and the arm of the couch on his other side. "I don't think..."
"I would have gone with you," Jimmy replied immediately, voice low and dark and almost warning suddenly. Roger nodded, knowing he would have. He'd had half a mind to call him that morning, beg him to go to the hospital with him. But, Jimmy had a job, Jimmy had a life, responsibilities, a child, a wife, things that counted on him, things he couldn't just drop.
"You had to work this morning," Roger countered honestly, forcing his eyes to focus on the television, barely taking in the details of Everybody Loves Raymond.
"I would have--" Jimmy cut his words short as Amelia entered the room, bright and smiling, the kind of smile that turned her mouth in all the right places, made her cheeks glow, but never quite reached her eyes. "I would have called in sick," He finished quietly, turning into Roger as he said it.
"Good evening, Roger," Amelia greeted, in a way that was stiff and practiced.
"Amelia," Roger nodded with an equal lack of warmth , earning a pinch to the side from Jimmy. He'd tried to be civil with her at first, tried to be friendly and caring. And there was a time, once upon a time, where she had been the same. They'd worked hard to carry on conversations while Jimmy was out of the room, never bringing to light the fact that the conversations were always the same; weather and work, children and parents. See you later, Roger. Good night, Amelia.
"So, Roger," Amelia drawled, voice laced with something spiteful. "How's your mother?" She asked carelessly, cleverly disguising her snark by hiding it under words that her husband would interpret as caring. Amelia was a good person, she was. Roger could see that. There was nothing wrong with her, nothing not to like. She was a good mother, and a good wife, a good friend to those who earned it. But to Roger, she was only an obstacle. And sometime, somehow, Amelia had caught on to that fact.
"She's not well, thanks for asking," Roger replied in monotone, shifting his body slightly away from her, cutting her off as he turned toward Jimmy, who was eyeing him up in a way that rarely happened on Jimmy's side of the ditch.
"Amelia," Jimmy called softly, speaking to her, but looking at him. She didn't reply, as she often tended not to. She'd simply wait, just wait and take it, whatever it was that her husband was about to say. "I'll be home later," He finished, standing easily, professionally, almost.
"Of course you will," Amelia offered back, an instant burn, because yes... he would be home later. He would return to her. Of course he would.
The journey between houses always seemed longer when they were doing it together. It was always silent, always tense, neither man knowing how to act. The yard was a sort of twilight zone, some strange kind of abyss where the boundaries blurred, because neither knew exactly where the border was, that invisible property line that separated their lives, divided their relationship into two halves. The friendship in Jimmy's house, where they could comfortably and safely talk about work, family, politics, for hours on end, just talking. Making coffee, watching the news, helping Claire with her homework. It was how it'd all started... in Jimmy's house. But eventually, Jimmy had started making the trek across the yard, stepping out of his life, and into Roger's, shiny black work shoes toeing across the line, until...
Roger's breath hitched in his throat as Jimmy's hands pushed at his hips, slamming him hard against the wall, shaking the key rack down from the plaster. Roger didn't worry about that; they'd already broken it last week.
"That was risky, Jimmy," Roger warned, words muffled against his neighbor's lips.
"She doesn't know," Jimmy answered back, knowing it was a lie. She knew, she always had. Maybe not at first, maybe not for a while. But now... now she knew. The lies were just less painful.
"I know," Roger smirked sadly, internally trying to count the phases this whole arrangement had gone through. At first, it'd been nervewracking, a constant question of morals and majors. But that had faded fast, outweighed by harder, faster, deeper, until somehow... it'd become slower, sweeter... stay.
"Jimmy," Roger's quiet moment of angst faded fast, replaced by a devious need, as Jimmy's hands fumbled over his belt, more sure and skilled now than they'd been last month. Last week. Last time, even.
"I missed you today," Jimmy admitted, pulling Roger up the stairs. It was words like that that were the source of confliction, words like that that would cut deep, before healing the wounds all the same. Roger didn't want a fuck. He didn't want stolen moments of meaningless sex, but he'd take that over whatever this was. Moments borrowed from Amelia, a man just dropping by on a detour, before returning to his life, a life that didn't involve waking up in Roger's bed. Ever.
"I missed you too," Roger confirmed anyway, knowing, and hating that it was true. He hated the way that Jimmy was always on his mind. I should call him. I should tell him. I should bring him. He winced as the back of his legs his the bed, throwing him off balance, as Jimmy did nothing to help him regain it. He closed his eyes as Jimmy crawled over him, pressing soft, slow kisses over his jaw.
"Don't do that, baby," Roger warned, mentally noting that the fact that he'd just called him 'baby' was reason enough to stop. He could handle the bites and the scratches, the deep aches and surface bruises. At least those would all still be there when Jimmy left. But, the soft kisses? Fingers in his hair, light touches on his arms? When Jimmy left, he took those with him. And that hurt more than the marks.
"Don't tell me what to do," Jimmy threw back, pulling Roger's pants down over his thighs. Roger studied him for a moment, wondering how and why his hair was already a fucked out mess. Had he even touched it yet?
"Don't tell me not to tell you... not to..." Roger bit his lip as Jimmy licked his own.
Nothing mattered any more.
It was late. Late and dark. Late and dark and cold. Roger was in his kitchen, alone at his table, eyes blurred and needing sleep. The coffee mug was warm in his hands, burning a little hot in the creases on his palms, but the welcome warmth on his fingertips was too blissful to push away. Jimmy had stayed later than he'd intended, later than he ever had. It was early into the morning, well past midnight, by the time he finally put his pants back on, and made his way back across their line. He'd fumbled with his tie, sliding the knot slowly up his chest. He'd left his hair a mess, left his shoes untied, all until the last possible moment, where 'Baby, please stay, wait, don't...' turned into 'See you tomorrow, Jimmy. See you tomorrow.'
"Please?" Roger begged into the phone, wondering what it'd take to convince Jimmy this was a good idea.
"I don't..." Jimmy sighed deeply, and Roger swore he could almost hear his thoughts turning. "I want to, Roger, but... that's really... that's a big deal."
Roger closed his eyes, deciding to launch into phase two. "Tell her my mother died, Jimmy," He risked. "Tell her, and she will let you go," He continued, feeling the instant and expected sense of guilt as he used his own family as an excuse.
"That's horrible," Jimmy snapped back after a moment of silence, a silence that let Roger known that he'd at least spent a moment to consider it.
"What's horrible is what we're doing, Jimmy," Roger pushed, "I'm not okay with it anymore, you need to spend the night with me," He tried again to convince his friend. "Please."
Jimmy stuttered for a moment, random consonants falling through the phone, and Roger waited patiently, sure he was fighting a losing battle. All he wanted was one night, one night, where Jimmy could be his. Really his, not just something he got to play with for a couple hours, not just something he could stick his dick in for a while, but someone he could really spend a night with. "One night, Jimmy."
"I just think... you really..." Jimmy tripped over his words, unfinished thoughts spinning through the phone line, before finally; "Okay."
"She was angry," Jimmy said, in place of a greeting, as he let himself into Roger's house.
"But you came anyway," Roger replied, standing awkwardly far from his friend.
"Of course," Jimmy answered, crossing the distance easily, naturally. "You know that... I do want this," he explained, stepping into Roger's personal space.
"You do?" Roger questioned, closing his eyes as Jimmy's fingers found their way into his hair.
"You know I do."
The night was quiet and comfortable, for the most part, lazy kisses while Jimmy laid on top of Roger, almost innocently, on the couch. They'd watched movies, played board games, cooked dinner, and filled the silence with casual conversations, ones that couldn't be had anywhere else.
I had a dream about you last night.
I like when you don't wear a condom.
I mentioned you to my co-worker... almost forgot to call you my neighbor, instead of my--
"Do you ever..." Roger started, voicing his thoughts without making the conscious decision to do so. "If you didn't have Amelia, would you... would we --"
"Yes," Jimmy replied easily, quickly, with as much confidence as he used while pitching ad time, as if it were a practiced reply, something he'd thought about. "We would," He answered vaguely, providing more questions than he'd resolved.
"We would what, Jimmy?" Roger pressed, running one hand down Jimmy's back. "We would be friends? We would... we'd be lovers? We'd fuck? We'd b--"
"We'd be... together," Jimmy sighed heavily, chest pressing hard against Roger's. "Differently, maybe seriously. If you wanted me, and I had nothing to hold me back, nothing to lose like I have now, I'd... I'd be with you," He explained suddenly, far more of an answer than Roger had anticipated. What he also hadn't expected... was his own reaction.
"Huh," He mused angrily, feeling himself tense under Jimmy's body. He opened his mouth to speak, not even sure what to say.
"What?" Jimmy questioned, turning to look at Roger, eyes wide and innocent, as if he really didn't know.
"You want to be with me, then?" Roger asked, in a way that was sort of rhetorical. "Theoretically", He corrected, "If you... you're just..." He bit out his words a little too harshly, and he almost regretted it, once Jimmy's expression turned dark and afraid. "You know how I feel about you, Jimmy, I'm done denying it," He started, finally voicing the words that had been echoing in his mind for months."And you're telling me now, that I had a chance? I have some chance, but... but you just can't?" He summed up incredulously, wondering if his point was making it's way into Jimmy's mind or not.
"Roger, you--"
"No, Jimmy, you can't just tell me that we could be together... and then follow it up by saying that we can't."
Jimmy swallowed hard, eyes wide and wet, lips trembling, face paling.
"Do you even realize what you do to me? Do you rea--" Roger's words were cut short, swallowed by Jimmy, as he leaned up to press his lips to Roger's. It was far from being their first kiss; thousandth, perhaps. But it felt electric, soft and hard at the same time, unfamiliar and new. It was a question, a motion that was underlined with offerings and opportunities. It lasted for a long moment, changing the air around them with something that had never been present before. It wasn't the kind of kiss they usually shared. It wasn't fuck me, or sleep well. It was something else entirely, something more like...
"I love you, Roger," Jimmy concluded suddenly, breaking away from the kiss. He was blushing deeply, eyes burning blue, and Roger's breath hitched as he processed the words.
"Don't fuck around like that, Jimmy, I can't--"
"I love you... Roger," He repeated, saying the words with more prominence, more meaning and conviction. Roger studied his face for a moment, an immeasurable length of time that stretched impossibly long.
"I love you too," He answered back finally, heart thudding uncomfortably at the way the words felt on his tounge. They were honest and certain, words that Roger had felt dancing through the back of his mind for a long time now, always ticking his thoughts. But, they felt sharp and scary, now that they were real. Like the forbidden quality of the truth would send the police crashing through the doors at any moment.
"I'm gonna tell her," Jimmy said, voice broken and loud around his ragged breaths. "I'm gonna... she's gotta... I can't lie to her anym--"
"Calm down," Roger soothed, pulling Jimmy to rest flat against his chest, as he ran one hand over his back, the other through his hair. "Just relax for a moment... for... for this one night, Jimmy," He added, as he stared at the ceiling, feeling confused and pensive.
They laid there for a long time, saying nothing, doing nothing. Just laying, just being, and eventually, sleeping.
Roger woke up with Jimmy on top of him, warm and soft and so much more than he'd expected. He'd dreamed about it time and time again; waking up with Jimmy, rather than getting off with him. They both stayed silent for another long moment, before Roger finally asked the question that he wasn't even sure he wanted the answer to.
"Did you mean it?"
Jimmy took a deep breath, long and low, before finally replying; "All of it."
Roger nodded, smiling softly, as Jimmy's hands played with the collar of his shirt.
All he'd wanted was one night; one night where he could call Jimmy his, not worry about you should go home now, or I have to work tomorrow. He'd never anticipated it would end like this, with the end of their one night being the start of their one life.
Roger laughed softly, suddenly, and Jimmy looked up at him with confused eyes, questions unasked.
"I was just thinking," Roger started, laughing harder now, and not even really sure why. "If we ever got married?" He risked, "We could announce it on AM Radio time."
-End-