Jeith - Beginnings
Title: Beginnings
Pairing: Jeith (with one allusion to John/Pete)
Rating: PG-13
Timeframe: 1965? Early-ish Who
Disclaimer: I wish I owned the Who... maybe one day... muwahhaha just kidding
Summary:
Keith wants to make something more of his relationship with John, but will John go along with it?
“John, wait,” Keith called, as had been meaning to do at the end of countless rehearsals. He really only hung out with John after nighttime gigs, and then it was only about obtaining two things: beer and birds.
But now it would be different. He wanted to change things before it was too late.
The floppy mop of black hair froze and John Entwistle turned slowly to face Keith. He solemnly blinked his blue-gray eyes back at the boy, wondering what on earth he wanted this time.
“Better make it fast, kid. I wanna go home. Tired as hell.”
Keith swallowed his disappointment, but it still glistened in his eyes and lingered in his voice. “Well, I just wanted to ask whether you’d like to hang out with me today. But never mind, mate… I’ll just go home, I guess.” He blinked at his feet for a while and John stared back at him in amazement.
As Keith turned to go, John cleared his throat and stepped closer to him, lowering his hand to rest on Keith’s shoulder, encouraging the younger man to meet his eyes.
“Keith, I’m sorry. I didn’t…” His gruff voice trailed off as he became lost in the innocent brown eyes. “Sounds absolutely lovely,” he murmured with brotherly sincerity.
“Lovely,” Keith repeated in awe.
John gave a slight nod of his head; Keith took his hand and squeezed it.
John stared at their entwined fingers nervously as they headed down the vacant alley, but Keith had already launched into a conversation about American cars, which he knew very little about; but tension could never live long in Keith Moon’s company.
“Could we grab a bite?” Keith suddenly interrupted himself mid-sentence. “I’m starving.”
John quickly dropped the boy’s hand and shoved his own in his pocket, smirking as Keith led the way to a café without even waiting for his reply.
They settled at a table for two, which was unusual since they had only ever sat at a bar before. Keith was jawing about splitting an order of fish and chips, or something of the kind, and John just nodded sternly, agreeing to whatever Keith wanted. There was a big difference between sitting next to somebody and sitting across from that same person. He had never really noticed how innocent Keith looked, how soft his eyes were and how tender his lips…
“You don’t mind then, John? Oh, you are the best, mate!” Keith said jovially, popping the cap of his Coca-Cola. It wasn’t yet late enough for the boy to drink, John presumed, taking a sip of his own soda.
John was well-aware that “splitting” anything with Keith only meant that he would be paying for the boy’s meal and receive nothing but gratitude in return, but he never really minded too much. Someone had to take care of Keith, and John might as well be that person; he was the only one who never seemed to tire of Keith’s antics and constant excitement.
John jumped in his seat as he felt something come crawling up his knee, but Keith quickly shushed him. Peering cautiously under the table, John found that it was merely Keith’s hand searching to hold his own, so he silently offered it to him, brushing his small palm with his large thumb and rolling his eyes affectionately.
Keith beamed and moved in closer across the small table. His face was but a few inches from John’s, and he was fervently studyied the depths of John’s blue eyes until his gaze snapped away and he blushed profusely. His lips parted, causing John to break into a sweat, worried about what would come next.
“I really like you,” Keith said quietly to his coke bottle. “And I know that you… you’ve been looking at me in ways that cause Pete to grieve in jealousy.”
John now rouged to match the same pink of Keith’s face.
But Keith started again, “We don’t need to keep it secret any longer. But it won’t be publicized either,” he added quickly, seeing John’s expression grow pained. “Only those who are looking for our love will see it. Nobody will know. But I just don’t think there’s reason for us to hide it.”
John met his gaze for what seemed like hours, maybe even eternity until- “I have to pee,” Keith announced, and skipped off to use the loo.
Keith ran his hand under the sink for ten minutes, staring angrily at his reflection, as if trying to make it go away. He was stupid to think that John had liked him in that way. Of course he hadn’t. It had just been another one of his silly, conceited illusions. If only John had spared him enough to tell him so instead of sitting there in that dreadful silence!
With a great sigh, Keith wiped his hands on his trousers, remembering that he needed to get back to the table, where, he assumed, a hot basket of fish and chips awaited him, for John never started eating without him. Oh, John. He was a true gentleman, and a better man than Keith could ever hope for or hope to be.
Keith took a deep breath and unlocked the door, which flung open immediately.
Someone suddenly burst inside and bolted the lock while pinning Keith against the door.
“Mister, please! I-”
The man was panting heavily, and Keith was hyperventilating as well.
Keith struggled against the other man until the shock wore off, and then-
“John,” Keith said to the man softly. He raised a quivering hand to stroke the dense black hair.
John pushed impossibly closer, his body now fully pressed against Keith’s. Keith could feel a region of hardness growing in John’s pants, and he felt his own erection rise to the occasion.
Their lips parted and though they breathed heavily, each intake of air was synched, as if they were setting the tempo to their own song.
They leant their heads closer and closer together until their mouths collided and lips consumed the opposing pair.
John’s tongue slid against Keith’s teeth and into his dry mouth, where it squirmed until Keith moaned and pushed it back into its true residence with his own tongue.
They broke apart, wild-eyed and panting even more than before.
“Can we do that again?” Keith asked, sounding like a child who just witnessed a magic trick.
John chuckled. “My place next week?” he suggested, unlocking the door.
“Next week?” Keith licked his lips. “Will tomorrow do?”