Christmas Spirits (Part 6)
Title: Christmas Spirits
Author: Concupid
Pairing: Dan/Jones
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: language, non-explicit sex
Summary: Dan makes a new year’s resolution.
Author’s note: I finished my Christmas story before March! I am a model of efficiency.
A Place that isn’t Shoreditch
2014
One of Dan’s favorite new Christmas traditions was sneaking outside for a fag. Claire gave up smoking for Maya, and Dan was relying almost entirely on electronic cigarettes after getting bronchitis five times in as many months. It was no surprise that Claire gave up smoking for motherhood, but Dan was surprised to learn he cared more about breathing than smoking.
Claire took a long drag and coughed until there were tears in her eyes. Dan and Jones jeered at her weakness before following suit. Dan coughed so hard, he nearly lost consciousness. He leaned heavily on Jones and stared at the stars through tear-blurred eyes. The oxygen restriction made him feel high.
“Jones, you’re so talented. That book could be tweaked and on book shelves,” Claire said once she regained her composure. “Have you ever considered illustrating professionally?”
Dan watched Jones intently as his flat mate laughed.
“Trying is the first step towards failure,” Jones explained.
Claire rolled her eyes, “You’ve been living with Dan too long. Since when are you afraid of other people’s opinions?”
Jones shrugged and sank into his oversized winter coat. It had been big on Dan before Jones absorbed it into his own wardrobe.
“I have seen you DJ in a thong,” Claire continued. “You are not self-conscious.”
Dan wanted to defend Jones, but couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t make Jones feel more exposed. Claire had no remarkable talent or intellect, her gift was the kind of dogged determination that did not allow for failure. If Claire was capable of feeling insecure, she’d buried that weakness beneath so many layers of armor it was no longer relevant.
“Performance is transitory,” Jones explained. “It’s an experience that ends and then only exists in hollow recordings and inconsistent memories.”
Dan smiled at Jones’s explanation. Jones was an eccentric character, but when he spoke from the heart, he could be surprisingly articulate.
“Bullshit. You guys are just chickenshit and I’m not just talking about your careers. Christ, even Maya sees it.”
Claire’s dark eyes focused on Dan with such intensity, he wanted to hide behind Jones. He wanted to climb inside Jones’s coat with him and let the frost resistant material shield him from Claire’s judgment.
They were saved by Ned appearing and announcing, “The turkey. It’s too big. It’s too big to go in the refrigerator.”
Jones and Dan remained still as Claire turned her barely restrained disgust to Ned and breathed a simultaneous sigh of relief when she followed Ned inside, asking if he’d heard of the invention called “a knife”.
“You are really talented,” Dan whispered when Claire was gone.
“I’m also chickenshit,” Jones whispered back. “She’s right, but I’m too old to change. Besides, I have my sugar daddy. I’m all set. You should have gotten a prenup”
Dan smiled as Jones wriggled his way under Dan’s arm.
“Aren’t sugar daddies supposed to be rich? Or at least making a decent living?”
“Shit. I knew I was forgetting something.”
Dan rested his head against Jones’s and took another drag from his cigarette. It was Jones’s turn to hold Dan as he coughed until tears were pouring down his face.
“I never thought I’d live to see the day Dan Ashcroft couldn’t handle a fag,” Jones said mournfully. “It’s like finding out Father Christmas isn’t real.”
“More like Father Christmas is cutting out carbs to control his diabetes,” Dan corrected. “We all get old eventually.”
Jones wiped the tears from Dan’s cheeks with the sleeve of Dan’s former coat. Dan was dizzy from the lack of oxygen and Jones’s eyes were luminous in the low light.
“What would you say if I asked you to marry me?” Dan asked.
Jones pretended to think hard. “Not sure what I’d say. I’d have to move out in the middle of the night, obviously, run away and start a new life to avoid the awkwardness…”
“Maybe move all the way to Islington?” Dan suggested.
Jones grimaced, “That’s a bit far. Do they even use the same currency there?”
Dan shrugged, “I have no idea. I know you think I’m a savvy world traveler, being from Leeds and all, but I have allowed the moss to grow beneath my feet.”
“I could see you married.” Dan couldn’t place it, but there was something odd about Jones’s voice as he spoke. “You could have a life like this. This could suit you.”
Xxx
1994
House of Jones
Dan carried the sleeping DJ to his bed, and while Jones had stayed sound asleep through the awkward process of picking him up off the couch, the moment he was on his bed, his eyes shot open.
“Stay,” Jones implored softly, holding out his hand.
Dan allowed himself to be pulled into Jones’s bed and soon they were half naked and desperately grinding their bodies together. Dan was still drunk and full of Christmas melancholy, but Jones was beautiful and inviting in all his bony strangeness.
When Jones fell asleep on Dan’s arm, he took the excuse to stay where he was. After all, Jones had invited him to stay forever. Another night couldn’t hurt.
Xxx
A Place that isn’t Shoreditch
2014
Jones was giggling and it was making it hard for Dan to stay properly angry. Claire had smugly shown Dan his “real Christmas gift”, a vlog entry on trashbat.co.ck where Nathan explained why no one should be worried about his recent tussle with Dan Ashcroft. Highlights included Nathan thanking women of all age and size for their support and his explanation that the fight was simply a, “supernova caused by an ancient star imploding in the presence a younger, sexier star.” He assured his fans that his “beef” with Dan was now “anch-istory”, which apparently meant ancient history but sounded like h-istory. Nathan’s stupidity was painful, but Dan couldn’t work up a proper fury. He’d come to the decision that it was, in fact, better to not spend his holidays in prison for assault.
Jones took Dan’s hand as they walked to their rented car.
“I don’t want you to slip on the ice, old man.”
“If… when I actually murder Nathan Barley, will you come visit me in prison?” Dan asked. He couldn’t stop thinking of what Claire had said about Dan leaving Jones alone. His flat mate was the most self-sufficient person he’d ever met, yet he had remained with Dan for two decades. Jones refused to buy plants because he felt panicky at the responsibility, but he never hesitated to take care of Dan through his self-inflicted ailments.
“I’ll just jump in and help,” Jones responded. “Maybe we can be cellmates.”
“I do love you.”
“I know.”
As Dan drove back to the city, he had no more clue what he wanted from life than he’d had the day before, but he felt more at peace. Whatever it was that he had with Jones, whatever it was that kept his career going - he was doing all right. What was job security or a clearly defined sexuality to a person like Dan?
“Let’s write a children’s book,” Dan suggested as the drove. He could feel Jones discomfort and it made him smile.
“Why would we do that?” Jones asked in a nervous voice.
“Time to stop being chickenshit. Why not?”
Jones made a show of moving away from Dan, huddling on his side of the car, but Dan could see he was thinking hard. It felt good to throw Jones through a loop after all their years of comfortable homeostasis.
Dan decided that this year, he would make a New Year’s Resolution. He would follow Ned’s advice and “keep it foolish”. He would dedicate his year to pursuing the things he wanted and not worrying about being too old and immature.
“You’ve got a mad look in your eye,” Jones observed. “Are you really going to kill Nathan? You’re not going to join a gym again, are you? Remember that week? That was really weird. I still haven’t recovered.”
Dan shot Jones a wolfish look at patted his friend’s thigh.
“I might find a way to surprise you.”
Jones giggled and pushed Dan’s hand away. “It’s been twenty years, it’s not that surprising.”
Dan jerked the wheel and pulled the car to the side of the road.
“I bet I can surprise you right now.”
Jones blushed, but maintained his indifferent demeanor. “What are you going to do? Get your cock out on the side of the road in the middle of suburbia?”
“Probably. But first, I’m going to get yours out.”
Jones squawked and fussed at first, but he wasn’t one to refuse a blowjob.
When a police officer knocked on their steam-covered window, he took in the sensible rental car, Dan’s Topman outfit and Jones’s eccentric appearance and sent them on their way. While Jones bemoaned being taken for an over-the-hill rentboy, Dan felt pleased with himself. He was a chickenshit manchild, but he had somehow managed to cultivate the appearance of a respectable, proper adult. It was a Christmas miracle.
When Hozier’s “Take Me to Church” came on the radio, Jones cranked the song and sang along, adding “fa-la-la-la-la-la” wherever he could.
“You’re right, Dan, this is a good Christmas carol. I’m going to do a proper mix when we get home.”
Dan smiled and sang along.
“Offer me my deathless death, Good God, let me give you my life, fa-la-la-la-la…”
Author: Concupid
Pairing: Dan/Jones
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: language, non-explicit sex
Summary: Dan makes a new year’s resolution.
Author’s note: I finished my Christmas story before March! I am a model of efficiency.
A Place that isn’t Shoreditch
2014
One of Dan’s favorite new Christmas traditions was sneaking outside for a fag. Claire gave up smoking for Maya, and Dan was relying almost entirely on electronic cigarettes after getting bronchitis five times in as many months. It was no surprise that Claire gave up smoking for motherhood, but Dan was surprised to learn he cared more about breathing than smoking.
Claire took a long drag and coughed until there were tears in her eyes. Dan and Jones jeered at her weakness before following suit. Dan coughed so hard, he nearly lost consciousness. He leaned heavily on Jones and stared at the stars through tear-blurred eyes. The oxygen restriction made him feel high.
“Jones, you’re so talented. That book could be tweaked and on book shelves,” Claire said once she regained her composure. “Have you ever considered illustrating professionally?”
Dan watched Jones intently as his flat mate laughed.
“Trying is the first step towards failure,” Jones explained.
Claire rolled her eyes, “You’ve been living with Dan too long. Since when are you afraid of other people’s opinions?”
Jones shrugged and sank into his oversized winter coat. It had been big on Dan before Jones absorbed it into his own wardrobe.
“I have seen you DJ in a thong,” Claire continued. “You are not self-conscious.”
Dan wanted to defend Jones, but couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t make Jones feel more exposed. Claire had no remarkable talent or intellect, her gift was the kind of dogged determination that did not allow for failure. If Claire was capable of feeling insecure, she’d buried that weakness beneath so many layers of armor it was no longer relevant.
“Performance is transitory,” Jones explained. “It’s an experience that ends and then only exists in hollow recordings and inconsistent memories.”
Dan smiled at Jones’s explanation. Jones was an eccentric character, but when he spoke from the heart, he could be surprisingly articulate.
“Bullshit. You guys are just chickenshit and I’m not just talking about your careers. Christ, even Maya sees it.”
Claire’s dark eyes focused on Dan with such intensity, he wanted to hide behind Jones. He wanted to climb inside Jones’s coat with him and let the frost resistant material shield him from Claire’s judgment.
They were saved by Ned appearing and announcing, “The turkey. It’s too big. It’s too big to go in the refrigerator.”
Jones and Dan remained still as Claire turned her barely restrained disgust to Ned and breathed a simultaneous sigh of relief when she followed Ned inside, asking if he’d heard of the invention called “a knife”.
“You are really talented,” Dan whispered when Claire was gone.
“I’m also chickenshit,” Jones whispered back. “She’s right, but I’m too old to change. Besides, I have my sugar daddy. I’m all set. You should have gotten a prenup”
Dan smiled as Jones wriggled his way under Dan’s arm.
“Aren’t sugar daddies supposed to be rich? Or at least making a decent living?”
“Shit. I knew I was forgetting something.”
Dan rested his head against Jones’s and took another drag from his cigarette. It was Jones’s turn to hold Dan as he coughed until tears were pouring down his face.
“I never thought I’d live to see the day Dan Ashcroft couldn’t handle a fag,” Jones said mournfully. “It’s like finding out Father Christmas isn’t real.”
“More like Father Christmas is cutting out carbs to control his diabetes,” Dan corrected. “We all get old eventually.”
Jones wiped the tears from Dan’s cheeks with the sleeve of Dan’s former coat. Dan was dizzy from the lack of oxygen and Jones’s eyes were luminous in the low light.
“What would you say if I asked you to marry me?” Dan asked.
Jones pretended to think hard. “Not sure what I’d say. I’d have to move out in the middle of the night, obviously, run away and start a new life to avoid the awkwardness…”
“Maybe move all the way to Islington?” Dan suggested.
Jones grimaced, “That’s a bit far. Do they even use the same currency there?”
Dan shrugged, “I have no idea. I know you think I’m a savvy world traveler, being from Leeds and all, but I have allowed the moss to grow beneath my feet.”
“I could see you married.” Dan couldn’t place it, but there was something odd about Jones’s voice as he spoke. “You could have a life like this. This could suit you.”
Xxx
1994
House of Jones
Dan carried the sleeping DJ to his bed, and while Jones had stayed sound asleep through the awkward process of picking him up off the couch, the moment he was on his bed, his eyes shot open.
“Stay,” Jones implored softly, holding out his hand.
Dan allowed himself to be pulled into Jones’s bed and soon they were half naked and desperately grinding their bodies together. Dan was still drunk and full of Christmas melancholy, but Jones was beautiful and inviting in all his bony strangeness.
When Jones fell asleep on Dan’s arm, he took the excuse to stay where he was. After all, Jones had invited him to stay forever. Another night couldn’t hurt.
Xxx
A Place that isn’t Shoreditch
2014
Jones was giggling and it was making it hard for Dan to stay properly angry. Claire had smugly shown Dan his “real Christmas gift”, a vlog entry on trashbat.co.ck where Nathan explained why no one should be worried about his recent tussle with Dan Ashcroft. Highlights included Nathan thanking women of all age and size for their support and his explanation that the fight was simply a, “supernova caused by an ancient star imploding in the presence a younger, sexier star.” He assured his fans that his “beef” with Dan was now “anch-istory”, which apparently meant ancient history but sounded like h-istory. Nathan’s stupidity was painful, but Dan couldn’t work up a proper fury. He’d come to the decision that it was, in fact, better to not spend his holidays in prison for assault.
Jones took Dan’s hand as they walked to their rented car.
“I don’t want you to slip on the ice, old man.”
“If… when I actually murder Nathan Barley, will you come visit me in prison?” Dan asked. He couldn’t stop thinking of what Claire had said about Dan leaving Jones alone. His flat mate was the most self-sufficient person he’d ever met, yet he had remained with Dan for two decades. Jones refused to buy plants because he felt panicky at the responsibility, but he never hesitated to take care of Dan through his self-inflicted ailments.
“I’ll just jump in and help,” Jones responded. “Maybe we can be cellmates.”
“I do love you.”
“I know.”
As Dan drove back to the city, he had no more clue what he wanted from life than he’d had the day before, but he felt more at peace. Whatever it was that he had with Jones, whatever it was that kept his career going - he was doing all right. What was job security or a clearly defined sexuality to a person like Dan?
“Let’s write a children’s book,” Dan suggested as the drove. He could feel Jones discomfort and it made him smile.
“Why would we do that?” Jones asked in a nervous voice.
“Time to stop being chickenshit. Why not?”
Jones made a show of moving away from Dan, huddling on his side of the car, but Dan could see he was thinking hard. It felt good to throw Jones through a loop after all their years of comfortable homeostasis.
Dan decided that this year, he would make a New Year’s Resolution. He would follow Ned’s advice and “keep it foolish”. He would dedicate his year to pursuing the things he wanted and not worrying about being too old and immature.
“You’ve got a mad look in your eye,” Jones observed. “Are you really going to kill Nathan? You’re not going to join a gym again, are you? Remember that week? That was really weird. I still haven’t recovered.”
Dan shot Jones a wolfish look at patted his friend’s thigh.
“I might find a way to surprise you.”
Jones giggled and pushed Dan’s hand away. “It’s been twenty years, it’s not that surprising.”
Dan jerked the wheel and pulled the car to the side of the road.
“I bet I can surprise you right now.”
Jones blushed, but maintained his indifferent demeanor. “What are you going to do? Get your cock out on the side of the road in the middle of suburbia?”
“Probably. But first, I’m going to get yours out.”
Jones squawked and fussed at first, but he wasn’t one to refuse a blowjob.
When a police officer knocked on their steam-covered window, he took in the sensible rental car, Dan’s Topman outfit and Jones’s eccentric appearance and sent them on their way. While Jones bemoaned being taken for an over-the-hill rentboy, Dan felt pleased with himself. He was a chickenshit manchild, but he had somehow managed to cultivate the appearance of a respectable, proper adult. It was a Christmas miracle.
When Hozier’s “Take Me to Church” came on the radio, Jones cranked the song and sang along, adding “fa-la-la-la-la-la” wherever he could.
“You’re right, Dan, this is a good Christmas carol. I’m going to do a proper mix when we get home.”
Dan smiled and sang along.
“Offer me my deathless death, Good God, let me give you my life, fa-la-la-la-la…”