Like Vines and Noodle Salad | Jon/Brendon | NC-17 | by maple_mahogany
Like Vines and Noodle Salad
Part 6
Part 5
~^~
The day started with Big Plans about cleaning the house and doing laundry because, while Jon didn't think he was slob and he didn't have that much stuff, after a few weeks of really not doing anything besides dishes, the place was kind of gross. The washer and dryer were in the enclosed back porch, which made for a lot of up and down the stairs doing laundry. He was thinking about how Bill and Mike would pay him to put their folded clothes away when he was a kid and once again lamented his adulthood.
Richard III trotted under his feet and nearly tripped him, giving Jon his loud barking meow as if Jon had got in his way.
"One of these days, kitty-cat," Jon warned as he recovered from his near fall. "You and me, we're gonna throw down. All out, too, claws and teeth, dude. It's gonna be messy."
Richard III just walked away, showing Jon his furry little butt in response.
When he returned downstairs with a load of bath towels to wash, the cat ran under his feet again.
"Okay, what? You ignore me for weeks and now you're trying to kill me?"
The cat blinked at him.
"Are you out of water or something? Wanna play?" Jon bent down and tried to pet him, but he just looked at Jon and pushed through the kitty door.
Jon just shook his head and finished his work. It wasn't until he took the trash out the front door that he found Richard III, Clover, and Garfunkle all sitting near the front steps like they'd been waiting for him. He saw with a glance that Dylan was lying in his usual place under the potted ivy but then Jon gave a double take.
He wasn't stretched out in his usual feline leisure but looked slightly deflated.
"Hey, pretty kitty," Jon said gently, clucking little kissy sounds as he approached. Dylan had lost control of his bladder where he lay and hadn't moved at all. He was unnaturally still except for the rapid rise and fall of his rib cage. He half opened his eyes and made a silent mew at Jon before closing his eyes again. "Oh, no, kitty-kitty. What's wrong?" Jon patted his head carefully but was afraid to touch too much in case it hurt. "Dylan, sweetie? Hang on, okay?"
He went back in the house, grabbing a towel from the basket and his phone. He was abruptly regretting being a grown up in a way far more serious than for having to do laundry.
Brendon had put the number in his phone, but Jon had never called it before.
"Jon?" Ryan answered.
"Hey. Hi. Um, one of my cats is, he's sick or something and. Are you busy?"
"I'll be right there."
By the time Jon had Dylan wrapped in a towel and clutched in his arms, Ryan was there. "Where're your keys? I'll drive."
~^~
"Sorry, sorry. It's been a while since I drove a stick," Ryan muttered, as the transmission groaned when Ryan downshifted. Jon and Ryan exchanged looks but they shrugged off the obligatory driving-a-stick joke in light of the situation.
Ryan called Spencer on the way to the clinic so that when they arrived, they were taken straight into an examining room. It was odd seeing Spencer being all professional at work. Jon stared at the pattern on Spencer's scrub top - little footprint trails of different kinds of animals - while he answered what questions he could. He felt like the worst caretaker ever, because his answers were vague. All the cats ate and drank from the same bowls - they never went empty, he was sure of that - but he couldn't say for sure if Dylan had been eating or drinking any less. He was an old cat and didn't play like the others, so Jon hadn't noticed if his energy level had dropped recently.
"I'm sorry," he said, as much to Dylan as to Spencer.
"That's all right. I'd like you to sit with Ryan in the waiting area for a little while. I'm going to run an IV because he's dehydrated and draw some blood so we can run a few tests and after Dr. Cohen examines Dylan, he'll talk to you. Okay?"
Jon was thinking through all of that, worrying about any of that hurting Dylan, when Ryan put a hand high on Jon's arm. "What? Oh. Right, okay. Thanks, Spence."
~^~
For something that only took a little while to explain, the process took much longer. Jon and Ryan sat in the waiting room, flipping through magazines, while cats and dogs and even a pair of rabbits came and went all afternoon.
After hours, possibly hundreds and hundreds of hours, Jon thought, Spencer came for him. Ryan hung back a little, unsure, but Jon pulled him along.
The Veterinarian was holding Dylan, actually cradling the sick cat, while being mindful of the little IV line, in his arms. Jon was immediately impressed.
"Jon, this Dr. Cohen," Spencer introduced them. "Doctor, this is Jon Walker, he belongs to Dylan." Spencer had spoken highly of the man he worked for before and Jon could see the professional admiration on his face now.
"Have a seat, would you please?" The man had a nice smile and he ran a delicate finger back and forth between Dylan's ears as he spoke. "What we've got here, young man, is a very sick kitty, I'm sorry to say."
Jon sat down and did all the things one is supposed to when they have intelligent, adult to adult, Very Serious Conversations; he maintained eye contact and made polite noises of acknowledgement at appropriate intervals but he would have bet all of his inheritance that the man speaking was a grown-up character from the Peanuts. All he heard was 'wuah-wuah-wa-wa-wah'. Spencer interpreted and Jon comprehended a little bit more the second time around.
"I'll excuse you to think it over for a bit," Dr. Cohen said, carefully lying Dylan on the table. "If you wish to talk with me again, just let Spencer know. And I'm so sorry."
Jon laid his cheek on the paper lining of the examining table, with his face right up next to the cat's. Dylan opened his mouth and made a tiny noise, not quite a meow, and flexed his paw against Jon's nose before lying still again.
"So …" Jon asked Spencer, remaining where he was. "We could try the drugs for the one thing?"
"It's kind of like chemotherapy," Spencer said patiently because he was repeating himself now.
"And he wouldn't be able to go outside or be around the other cats and all that other stuff you said."
"That's right."
"And even if it worked, his heart isn't very strong anyway."
Jon heard Spencer shift around and Ryan move towards him, but Jon kept his gaze on Dylan as he pressed a fingertip to Dylan's paw, the little pink pads gripping him for a moment.
"Jon, I'm so sorry. I feel responsible here. I've been around him so much, I was just petting him the other day, I should have noticed."
"It's not your fault, Spence. Not at all."
"Um, excuse me," Ryan interrupted quietly. Jon raised his head then. "I'm gonna, just…" Without any further explanation, Ryan shuffled out of the room avoiding Jon's eyes.
Spencer looked as surprised as Jon and almost ashamed. "Uh, Ryan gets kinda creeped out by medical stuff. He doesn't mean anything by it."
"Yeah." Whatever. Jon thought he and Ryan had got to some kind of understanding but if he couldn't deal, then what the fuck ever. "I'm just gonna sit and talk to Dylan for a little while. If that's okay?"
"Totally. I have another patient waiting, but I'll be back." Spencer patted Jon on the shoulder as he left.
Jon put his chin on the table so that he was nose to nose with Dylan again, watching his breathing and trying to feel the exhale on his skin.
"I'm so sorry, sweetie."
That was all he could think of to say for the longest time.
"Sorry Gram isn't here and you're stuck with me." Dylan didn't seem to mind. "I guess this is the sort of thing that she had to decide for herself, right? I'll bet she talked to you about it." Jon continued to pet him carefully. "She knew what she wanted when she got sick. She just …" He remembered the file from the Hospice facility that Patrick had given him. He hadn't ever read the details.
~^~
The decision once made happened pretty quickly. There was paperwork to sign and more talking with the Vet and then Spencer led Jon and Dylan into a different room, one with more comfortable chairs.
Jon startled when the door opened again, thinking it was time, and was filled with relief when it turned out to be Brendon with Ryan trailing behind.
Jon had thought about Brendon throughout the day but kept returning to the feeling that Brendon was a luxury, like a privilege that Jon should have to do without. Like maybe he shouldn't be allowed to have anything that made him feel good when he was making life or death decisions. When his Grandma couldn't be the one doing it.
Except that when he grasped Brendon, felt him trembling against Jon's chest and whispered his apologies into Jon's ear, Jon realized how stupid that was. He didn't just want Brendon, he needed him a little, too.
Ryan was doing his best to blend into the wall, but Jon mouthed a silent 'thank you' to him and Ryan nodded, suppressing a timid smile. Jon took back every grumpy thought he'd ever aimed at Ryan Ross.
He'd brought him Brendon.
~^~
It happened quickly. It was scary and it was awful.
Brendon sang to Dylan for a few seconds and then whispered things that broke Jon's heart to hear. "Thanks for keeping me company when I was living with you, baby-kitty. You made me feel not so sad and alone."
Brendon meant to stay with them but he was upset enough that Ryan took him out to the waiting room.
Spencer sat next to Jon while the doctor administered the medication.
Dylan opened his eyes and looked at Jon one more time before he lay his head in Jon's palm and took his last breath.
~^~
Jon felt deeply sorry; sorry for Spencer because he felt so guilty and for Brendon who couldn't bear to lose anything else in his life. Sorry for the other cats at home who wouldn't understand, and sorry for Dylan. He acknowledged all of it intellectually as a very sad thing, but Jon still only felt a pragmatic connection to it all.
Brendon offered to drive him home, but there was no need. Ryan and Brendon offered to help him dig a burial place but there was only one shovel, so he did it himself. Spencer brought Dylan home in a discreet box and the four of them buried him under a mesquite tree high on the hill. Jon squeezed Brendon's hand when he sniffled, wiping his nose on his wrist, giving him a reassuring smile.
"Thanks for sticking around, guys. For everything. Sorry you missed classes, Ryan. I'm just gonna take a shower." He shrugged. "Have a few beers later. Whatever."
He didn't say anything about the curious looks they exchanged when they thought he wasn't looking. He wasn't sure what they wanted him to do.
Jon stayed under the hot water until it ran cold and then he dressed in his baggiest sweat pants and old, faded Guns N' Roses t-shirt. It was fully dark outside by then and the tiny lamp by the bed gave the room that warm, red glow that all of his memories of his Grandma were bathed in. The humidity from the shower had brought out the scent of lemon oil rubbed into the wood furniture and downstairs, the sound of Brendon's voice as he talked silliness to the cats triggered all of his senses to a sharp point. Jon gasped a breath as two months of denied grief hit him all at once.
"Oh, god," Jon whispered as he sat on the side of the bed. "Shit." She was really gone. His Grandma was never coming back to this house and it didn't matter if Jon sold it or burned it to the ground. It was all his now, because she was gone.
He felt a blow to his chest and remembered that heartache wasn't just a metaphor, that it actually, physically, hurt.
"Hey, I wondering if you wanted-?" Brendon came around the corner and stopped.
Jon held up a hand like he just needed a second and he'd be fine, but the breath he took resulted in a gulping hiccup. It was embarrassing and he felt the tears on his cheeks as his face heated.
"Jon?"
"I don't know. Fuck. It's not even Dylan. I mean it's …" Jon's throat stuck, and he pressed his palms to eyes.
"I know." Brendon climbed onto the bed and pulled Jon down with him into a hug. "I know who it's for. I'm so sorry."
It was nothing like hysterical sobbing, he hadn't cried like that since he was ten, but the silent stream of tears continued, getting Brendon's shirt-front wet. The sadness in him felt heavy but every breath seemed to let a little more of it out until the hurt and tears were replaced with utter exhaustion. Jon wrapped an arm around Brendon, feeling his back warm and solid under his hand, and at some point, Jon fell asleep.
In the midst of his stupor, he felt the bed dip and roll and thought Brendon was trying to go, but Jon shifted closer and lay his head on him.
~^~
Jon's psyche might have held hope for a grief-induced starvation, but Jon's stomach disagreed entirely. He hadn't eaten since breakfast and it felt like the acid was going to burn right through him.
He blinked his eyes open, vaguely recognized the sound of Jack Nicholson's voice from the TV on the dresser and opened his jaw to scratch his beard on Brendon's thigh - when he realized that it wasn't Brendon's thigh at all.
"Ryan?"
"Yeah?" came a quiet voice above him.
"Uh, sorry. What-?" Jon tried to sit up only to find he had a wicked crying-headache and his neck was stiff. "Ah, fuck it," he gave up and slumped back down to lay on Ryan's lap.
"Brendon and Spence went to get food. Brendon didn't want to go, he wanted to stay with you, but he looked like he needed to get out of the house."
"Okay," Jon sighed. He was feeling pretty small and sheepish anyway. Ryan's comfort would do.
"Brendon said to…" Ryan said after a momentary pause.
"Yeah?"
Ryan cleared his throat and put his hand over Jon's shoulder in a kind of hug. It's exactly what Brendon would have done if he were there. Jon laughed and his neck ached when he shook.
"Ow. You're kinda bony, Ross, anyone ever tell you that?" Jon shifted and finally glanced up at him.
Ryan looked at him with a completely straight face and said, "No. Never."
Jon chuckled, pulling a pillow over Ryan's legs and lay his head down again. He felt like crap and he'd been very grown up today and was going to be a baby for a little while. Clover jumped up and stared at Jon with dark eyes from the end of the bed.
"Hey there," Jon called, making scratchy fingers in the air. "C'mere, it's okay."
Clover curled up in the angle made by Ryan's legs and Jon's chest while Jon pet him. He was not going to cry again, he was sure, but a lingering wave of sadness creeping under his skin made him blow out a slow, shaky breath.
Ryan tightened his grip on Jon's shoulder a tiny bit. "They're going to keep telling you everything is okay," Ryan said, during a commercial break.
"Who?"
"Spencer and Brendon. Other people, too, I guess, and they mean well, because they don't want you to be depressed, so they'll keep telling you 'it's okay,' like maybe you'll just forget to be sad."
"… Yeah?"
"Hm. They don't understand. They care and they want you to be happy. But sometimes you're just sad and it sucks. That's okay, too."
It was possibly the most depressing pep talk Jon had ever been given, but considering the source, Jon appreciated it all the more.
"Thanks."
With a headache beating in Jon's temples, he fell asleep again but woke later when he felt Brendon's body, always hot to the touch, spoon up behind him, pillowing his head in Ryan's lap, too.
"Hey, you, brought food," he murmured to Jon, kissing behind his ear and squeezing him around the chest.
Jon hummed his approval but didn't move or open his eyes.
"Who smells so good?" Spencer asked, as the bed moved when he sat on the other side of Ryan.
"Jon. Jon's hair." Brendon nuzzled him again to demonstrate. "He always smells good. It's soft, too! Touch it."
Spencer combed his fingers through Jon's hair and he didn't stop, either, but continued petting him, soothing Jon's headache. Brendon hugged him again, and Jon felt Ryan's fingers wrap over his bicep, holding them both.
There was food nearby, he could smell it, but even that didn't seem as valuable as staying where he was.
~^~
Eventually, they ate the grilled panini Spencer and Brendon picked up from the Copper Queen Hotel, watching the end of As Good As It Gets. They all agreed that Greg Kinnear deserved a pity fuck. Spencer said he'd do Helen Hunt, even if she was a lesbian - Jon thought it was because she and Ryan had the same body type - but none could understand why anyone ever thought Jack was sexy.
When Nicholson delivered his rant about how some people have happy lives with good times and noodle salad, Jon and Ryan shared a smirk. Ryan pointed at Spencer behind his back and mouthed 'noodle salad'.
"Everything will be okay. It will!" Spencer said firmly when he hugged Jon goodnight.
Ryan gave Jon a hug, too. "See?" he murmured into Jon's ear.
"Noodle Salad," Jon agreed.
Brendon waited for them to leave the room before he darted over and gave Jon a quick kiss. "Get undressed. I'll be right back."
Jon felt too tired and drained, honestly, but he was willing to be convinced.
~^~
Sensing the light-headedness begin from too many rapid, shallow gasps, Jon tried to slow his breathing. He stopped moving, resting his weight fully onto Brendon for a moment, eliciting a groan from beneath him.
The sticky heat between Brendon's back and Jon's chest might have been cause for giggling if the mood had been different. The moment at hand was too desperate, too needy and Jon slid his hand up along the underside of Brendon's ribs and chest and hooked his fingers over Brendon's slick shoulder and pulled down as he pressed his hips forward.
Jon was exhausted when they began, so much that he thought he wouldn't even be able to keep it up, but Brendon proved him wrong. Then he wondered if he was too tired to actually come, but that wasn't the case either. It just felt too good to stop.
Brendon warbled something into the bedsheet, the sound of it causing Jon to pause, opening an eye. "Ow?"
Brendon shook his head. "No. God, wow. Just keep …" He arched back.
Jon pressed forward again, sinking deeper, feeling the press of Brendon's ass against his hips and thighs. "Fuck, Bren. It's like I can't get deep enough."
Brendon turned his head to the side and Jon stretched forward. Unable to kiss properly like this, the wet open-mouth slide of their lips together was all they could manage before Brendon spoke again.
"Keep trying."
~^~
Spencer had been right when he'd said that people bond over the bad stuff, because for as welcoming as the residents of Bisbee had been to Jon when he arrived, it wasn't until he buried a cat and grieved his grandmother with them that he finally felt like he belonged.
He went with Spencer, Ryan, and Brendon down to Mr. Pratt's hot tub after dinner some nights later. Each of them sat with a water jet at their back, heads reclined on the cushioned edge. Every time they came down here, Brendon inevitably slid over to Jon, first one leg hooking over Jon's, his hands finger walking around Jon's waist. Jon had thought at first that maybe there was something in particular about a Jacuzzi that made Brendon horny, but amended that horny just seemed to be his default state.
With his eyes closed, Jon turned his head, letting his mouth soften, giving Brendon the freedom to seek as deep a kiss as he liked.
Brendon let his hands swirl and slide up Jon's torso, running a slow circle around Jon's nipple until a low noise escaped his throat.
"Yeagh! Spen-cer - they're doing it again," Ryan complained.
"It's called passion, asshole." Brendon raised a hand out of the water to flip him off.
"Oh, fuck your passion," Ryan groaned, sounding only half interested. "I'm romantic."
Spencer made a tiny depreciating snort.
"Ha! See?" Brendon said with smug tilt of his head in Spencer's direction, sticking his tongue out.
"You can fuck off, too." Ryan perked up with a comical amount of righteous indignation at Spencer. "We are totally romantic! Did you forget what we did on the patio?"
Spencer scowled and slapped a hand on the water to splash at him. "Shut up."
"Patio? Wait a minute, you didn't tell me about anything on the patio. Me and Jon wanna hear, right?"
Jon was right there with Brendon in spirit, he honestly was, but sadly he made that 'tongue too heavy' 'eghh' which completely betrayed his momentary attempt at a lie.
Spencer narrowed his eyes on Jon. "What?"
He shrugged at Brendon, feeling sheepish. "I'm the worst liar ever," Jon said, dropping his forehead onto Brendon's shoulder.
"Oh, my god, what? Oh, you did not!" Spencer was going to eviscerate him with his murder-death-kill glare while Ryan had that open mouthed, bright eyed look of surprise. "You saw us?"
"You watched?" Ryan was quiet compared to Spencer's outburst.
Jon braced himself and took a deep breath. "I didn't mean to, guys. Really!" He inched behind Brendon's shoulder for some measure of protection. "I was working on the hill that day and it was getting dark and..." He cleared his throat and looked to Brendon who gave him an amused look, like he was enjoying witnessing Jon hang himself. "Okay, yes, I saw, but I didn't watch." Lie. Lie. Lie. "I didn't even tell Brendon about it!"
The three of them were silent, gaping at him and just as Jon was considering drowning himself, he was rescued by Ryan of all people. "Well, how did we look to you?"
Jon boggled for a moment until he grasped what Ryan wanted. "Oh! You looked totally romantic. Totally hot."
"Ha! See?" Ryan challenged Spencer.
Brendon laughed a little too loudly. "Um, so … what exactly did you do on the patio?"
Spencer had crossed his arms over his chest like he was suddenly trying to hide himself. "The patio was very nice," Spencer replied to Ryan. "It was."
"Nice? Ni - I totally sucked you off!" Ryan shouted.
Spencer flushed a bright pink but held his ground. "I'm not denying that, but it was still…Ry, it was just a blowjob."
Spencer's voice was soft and though he was obviously defensive, his intention wasn't cruelty either.
Ryan's jaw dropped, letting out a gasp of frustration, flailing his thin arms, which splashed the water. "What do want from me, fucking poetry?"
"Goddamn it, yes. Okay? You're a writer, Ryan. Of course I want poetry!"
Jon and Brendon huddled together, trying to be as small of possible, watching the back and forth volley.
Ryan fixed his eyes on Spencer and slid through the water, invading his space. "Spence; The stars were coming out one by one and we were making wishes on them, remember? And the jasmine was in full bloom with those little white flowers making the scene was both fucking picturesque and fragrant!" Spencer pursed his lips suppressing a grin but he looked enraptured none-the-less. "And except for the fact that the creepy as fuck next-door neighbor - Peeping Jon over there - was watching us," they glanced at Jon and he ducked his head again, "It was fucking romantic."
Jon and Brendon giggled together, hiding their smiles behind their hands.
"You're right," Spencer conceded, still trying not to laugh and taking Ryan's hand. "No, that was nice. It was. I'm sorry."
Ryan finally relaxed back into his seat next to Spencer but still didn't look mollified yet.
"It's just …" Spencer began again. "We don't have that 'gotta-have-you-now-and-make-you-mine' kind of thing that other people have." He looked at Jon and Brendon, squirming just a little, before he realized he was doing it and then squared his shoulders again. "That's just not us. It's fine. I'm cool with that."
"Oh, that's it. It's on now, pal!" Ryan straightened his legs out and shoved his shorts off. "I am so fucking you right now. Because I just gotta have you now. Have to make you mine, Spence!" Ryan's brand of sarcasm sounded eerily like his sincerity, but when you knew the difference, it was all the more hilarious.
"Ry-an!" Spencer hissed over each syllable with a shocked laugh.
"Whoa!" Jon put a hand in front of his eyes, because while Ryan's hips stayed under the water, the foaming bubbles of the Jacuzzi did little to hide his obvious nudity. "That's a lotta naked Ryan, right there."
Brendon had his hand blocking them from view, while the sounds of splashing as Ryan struggled to get Spencer's shorts off while Spencer's squawked and fought his half-hearted refusal.
"So, ah, hey, Brendon, wanna go to my house?" Jon asked in a loud, false voice.
"Jon, I would love to go to your house! Let's do!" Brendon enthused in his loud radio-announcer voice, and together they climbed out of the hot tub, trying their best to avoid the sight of Ryan wrestling a pair of sopping and twisted shorts from around Spencer's outstretched and kicking ankle.
~^~
Jon kept giggling as they walked. Both were dripping wet, Jon's feet kept slipping in his rubber flip-flops, and he tripped into Brendon. It wasn't until Brendon righted him back onto his feet that he realized anything was off.
"Hey, what's up?"
"Do you think Spencer's hot?" Brendon asked. His voice was light and airy as if he didn't care. As if this was just a casual conversation, but there was a tension to Brendon's jaw and shoulders that spoke otherwise.
Jon had a momentary feeling of having been caught doing something wrong and felt he should deny it. Then he was irritated that the question felt like an accusation and wasn't sure if that was really Brendon's fault or his own.
"Yeah, I guess I do." He bit back the urge to follow it with 'but I'd never …'. He wouldn't dignify the guilt. Still, if this is what they were doing, he had a burning question of his own. "Would you be with Ryan if Spencer wasn't in the way?"
Brendon startled at that and then covered with wry smile. He nodded before he spoke. "Yeah. Yeah, I probably would."
"Fine."
"Fine!"
Jon couldn't quite understand how this had turned into a fight. Or a non-fight, fight. He hated this stuff, but Brendon was clearly pissed, and now, so was he, and he wasn't sure either of them had actually done anything wrong.
They didn't speak the rest of the way home. They'd never gone very long without talking or joking together. Even when they were quiet together, it was a companionable silence.
Brendon's shoulders were beginning to curve inward, he was huffing around the kitchen gathering his things like he was going to leave.
After Jon ran the towel over his head and shoulders, he threw it on the floor of the kitchen, and took Brendon's arm above the elbow. "Look, it's not like that..."
Brendon wouldn't look at him, his face still downcast and angry, but with some reluctance, he let Jon pull him closer to stand in front of him.
"Brendon."
"You saw them and never said anything. Made me think you might be hiding something."
"No. Just that it wasn't something I was meant to see so I didn't gossip."
Brendon frowned so petulantly Jon wanted flick him like his brothers would do to him.
"You're what I want," he said forcefully, holding Brendon's arms. He really meant it, too. There hadn't been a fireworks kind of moment but in a short amount of time, Brendon had kind of invaded his heart and mind and Jon wanted all of it.
You should probably tell him that, Jon realized. And he intended to, at some point. Just doing it right now might seem false.
Brendon's face softened and he raised his eyes, stepping closer. "You're what I want, too."
~^~
They showered separately, and while Brendon sang and whistled as he rinsed the chlorine off, Jon was still feeling unsettled. He wanted his hands on Brendon, to remind himself how real he was, how real they were together. He wasn't sure if their argument now precluded having sex but he was pretty sure it had fueled his desire for it.
Jon had left his laptop on the bed and now Brendon was lying on his stomach, clicking through a project file of architecture photographs.
"These are great. Does Chicago really look this incredible or do your pictures just make it look this good?" Brendon asked, looking over his shoulder. He was still naked from his shower and smirked when he caught Jon looking at his ass. Jon really didn't think he could be blamed for admiring it, not when it was right there.
"Maybe I can show you sometime," Jon answered, climbing over Brendon's legs, breathing the words over his lower back. "Let you decide." He set his teeth against Brendon's right cheek and skimmed the sharp eyetooth along the pale skin.
Brendon carried on at the computer as though Jon wasn't even there. "Who's this?"
Jon pressed up onto hands and knees to look over his shoulder. "That's Tom. You know. Tom. In front of one of the old banks-"
"That's Tom? He's kinda hot."
Jon huffed a quiet laugh, saying nothing, and kissed the back of Brendon's neck.
"You think he's hot, right?" Brendon prodded.
Jon was wary now. "Uh, I guess. He's Tom."
Brendon twisted to look back at him. "He didn't cease to be hot because you stopped sleeping with him."
"I know. Okay. Yes, he's." Jon more or less agreed, but he thought it jerky to say to Brendon. Besides, he was busy here.
"Do you have more? Jon. I want to see more."
Jon took a breath, and mostly because he just wanted to hurry up and return to the subject of Brendon being naked, "…Yeah, here," he navigated to a folder containing snapshots from the university's spring carnival the year before. Tom was flipping him off and he had powdered sugar on his lips from the funnel cake in his hands. Jon had been just a little high and a little too happy and had licked it off of Tom's bottom lip. Tom had got pissed and they'd fought that night.
Jon shrugged off the memory and refocused on Brendon, brushing his palm over Brendon shoulder, into his underarm, not yet sweaty, and down over his ribs.
Brendon wriggled on occasion, like it tickled, but he wriggled towards Jon rather than away. He was still going through Tom's pictures.
"Ooh! Damn - is this him, too?"
Jon opened his eyes and looked up from where he was currently running the tip of his tongue down Brendon's spine.
The photo didn't show Tom's face, but it was a crop of his naked hip and thigh.
"Shit," Jon whispered. "Sorry. I forgot those were in there."
He reached to close the lid but Brendon raised his arm, shouldering Jon's hand away.
"Nuh-uh! I want to see."
"No. Come on."
"Yes." Brendon continued to shove and Jon batted at his hand.
"No," Jon insisted, and the hand batting turned into full on wrestling which sent cats hissing from the room and nearly knocked the MacBook onto the floor.
After a fierce minute, breathless, beginning to sweat, and with stinging pinch marks up his sides, Jon won. He had Brendon pinned, straddled at the hips, wrists pressed near his shoulders. "You fight dirty," Jon accused.
"You know how big I am! A man's gotta do what a man's gotta-"
"All right, all right." Jon gave him a stern look - he assumed it was stern; he'd never actually looked in the mirror when he did it - and closed the laptop.
Brendon made a pouty face. "But I wanna see - it's … sexy."
Jon tugged Brendon's bottom lip between his own and settled onto him, giving him a wide-eyed apologetic look. He did know what his puppy dog eyes looked like. Brendon's mouth curved into a reluctant smile.
"B, if I had pictures of you like that I wouldn't let anyone else look at them either. It's a trust thing, between me and him, you know?"
Brendon looked chastened and opened his mouth. "Oh, but. I wasn't trying to-"
"I know. It's okay."
"Sorry." Brendon tucked his cheek to his shoulder. "Fuck."
"Hey…" Jon kissed along his jaw until he drew Brendon into a kiss. "Forget it."
"… Will you still tell about being with him? Not the breaking trust, not him. But your first time…I want to know."
Jon had slipped into a pair of shorts earlier and Brendon was starting to push at them. Jon lifted his weight to let him and arched his head for Brendon to mouth at his neck.
"Tell me," Brendon whispered. "Tell me, c'mon …"
Brendon might only be starting out, Jon thought, but he would end up with a healthy list of kinks before he was done. He blamed Ryan. All that time talking about his and Spencer's sex life had given Brendon voyeuristic tendencies.
Still, Jon wouldn't, or couldn't, deny him. Words and descriptions came haltingly and his face heated with a blush as he told Brendon about smoking up with Tom as they sat on the floor of his apartment. How Tom had climbed into his lap, taken his hand, and guided him through every touch. He could remember the flavor of Tom's smoky-sweet skin even though he could taste Brendon now. The way it felt to have Tom inside of him while Brendon rolled over so that Jon could do the same.
~^~
Jon wondered if it had been too much. If he'd gone too far or said more than Brendon wanted to hear. He wanted to ask if Brendon was okay but thought that asking might imply that he shouldn't be. Instead, he koala-hugged Brendon's side and waited.
Eventually Brendon blew out a breath. "God, that was fucking awesome!"
~^~
The sky was still pitch black when Jon woke up to pee. Dawn came as early as 4am at this time of summer so it was earlier than that.
Clover squinted at him and barked her cranky meow at him for disturbing the bed.
"Hush, you. You'll wake him," Jon whisper-scolded. It wasn't at all chilly, which told him the day would be hot.
Jon stood in the doorway of the bathroom, looking at how the sheet lie snug showing the line of Brendon's back, curving around his ass. Climbing back into bed, he curled around Brendon who slept in a relatively still position all night long.
He was half gone to sleep again and hadn't even realized he'd got a semi until it was pressed and rising through his shorts against Brendon's bare skin. Always bare skin with Brendon.
Jon didn't think he was really even horny, aside from the usual, but he pressed himself against Brendon, with only the intension of pacifying the thing until later.
Brendon wasn't quite awake, but he wasn't asleep either and let a tiny nasal noise acknowledge Jon's action. Jon wasn't expecting the hand that snaked across his hip and shoved at his shorts.
Jon really meant to say no. Really. But he was half gone to sleep or living a waking a fantasy maybe. He just pressed his stiff cock along the split of Brendon's ass. He didn't expect anything further. They'd had sex earlier in the night, they still were tired, except for Jon's dick, apparently, and he was just enjoying the easy friction of rubbing against him until Brendon shifted, reaching for a bottle of lube and then pressed it into Jon's hand.
Jon hesitated only long enough to sigh but drizzled it into his hand. Reaching forward, he wrapped a hand around Brendon and rubbed some of the excess onto him.
Brendon pushed back at him, in no subtle request and mewled a demanding grunt at him.
"I don't," Jon's voice was heavy from sleep and disuse, and he had to cough and try again. "I'm out of condoms." He kissed Brendon's shoulder. "'M sorry."
"Mmp," was his only vocal reply and he nudged his ass against Jon insistently.
Oh, fuck, they couldn't. They couldn't, Jon thought, even as his baser tendencies were proving that they damn well could, and he was pushing against the moistened gather of soft skin and he wasn't even trying to use fingers. Just the wide, blunt press and withdrawal, press and withdrawal. No hurry. Just feeling the heat and slide without any insistence.
He felt Brendon's pulsing pushes back and his focused relaxation before Jon had properly thought about anything besides Feels Good. Brendon's body gave, greedy and pliant, and the tip of his cock slipped inside. Jon was pushing while biting his lip against the tiny voice that echoed NO. GO BACK. WE DON'T DO THIS! but it was far too late. The ripple of pleasure running up the backs of his thighs was greater than the tiny nagging voice.
Brendon had become more vocal as well. Pushing back and whimpering out grunts and gasps.
Skin against skin, nothing at all between them - it was so good - and so very bad - but really, so fucking good.
They moved together while on their sides, never going very hard or fast. Jon put his hand on Brendon's cock, squeezing and tugging long, slow pulls. Jon was happy to continue the slow mellow of the fuck, but Brendon took himself in hand and tugged, and within seconds, he was coming, tight muscles squeezing around Jon's dick. Jon was already damp under his arms and between his thighs, but Brendon was positively slick with sweat and the strong salt smell of him filled Jon's senses to bursting and that is precisely what he did.
He felt the tightening in his balls and then remembered. He pulled out as he was already half through, dotting Brendon's ass with hot, thick stripes.
After a few moments of dazed bliss, the pangs of guilt and alarm sunk in. He shook himself from his quiet laced stupor and went to the bathroom, running two washcloths under warm water. He reminded himself that neither had ever been so irresponsible with anyone else. They should be fine.
They didn’t speak at all while Jon wiped away his come from Brendon's body, being just as tender with the intimacy of it as he had when they began. You had to have a practical and fond humor about the messes made between two men.
Brendon chuckled into the pillow before raising his head to look at Jon over his shoulder. "You don’t need to do that. … Weirdo."
Jon smiled, though the room was still dark and Brendon couldn't see it.
"I was taught to clean up after myself."
Brendon laughed. "Yeah, well, it won't keep you from having to do laundry. The sheets are wrecked now."
Jon tossed the dirty washcloths into the bathroom so they'd land on the tile rather than wood floor, and then lay back.
Brendon immediately made himself into a human blanket over Jon's chest.
"I'm going to sleep on you now," Brendon informed him, his voice small and sleepy already.
"Yeah? Okay."
"I'm probably going to drool on you, too."
"I can handle it." His hand settled on the small of Brendon's back and he followed the impulse to curve over Brendon's ample butt cheek, ghosting a fingertip along the crack of his ass. "You okay, Bren?" The squeeze of his hand and tease of his fingers clearly communicated that he was inquiring after more than just if Brendon was sore.
Brendon turned his head and kissed Jon's collarbone. "It's okay, Jonny. … 's okay"
~^~
"You're kidding me with this, right?" Jon said, reading the flyer for the 'Leather and Lace Street Party' as a part of Bisbee's Pride Week.
Jon had gone to Pride events on campus before, but those had always carried the vibe of youthful rebellion and in-your-face shock therapy, just daring the world to defy them. The community here felt more like a lazy backyard BBQ, only maybe with slightly more tie-dye and lap dogs.
"I thought we could go through Olivia's closets, she's got a ton of old things I bet we could wear," Brendon said, looking to Jon for approval.
"Yeah, sure. But."
"I already know what I'm wearing," Ryan said, eyes downcast.
Spencer issued a quiet snort, piquing Jon's interest. "What is it then? Leather or lace?"
Ryan shrugged. "Yeah."
"Ho - you sexy thang, Ross!" Brendon laughed, shouldering up closer to him. "Show me - I have to see this immediately." Brendon pushed and nudged him to his feet.
Ryan rolled his eyes, giving in. "Fine. We'll be right back."
"Leather and Lace," Spencer said, shaking his head. "I'm pretty sure there's nothing in Olivia's closet that will work for me."
"I don't know, there's some crazy stuff up there. C'mon." Jon led them upstairs.
"Hey, so … are you sticking around here?" Spencer asked, lowering his voice as if someone else might hear them.
"Here, as in, in town? Yeah. I guess I want to stay. I think I'll live here for awhile."
"That's great! Only …"
Jon cocked his head and Spencer rubbed at his nose, stalling. "What is it?"
"Um, okay, it's just - are you only staying here because of Brendon? I think that's fine, but you know he wants to go to school, right? Hair dresser school - whatever it's called."
"I know. But he'd be back."
"Yeah, he would. And you'll wait?"
Jon shrugged, tucking a foot underneath him as he sat on the bed.
They could hear Brendon and Ryan coming up the stairs and shared a smile, breaking off conversation. "So, how about this?" Spencer asked, pulling a 70's sequined gown from the closet and held it in front of him. He sucked in his cheeks and puckered his lips just as Brendon and Ryan entered the room.
"Oh, yes!" Brendon agreed. "You should totally go in drag!"
Ryan flung himself in a chair and crossed his arms.
"What do you, think, Ry?" Spencer repeated his pretty lady pose but got no reaction from Ryan at all. "What's up with you?"
Brendon started thumbing through things in the closet behind Spencer. "Ryan can't hear you over the sound of his own self-righteousness right now."
"Hey," Spencer said softly, frowning between them.
"I can hear with perfect clarity that you are an idiot."
"Guys …" Jon coaxed. He was used to them bickering but they'd really dialed up the bitchiness here.
"And I'm including you in that," Ryan added with a glance at Jon, though it was barely audible.
"Whoa, what'd I do?" Jon asked.
"Don't ask." Brendon waved his hand.
"You should be grown men but apparently you're just horny, irresponsible teenagers."
"Ryan, what the fuck?" Spencer went over and kicked at Ryan's foot where he'd crossed it over his leg.
But Jon knew. At the word 'irresponsible', he knew that Brendon had told Ryan about that early morning several days earlier when they just couldn't stop in spite of not having any condoms. "Jesus …" he muttered, rubbing his neck and tugging his hair in frustration.
"I don't see where you get off being uptight about this," Brendon countered to Ryan. "You guys do it."
"Oh." Spencer had just caught on, too, and looked away avoiding eye contact with everyone in the room.
"It's not a competition, Brendon," Ryan snapped.
"Christ, Ryan." Spencer rolled his eyes, muttering and rubbing his eyes. "You didn't complain when Jon came in his mouth."
Jon couldn't help it, he actually snorted. It was too stupid that anyone was arguing about his sex life.
Ryan looked at Spencer like he was a traitor. "You know there's a difference. You work in the medical field."
Spencer laughed. "In the veterinary field! Oh, my god!" Spencer sat on the bed next to Jon.
"Ross, you're such a hypocrite," Brendon accused, still going through clothes like he wasn't interested.
"Spencer and I are in - we're committed. You don't even know how Jon feels."
"Hey - is that what this is about?" Jon sat up. He wondered if Brendon had told Ryan that they'd only exchanged blowjobs since then as some sort of self-imposed punishment. And they'd bought more condoms. "You think I don't love him?"
Ryan shrugged and rolled his eyes at the wall.
Jon thought he should be pissed off at Ryan, or at Brendon for telling Ryan fucking everything, but he'd accepted that part of Brendon and Ryan's relationship already. And he wasn't ashamed of anything he and Brendon had done together. Even the stupid things. "Is that what you think, Bren? That I don't…?"
Brendon gave Ryan one last exasperated look, pushed up his glasses, and then met Jon's eyes. "I wasn't asking for that from you."
"Yeah, I get that." Jon stood and leaned against Brendon, who bent his head to him and Jon was reminded that he was just a little bit shorter. He glanced over at Ryan and Spencer - were they seriously going to be a part of everything? "What I don't get is why you told Ryan? Why that?"
Brendon shrugged.
"Okay, you know what? We're leaving," Spencer announced, standing up and tugging on Ryan's arm.
"But-" Ryan started to protest.
"Don't even." He pointed a finger at Ryan. "You two, we'll see you tonight."
Brendon had his head bowed against Jon's shoulder and they were all giggling.
"Sorry," Brendon said when they were gone. "I shouldn't have said anything. I didn't think he'd be such a bitch about it. I just wanted to tell him that we were …"
Jon waited. "What? That we were what?"
Brendon started to fidget and wiggle. "They're like, the perfect couple, right? I want to be a part of something like that."
Jon let Brendon squirm free of his embrace and turn back to the closet, grumbling, "stupid," to himself. Jon tried to connect the dots between their respective sex lives and being the perfect couple.
"Let me get this right; did you think that doing it without a rubber was like, a sign of trust or something? Because, man, that was just being lazy." Brendon went still then, hugging his arms around himself. Jon felt frustration clawing at him, everything he said seemed to make Brendon feel worse. "And thing is, you're still so young." Brendon huffed and rolled his head, taking offense. "No, I just mean..." Jon went to him and made him look at him again. "I just mean that I know you want to go to school and that you might want to see other people and I don't want to assume."
"I don't. I just want to see you. Lots of you, Jon. Everyday."
"I love you." There. Honest. Simple. And for once, it was not completely random. Jon put his fingers over Brendon's lips. "And that's a gift. You don't have to return that."
Brendon nodded, and Jon slid his hands along Brendon's jaw and leaned up to kiss him. Brendon overwhelmed him with kisses, pushing Jon backwards until they flopped onto the bed. When they did, several quarters spilled out of the pocket of his jeans.
The jingling halted Brendon as he climbed on top of Jon. "What's all this?"
"Oh, uh. They're for you."
Brendon gave him a funny look and Jon shrugged. "You're always collecting them for laundry, so..."
Brendon's mouth opened slightly and he sat up, sitting over top of Jon. "You noticed and - for me?"
Jon reached up and twisted a bit of his hair, pulling a little. "They're just quarters."
"They're… Jon. You're - I love you!"
Jon laughed, finding himself smothered with a kiss. He closed his eyes while Brendon continued to kiss his face, running fingers through his hair and beard. He wondered for a moment, if his grandma had known it would be like this when she had intertwined their lives. And in spite of all the money she had left for Jon, it was simple pocket change that finally earned Brendon's heart.
~^~
~^~
I would be so appreciative to receive your feedback and comments! Thank you for reading!
Back to Header and Author's Notes
Part 6
Part 5
~^~
The day started with Big Plans about cleaning the house and doing laundry because, while Jon didn't think he was slob and he didn't have that much stuff, after a few weeks of really not doing anything besides dishes, the place was kind of gross. The washer and dryer were in the enclosed back porch, which made for a lot of up and down the stairs doing laundry. He was thinking about how Bill and Mike would pay him to put their folded clothes away when he was a kid and once again lamented his adulthood.
Richard III trotted under his feet and nearly tripped him, giving Jon his loud barking meow as if Jon had got in his way.
"One of these days, kitty-cat," Jon warned as he recovered from his near fall. "You and me, we're gonna throw down. All out, too, claws and teeth, dude. It's gonna be messy."
Richard III just walked away, showing Jon his furry little butt in response.
When he returned downstairs with a load of bath towels to wash, the cat ran under his feet again.
"Okay, what? You ignore me for weeks and now you're trying to kill me?"
The cat blinked at him.
"Are you out of water or something? Wanna play?" Jon bent down and tried to pet him, but he just looked at Jon and pushed through the kitty door.
Jon just shook his head and finished his work. It wasn't until he took the trash out the front door that he found Richard III, Clover, and Garfunkle all sitting near the front steps like they'd been waiting for him. He saw with a glance that Dylan was lying in his usual place under the potted ivy but then Jon gave a double take.
He wasn't stretched out in his usual feline leisure but looked slightly deflated.
"Hey, pretty kitty," Jon said gently, clucking little kissy sounds as he approached. Dylan had lost control of his bladder where he lay and hadn't moved at all. He was unnaturally still except for the rapid rise and fall of his rib cage. He half opened his eyes and made a silent mew at Jon before closing his eyes again. "Oh, no, kitty-kitty. What's wrong?" Jon patted his head carefully but was afraid to touch too much in case it hurt. "Dylan, sweetie? Hang on, okay?"
He went back in the house, grabbing a towel from the basket and his phone. He was abruptly regretting being a grown up in a way far more serious than for having to do laundry.
Brendon had put the number in his phone, but Jon had never called it before.
"Jon?" Ryan answered.
"Hey. Hi. Um, one of my cats is, he's sick or something and. Are you busy?"
"I'll be right there."
By the time Jon had Dylan wrapped in a towel and clutched in his arms, Ryan was there. "Where're your keys? I'll drive."
~^~
"Sorry, sorry. It's been a while since I drove a stick," Ryan muttered, as the transmission groaned when Ryan downshifted. Jon and Ryan exchanged looks but they shrugged off the obligatory driving-a-stick joke in light of the situation.
Ryan called Spencer on the way to the clinic so that when they arrived, they were taken straight into an examining room. It was odd seeing Spencer being all professional at work. Jon stared at the pattern on Spencer's scrub top - little footprint trails of different kinds of animals - while he answered what questions he could. He felt like the worst caretaker ever, because his answers were vague. All the cats ate and drank from the same bowls - they never went empty, he was sure of that - but he couldn't say for sure if Dylan had been eating or drinking any less. He was an old cat and didn't play like the others, so Jon hadn't noticed if his energy level had dropped recently.
"I'm sorry," he said, as much to Dylan as to Spencer.
"That's all right. I'd like you to sit with Ryan in the waiting area for a little while. I'm going to run an IV because he's dehydrated and draw some blood so we can run a few tests and after Dr. Cohen examines Dylan, he'll talk to you. Okay?"
Jon was thinking through all of that, worrying about any of that hurting Dylan, when Ryan put a hand high on Jon's arm. "What? Oh. Right, okay. Thanks, Spence."
~^~
For something that only took a little while to explain, the process took much longer. Jon and Ryan sat in the waiting room, flipping through magazines, while cats and dogs and even a pair of rabbits came and went all afternoon.
After hours, possibly hundreds and hundreds of hours, Jon thought, Spencer came for him. Ryan hung back a little, unsure, but Jon pulled him along.
The Veterinarian was holding Dylan, actually cradling the sick cat, while being mindful of the little IV line, in his arms. Jon was immediately impressed.
"Jon, this Dr. Cohen," Spencer introduced them. "Doctor, this is Jon Walker, he belongs to Dylan." Spencer had spoken highly of the man he worked for before and Jon could see the professional admiration on his face now.
"Have a seat, would you please?" The man had a nice smile and he ran a delicate finger back and forth between Dylan's ears as he spoke. "What we've got here, young man, is a very sick kitty, I'm sorry to say."
Jon sat down and did all the things one is supposed to when they have intelligent, adult to adult, Very Serious Conversations; he maintained eye contact and made polite noises of acknowledgement at appropriate intervals but he would have bet all of his inheritance that the man speaking was a grown-up character from the Peanuts. All he heard was 'wuah-wuah-wa-wa-wah'. Spencer interpreted and Jon comprehended a little bit more the second time around.
"I'll excuse you to think it over for a bit," Dr. Cohen said, carefully lying Dylan on the table. "If you wish to talk with me again, just let Spencer know. And I'm so sorry."
Jon laid his cheek on the paper lining of the examining table, with his face right up next to the cat's. Dylan opened his mouth and made a tiny noise, not quite a meow, and flexed his paw against Jon's nose before lying still again.
"So …" Jon asked Spencer, remaining where he was. "We could try the drugs for the one thing?"
"It's kind of like chemotherapy," Spencer said patiently because he was repeating himself now.
"And he wouldn't be able to go outside or be around the other cats and all that other stuff you said."
"That's right."
"And even if it worked, his heart isn't very strong anyway."
Jon heard Spencer shift around and Ryan move towards him, but Jon kept his gaze on Dylan as he pressed a fingertip to Dylan's paw, the little pink pads gripping him for a moment.
"Jon, I'm so sorry. I feel responsible here. I've been around him so much, I was just petting him the other day, I should have noticed."
"It's not your fault, Spence. Not at all."
"Um, excuse me," Ryan interrupted quietly. Jon raised his head then. "I'm gonna, just…" Without any further explanation, Ryan shuffled out of the room avoiding Jon's eyes.
Spencer looked as surprised as Jon and almost ashamed. "Uh, Ryan gets kinda creeped out by medical stuff. He doesn't mean anything by it."
"Yeah." Whatever. Jon thought he and Ryan had got to some kind of understanding but if he couldn't deal, then what the fuck ever. "I'm just gonna sit and talk to Dylan for a little while. If that's okay?"
"Totally. I have another patient waiting, but I'll be back." Spencer patted Jon on the shoulder as he left.
Jon put his chin on the table so that he was nose to nose with Dylan again, watching his breathing and trying to feel the exhale on his skin.
"I'm so sorry, sweetie."
That was all he could think of to say for the longest time.
"Sorry Gram isn't here and you're stuck with me." Dylan didn't seem to mind. "I guess this is the sort of thing that she had to decide for herself, right? I'll bet she talked to you about it." Jon continued to pet him carefully. "She knew what she wanted when she got sick. She just …" He remembered the file from the Hospice facility that Patrick had given him. He hadn't ever read the details.
~^~
The decision once made happened pretty quickly. There was paperwork to sign and more talking with the Vet and then Spencer led Jon and Dylan into a different room, one with more comfortable chairs.
Jon startled when the door opened again, thinking it was time, and was filled with relief when it turned out to be Brendon with Ryan trailing behind.
Jon had thought about Brendon throughout the day but kept returning to the feeling that Brendon was a luxury, like a privilege that Jon should have to do without. Like maybe he shouldn't be allowed to have anything that made him feel good when he was making life or death decisions. When his Grandma couldn't be the one doing it.
Except that when he grasped Brendon, felt him trembling against Jon's chest and whispered his apologies into Jon's ear, Jon realized how stupid that was. He didn't just want Brendon, he needed him a little, too.
Ryan was doing his best to blend into the wall, but Jon mouthed a silent 'thank you' to him and Ryan nodded, suppressing a timid smile. Jon took back every grumpy thought he'd ever aimed at Ryan Ross.
He'd brought him Brendon.
~^~
It happened quickly. It was scary and it was awful.
Brendon sang to Dylan for a few seconds and then whispered things that broke Jon's heart to hear. "Thanks for keeping me company when I was living with you, baby-kitty. You made me feel not so sad and alone."
Brendon meant to stay with them but he was upset enough that Ryan took him out to the waiting room.
Spencer sat next to Jon while the doctor administered the medication.
Dylan opened his eyes and looked at Jon one more time before he lay his head in Jon's palm and took his last breath.
~^~
Jon felt deeply sorry; sorry for Spencer because he felt so guilty and for Brendon who couldn't bear to lose anything else in his life. Sorry for the other cats at home who wouldn't understand, and sorry for Dylan. He acknowledged all of it intellectually as a very sad thing, but Jon still only felt a pragmatic connection to it all.
Brendon offered to drive him home, but there was no need. Ryan and Brendon offered to help him dig a burial place but there was only one shovel, so he did it himself. Spencer brought Dylan home in a discreet box and the four of them buried him under a mesquite tree high on the hill. Jon squeezed Brendon's hand when he sniffled, wiping his nose on his wrist, giving him a reassuring smile.
"Thanks for sticking around, guys. For everything. Sorry you missed classes, Ryan. I'm just gonna take a shower." He shrugged. "Have a few beers later. Whatever."
He didn't say anything about the curious looks they exchanged when they thought he wasn't looking. He wasn't sure what they wanted him to do.
Jon stayed under the hot water until it ran cold and then he dressed in his baggiest sweat pants and old, faded Guns N' Roses t-shirt. It was fully dark outside by then and the tiny lamp by the bed gave the room that warm, red glow that all of his memories of his Grandma were bathed in. The humidity from the shower had brought out the scent of lemon oil rubbed into the wood furniture and downstairs, the sound of Brendon's voice as he talked silliness to the cats triggered all of his senses to a sharp point. Jon gasped a breath as two months of denied grief hit him all at once.
"Oh, god," Jon whispered as he sat on the side of the bed. "Shit." She was really gone. His Grandma was never coming back to this house and it didn't matter if Jon sold it or burned it to the ground. It was all his now, because she was gone.
He felt a blow to his chest and remembered that heartache wasn't just a metaphor, that it actually, physically, hurt.
"Hey, I wondering if you wanted-?" Brendon came around the corner and stopped.
Jon held up a hand like he just needed a second and he'd be fine, but the breath he took resulted in a gulping hiccup. It was embarrassing and he felt the tears on his cheeks as his face heated.
"Jon?"
"I don't know. Fuck. It's not even Dylan. I mean it's …" Jon's throat stuck, and he pressed his palms to eyes.
"I know." Brendon climbed onto the bed and pulled Jon down with him into a hug. "I know who it's for. I'm so sorry."
It was nothing like hysterical sobbing, he hadn't cried like that since he was ten, but the silent stream of tears continued, getting Brendon's shirt-front wet. The sadness in him felt heavy but every breath seemed to let a little more of it out until the hurt and tears were replaced with utter exhaustion. Jon wrapped an arm around Brendon, feeling his back warm and solid under his hand, and at some point, Jon fell asleep.
In the midst of his stupor, he felt the bed dip and roll and thought Brendon was trying to go, but Jon shifted closer and lay his head on him.
~^~
Jon's psyche might have held hope for a grief-induced starvation, but Jon's stomach disagreed entirely. He hadn't eaten since breakfast and it felt like the acid was going to burn right through him.
He blinked his eyes open, vaguely recognized the sound of Jack Nicholson's voice from the TV on the dresser and opened his jaw to scratch his beard on Brendon's thigh - when he realized that it wasn't Brendon's thigh at all.
"Ryan?"
"Yeah?" came a quiet voice above him.
"Uh, sorry. What-?" Jon tried to sit up only to find he had a wicked crying-headache and his neck was stiff. "Ah, fuck it," he gave up and slumped back down to lay on Ryan's lap.
"Brendon and Spence went to get food. Brendon didn't want to go, he wanted to stay with you, but he looked like he needed to get out of the house."
"Okay," Jon sighed. He was feeling pretty small and sheepish anyway. Ryan's comfort would do.
"Brendon said to…" Ryan said after a momentary pause.
"Yeah?"
Ryan cleared his throat and put his hand over Jon's shoulder in a kind of hug. It's exactly what Brendon would have done if he were there. Jon laughed and his neck ached when he shook.
"Ow. You're kinda bony, Ross, anyone ever tell you that?" Jon shifted and finally glanced up at him.
Ryan looked at him with a completely straight face and said, "No. Never."
Jon chuckled, pulling a pillow over Ryan's legs and lay his head down again. He felt like crap and he'd been very grown up today and was going to be a baby for a little while. Clover jumped up and stared at Jon with dark eyes from the end of the bed.
"Hey there," Jon called, making scratchy fingers in the air. "C'mere, it's okay."
Clover curled up in the angle made by Ryan's legs and Jon's chest while Jon pet him. He was not going to cry again, he was sure, but a lingering wave of sadness creeping under his skin made him blow out a slow, shaky breath.
Ryan tightened his grip on Jon's shoulder a tiny bit. "They're going to keep telling you everything is okay," Ryan said, during a commercial break.
"Who?"
"Spencer and Brendon. Other people, too, I guess, and they mean well, because they don't want you to be depressed, so they'll keep telling you 'it's okay,' like maybe you'll just forget to be sad."
"… Yeah?"
"Hm. They don't understand. They care and they want you to be happy. But sometimes you're just sad and it sucks. That's okay, too."
It was possibly the most depressing pep talk Jon had ever been given, but considering the source, Jon appreciated it all the more.
"Thanks."
With a headache beating in Jon's temples, he fell asleep again but woke later when he felt Brendon's body, always hot to the touch, spoon up behind him, pillowing his head in Ryan's lap, too.
"Hey, you, brought food," he murmured to Jon, kissing behind his ear and squeezing him around the chest.
Jon hummed his approval but didn't move or open his eyes.
"Who smells so good?" Spencer asked, as the bed moved when he sat on the other side of Ryan.
"Jon. Jon's hair." Brendon nuzzled him again to demonstrate. "He always smells good. It's soft, too! Touch it."
Spencer combed his fingers through Jon's hair and he didn't stop, either, but continued petting him, soothing Jon's headache. Brendon hugged him again, and Jon felt Ryan's fingers wrap over his bicep, holding them both.
There was food nearby, he could smell it, but even that didn't seem as valuable as staying where he was.
~^~
Eventually, they ate the grilled panini Spencer and Brendon picked up from the Copper Queen Hotel, watching the end of As Good As It Gets. They all agreed that Greg Kinnear deserved a pity fuck. Spencer said he'd do Helen Hunt, even if she was a lesbian - Jon thought it was because she and Ryan had the same body type - but none could understand why anyone ever thought Jack was sexy.
When Nicholson delivered his rant about how some people have happy lives with good times and noodle salad, Jon and Ryan shared a smirk. Ryan pointed at Spencer behind his back and mouthed 'noodle salad'.
"Everything will be okay. It will!" Spencer said firmly when he hugged Jon goodnight.
Ryan gave Jon a hug, too. "See?" he murmured into Jon's ear.
"Noodle Salad," Jon agreed.
Brendon waited for them to leave the room before he darted over and gave Jon a quick kiss. "Get undressed. I'll be right back."
Jon felt too tired and drained, honestly, but he was willing to be convinced.
~^~
Sensing the light-headedness begin from too many rapid, shallow gasps, Jon tried to slow his breathing. He stopped moving, resting his weight fully onto Brendon for a moment, eliciting a groan from beneath him.
The sticky heat between Brendon's back and Jon's chest might have been cause for giggling if the mood had been different. The moment at hand was too desperate, too needy and Jon slid his hand up along the underside of Brendon's ribs and chest and hooked his fingers over Brendon's slick shoulder and pulled down as he pressed his hips forward.
Jon was exhausted when they began, so much that he thought he wouldn't even be able to keep it up, but Brendon proved him wrong. Then he wondered if he was too tired to actually come, but that wasn't the case either. It just felt too good to stop.
Brendon warbled something into the bedsheet, the sound of it causing Jon to pause, opening an eye. "Ow?"
Brendon shook his head. "No. God, wow. Just keep …" He arched back.
Jon pressed forward again, sinking deeper, feeling the press of Brendon's ass against his hips and thighs. "Fuck, Bren. It's like I can't get deep enough."
Brendon turned his head to the side and Jon stretched forward. Unable to kiss properly like this, the wet open-mouth slide of their lips together was all they could manage before Brendon spoke again.
"Keep trying."
~^~
Spencer had been right when he'd said that people bond over the bad stuff, because for as welcoming as the residents of Bisbee had been to Jon when he arrived, it wasn't until he buried a cat and grieved his grandmother with them that he finally felt like he belonged.
He went with Spencer, Ryan, and Brendon down to Mr. Pratt's hot tub after dinner some nights later. Each of them sat with a water jet at their back, heads reclined on the cushioned edge. Every time they came down here, Brendon inevitably slid over to Jon, first one leg hooking over Jon's, his hands finger walking around Jon's waist. Jon had thought at first that maybe there was something in particular about a Jacuzzi that made Brendon horny, but amended that horny just seemed to be his default state.
With his eyes closed, Jon turned his head, letting his mouth soften, giving Brendon the freedom to seek as deep a kiss as he liked.
Brendon let his hands swirl and slide up Jon's torso, running a slow circle around Jon's nipple until a low noise escaped his throat.
"Yeagh! Spen-cer - they're doing it again," Ryan complained.
"It's called passion, asshole." Brendon raised a hand out of the water to flip him off.
"Oh, fuck your passion," Ryan groaned, sounding only half interested. "I'm romantic."
Spencer made a tiny depreciating snort.
"Ha! See?" Brendon said with smug tilt of his head in Spencer's direction, sticking his tongue out.
"You can fuck off, too." Ryan perked up with a comical amount of righteous indignation at Spencer. "We are totally romantic! Did you forget what we did on the patio?"
Spencer scowled and slapped a hand on the water to splash at him. "Shut up."
"Patio? Wait a minute, you didn't tell me about anything on the patio. Me and Jon wanna hear, right?"
Jon was right there with Brendon in spirit, he honestly was, but sadly he made that 'tongue too heavy' 'eghh' which completely betrayed his momentary attempt at a lie.
Spencer narrowed his eyes on Jon. "What?"
He shrugged at Brendon, feeling sheepish. "I'm the worst liar ever," Jon said, dropping his forehead onto Brendon's shoulder.
"Oh, my god, what? Oh, you did not!" Spencer was going to eviscerate him with his murder-death-kill glare while Ryan had that open mouthed, bright eyed look of surprise. "You saw us?"
"You watched?" Ryan was quiet compared to Spencer's outburst.
Jon braced himself and took a deep breath. "I didn't mean to, guys. Really!" He inched behind Brendon's shoulder for some measure of protection. "I was working on the hill that day and it was getting dark and..." He cleared his throat and looked to Brendon who gave him an amused look, like he was enjoying witnessing Jon hang himself. "Okay, yes, I saw, but I didn't watch." Lie. Lie. Lie. "I didn't even tell Brendon about it!"
The three of them were silent, gaping at him and just as Jon was considering drowning himself, he was rescued by Ryan of all people. "Well, how did we look to you?"
Jon boggled for a moment until he grasped what Ryan wanted. "Oh! You looked totally romantic. Totally hot."
"Ha! See?" Ryan challenged Spencer.
Brendon laughed a little too loudly. "Um, so … what exactly did you do on the patio?"
Spencer had crossed his arms over his chest like he was suddenly trying to hide himself. "The patio was very nice," Spencer replied to Ryan. "It was."
"Nice? Ni - I totally sucked you off!" Ryan shouted.
Spencer flushed a bright pink but held his ground. "I'm not denying that, but it was still…Ry, it was just a blowjob."
Spencer's voice was soft and though he was obviously defensive, his intention wasn't cruelty either.
Ryan's jaw dropped, letting out a gasp of frustration, flailing his thin arms, which splashed the water. "What do want from me, fucking poetry?"
"Goddamn it, yes. Okay? You're a writer, Ryan. Of course I want poetry!"
Jon and Brendon huddled together, trying to be as small of possible, watching the back and forth volley.
Ryan fixed his eyes on Spencer and slid through the water, invading his space. "Spence; The stars were coming out one by one and we were making wishes on them, remember? And the jasmine was in full bloom with those little white flowers making the scene was both fucking picturesque and fragrant!" Spencer pursed his lips suppressing a grin but he looked enraptured none-the-less. "And except for the fact that the creepy as fuck next-door neighbor - Peeping Jon over there - was watching us," they glanced at Jon and he ducked his head again, "It was fucking romantic."
Jon and Brendon giggled together, hiding their smiles behind their hands.
"You're right," Spencer conceded, still trying not to laugh and taking Ryan's hand. "No, that was nice. It was. I'm sorry."
Ryan finally relaxed back into his seat next to Spencer but still didn't look mollified yet.
"It's just …" Spencer began again. "We don't have that 'gotta-have-you-now-and-make-you-mine' kind of thing that other people have." He looked at Jon and Brendon, squirming just a little, before he realized he was doing it and then squared his shoulders again. "That's just not us. It's fine. I'm cool with that."
"Oh, that's it. It's on now, pal!" Ryan straightened his legs out and shoved his shorts off. "I am so fucking you right now. Because I just gotta have you now. Have to make you mine, Spence!" Ryan's brand of sarcasm sounded eerily like his sincerity, but when you knew the difference, it was all the more hilarious.
"Ry-an!" Spencer hissed over each syllable with a shocked laugh.
"Whoa!" Jon put a hand in front of his eyes, because while Ryan's hips stayed under the water, the foaming bubbles of the Jacuzzi did little to hide his obvious nudity. "That's a lotta naked Ryan, right there."
Brendon had his hand blocking them from view, while the sounds of splashing as Ryan struggled to get Spencer's shorts off while Spencer's squawked and fought his half-hearted refusal.
"So, ah, hey, Brendon, wanna go to my house?" Jon asked in a loud, false voice.
"Jon, I would love to go to your house! Let's do!" Brendon enthused in his loud radio-announcer voice, and together they climbed out of the hot tub, trying their best to avoid the sight of Ryan wrestling a pair of sopping and twisted shorts from around Spencer's outstretched and kicking ankle.
~^~
Jon kept giggling as they walked. Both were dripping wet, Jon's feet kept slipping in his rubber flip-flops, and he tripped into Brendon. It wasn't until Brendon righted him back onto his feet that he realized anything was off.
"Hey, what's up?"
"Do you think Spencer's hot?" Brendon asked. His voice was light and airy as if he didn't care. As if this was just a casual conversation, but there was a tension to Brendon's jaw and shoulders that spoke otherwise.
Jon had a momentary feeling of having been caught doing something wrong and felt he should deny it. Then he was irritated that the question felt like an accusation and wasn't sure if that was really Brendon's fault or his own.
"Yeah, I guess I do." He bit back the urge to follow it with 'but I'd never …'. He wouldn't dignify the guilt. Still, if this is what they were doing, he had a burning question of his own. "Would you be with Ryan if Spencer wasn't in the way?"
Brendon startled at that and then covered with wry smile. He nodded before he spoke. "Yeah. Yeah, I probably would."
"Fine."
"Fine!"
Jon couldn't quite understand how this had turned into a fight. Or a non-fight, fight. He hated this stuff, but Brendon was clearly pissed, and now, so was he, and he wasn't sure either of them had actually done anything wrong.
They didn't speak the rest of the way home. They'd never gone very long without talking or joking together. Even when they were quiet together, it was a companionable silence.
Brendon's shoulders were beginning to curve inward, he was huffing around the kitchen gathering his things like he was going to leave.
After Jon ran the towel over his head and shoulders, he threw it on the floor of the kitchen, and took Brendon's arm above the elbow. "Look, it's not like that..."
Brendon wouldn't look at him, his face still downcast and angry, but with some reluctance, he let Jon pull him closer to stand in front of him.
"Brendon."
"You saw them and never said anything. Made me think you might be hiding something."
"No. Just that it wasn't something I was meant to see so I didn't gossip."
Brendon frowned so petulantly Jon wanted flick him like his brothers would do to him.
"You're what I want," he said forcefully, holding Brendon's arms. He really meant it, too. There hadn't been a fireworks kind of moment but in a short amount of time, Brendon had kind of invaded his heart and mind and Jon wanted all of it.
You should probably tell him that, Jon realized. And he intended to, at some point. Just doing it right now might seem false.
Brendon's face softened and he raised his eyes, stepping closer. "You're what I want, too."
~^~
They showered separately, and while Brendon sang and whistled as he rinsed the chlorine off, Jon was still feeling unsettled. He wanted his hands on Brendon, to remind himself how real he was, how real they were together. He wasn't sure if their argument now precluded having sex but he was pretty sure it had fueled his desire for it.
Jon had left his laptop on the bed and now Brendon was lying on his stomach, clicking through a project file of architecture photographs.
"These are great. Does Chicago really look this incredible or do your pictures just make it look this good?" Brendon asked, looking over his shoulder. He was still naked from his shower and smirked when he caught Jon looking at his ass. Jon really didn't think he could be blamed for admiring it, not when it was right there.
"Maybe I can show you sometime," Jon answered, climbing over Brendon's legs, breathing the words over his lower back. "Let you decide." He set his teeth against Brendon's right cheek and skimmed the sharp eyetooth along the pale skin.
Brendon carried on at the computer as though Jon wasn't even there. "Who's this?"
Jon pressed up onto hands and knees to look over his shoulder. "That's Tom. You know. Tom. In front of one of the old banks-"
"That's Tom? He's kinda hot."
Jon huffed a quiet laugh, saying nothing, and kissed the back of Brendon's neck.
"You think he's hot, right?" Brendon prodded.
Jon was wary now. "Uh, I guess. He's Tom."
Brendon twisted to look back at him. "He didn't cease to be hot because you stopped sleeping with him."
"I know. Okay. Yes, he's." Jon more or less agreed, but he thought it jerky to say to Brendon. Besides, he was busy here.
"Do you have more? Jon. I want to see more."
Jon took a breath, and mostly because he just wanted to hurry up and return to the subject of Brendon being naked, "…Yeah, here," he navigated to a folder containing snapshots from the university's spring carnival the year before. Tom was flipping him off and he had powdered sugar on his lips from the funnel cake in his hands. Jon had been just a little high and a little too happy and had licked it off of Tom's bottom lip. Tom had got pissed and they'd fought that night.
Jon shrugged off the memory and refocused on Brendon, brushing his palm over Brendon shoulder, into his underarm, not yet sweaty, and down over his ribs.
Brendon wriggled on occasion, like it tickled, but he wriggled towards Jon rather than away. He was still going through Tom's pictures.
"Ooh! Damn - is this him, too?"
Jon opened his eyes and looked up from where he was currently running the tip of his tongue down Brendon's spine.
The photo didn't show Tom's face, but it was a crop of his naked hip and thigh.
"Shit," Jon whispered. "Sorry. I forgot those were in there."
He reached to close the lid but Brendon raised his arm, shouldering Jon's hand away.
"Nuh-uh! I want to see."
"No. Come on."
"Yes." Brendon continued to shove and Jon batted at his hand.
"No," Jon insisted, and the hand batting turned into full on wrestling which sent cats hissing from the room and nearly knocked the MacBook onto the floor.
After a fierce minute, breathless, beginning to sweat, and with stinging pinch marks up his sides, Jon won. He had Brendon pinned, straddled at the hips, wrists pressed near his shoulders. "You fight dirty," Jon accused.
"You know how big I am! A man's gotta do what a man's gotta-"
"All right, all right." Jon gave him a stern look - he assumed it was stern; he'd never actually looked in the mirror when he did it - and closed the laptop.
Brendon made a pouty face. "But I wanna see - it's … sexy."
Jon tugged Brendon's bottom lip between his own and settled onto him, giving him a wide-eyed apologetic look. He did know what his puppy dog eyes looked like. Brendon's mouth curved into a reluctant smile.
"B, if I had pictures of you like that I wouldn't let anyone else look at them either. It's a trust thing, between me and him, you know?"
Brendon looked chastened and opened his mouth. "Oh, but. I wasn't trying to-"
"I know. It's okay."
"Sorry." Brendon tucked his cheek to his shoulder. "Fuck."
"Hey…" Jon kissed along his jaw until he drew Brendon into a kiss. "Forget it."
"… Will you still tell about being with him? Not the breaking trust, not him. But your first time…I want to know."
Jon had slipped into a pair of shorts earlier and Brendon was starting to push at them. Jon lifted his weight to let him and arched his head for Brendon to mouth at his neck.
"Tell me," Brendon whispered. "Tell me, c'mon …"
Brendon might only be starting out, Jon thought, but he would end up with a healthy list of kinks before he was done. He blamed Ryan. All that time talking about his and Spencer's sex life had given Brendon voyeuristic tendencies.
Still, Jon wouldn't, or couldn't, deny him. Words and descriptions came haltingly and his face heated with a blush as he told Brendon about smoking up with Tom as they sat on the floor of his apartment. How Tom had climbed into his lap, taken his hand, and guided him through every touch. He could remember the flavor of Tom's smoky-sweet skin even though he could taste Brendon now. The way it felt to have Tom inside of him while Brendon rolled over so that Jon could do the same.
~^~
Jon wondered if it had been too much. If he'd gone too far or said more than Brendon wanted to hear. He wanted to ask if Brendon was okay but thought that asking might imply that he shouldn't be. Instead, he koala-hugged Brendon's side and waited.
Eventually Brendon blew out a breath. "God, that was fucking awesome!"
~^~
The sky was still pitch black when Jon woke up to pee. Dawn came as early as 4am at this time of summer so it was earlier than that.
Clover squinted at him and barked her cranky meow at him for disturbing the bed.
"Hush, you. You'll wake him," Jon whisper-scolded. It wasn't at all chilly, which told him the day would be hot.
Jon stood in the doorway of the bathroom, looking at how the sheet lie snug showing the line of Brendon's back, curving around his ass. Climbing back into bed, he curled around Brendon who slept in a relatively still position all night long.
He was half gone to sleep again and hadn't even realized he'd got a semi until it was pressed and rising through his shorts against Brendon's bare skin. Always bare skin with Brendon.
Jon didn't think he was really even horny, aside from the usual, but he pressed himself against Brendon, with only the intension of pacifying the thing until later.
Brendon wasn't quite awake, but he wasn't asleep either and let a tiny nasal noise acknowledge Jon's action. Jon wasn't expecting the hand that snaked across his hip and shoved at his shorts.
Jon really meant to say no. Really. But he was half gone to sleep or living a waking a fantasy maybe. He just pressed his stiff cock along the split of Brendon's ass. He didn't expect anything further. They'd had sex earlier in the night, they still were tired, except for Jon's dick, apparently, and he was just enjoying the easy friction of rubbing against him until Brendon shifted, reaching for a bottle of lube and then pressed it into Jon's hand.
Jon hesitated only long enough to sigh but drizzled it into his hand. Reaching forward, he wrapped a hand around Brendon and rubbed some of the excess onto him.
Brendon pushed back at him, in no subtle request and mewled a demanding grunt at him.
"I don't," Jon's voice was heavy from sleep and disuse, and he had to cough and try again. "I'm out of condoms." He kissed Brendon's shoulder. "'M sorry."
"Mmp," was his only vocal reply and he nudged his ass against Jon insistently.
Oh, fuck, they couldn't. They couldn't, Jon thought, even as his baser tendencies were proving that they damn well could, and he was pushing against the moistened gather of soft skin and he wasn't even trying to use fingers. Just the wide, blunt press and withdrawal, press and withdrawal. No hurry. Just feeling the heat and slide without any insistence.
He felt Brendon's pulsing pushes back and his focused relaxation before Jon had properly thought about anything besides Feels Good. Brendon's body gave, greedy and pliant, and the tip of his cock slipped inside. Jon was pushing while biting his lip against the tiny voice that echoed NO. GO BACK. WE DON'T DO THIS! but it was far too late. The ripple of pleasure running up the backs of his thighs was greater than the tiny nagging voice.
Brendon had become more vocal as well. Pushing back and whimpering out grunts and gasps.
Skin against skin, nothing at all between them - it was so good - and so very bad - but really, so fucking good.
They moved together while on their sides, never going very hard or fast. Jon put his hand on Brendon's cock, squeezing and tugging long, slow pulls. Jon was happy to continue the slow mellow of the fuck, but Brendon took himself in hand and tugged, and within seconds, he was coming, tight muscles squeezing around Jon's dick. Jon was already damp under his arms and between his thighs, but Brendon was positively slick with sweat and the strong salt smell of him filled Jon's senses to bursting and that is precisely what he did.
He felt the tightening in his balls and then remembered. He pulled out as he was already half through, dotting Brendon's ass with hot, thick stripes.
After a few moments of dazed bliss, the pangs of guilt and alarm sunk in. He shook himself from his quiet laced stupor and went to the bathroom, running two washcloths under warm water. He reminded himself that neither had ever been so irresponsible with anyone else. They should be fine.
They didn’t speak at all while Jon wiped away his come from Brendon's body, being just as tender with the intimacy of it as he had when they began. You had to have a practical and fond humor about the messes made between two men.
Brendon chuckled into the pillow before raising his head to look at Jon over his shoulder. "You don’t need to do that. … Weirdo."
Jon smiled, though the room was still dark and Brendon couldn't see it.
"I was taught to clean up after myself."
Brendon laughed. "Yeah, well, it won't keep you from having to do laundry. The sheets are wrecked now."
Jon tossed the dirty washcloths into the bathroom so they'd land on the tile rather than wood floor, and then lay back.
Brendon immediately made himself into a human blanket over Jon's chest.
"I'm going to sleep on you now," Brendon informed him, his voice small and sleepy already.
"Yeah? Okay."
"I'm probably going to drool on you, too."
"I can handle it." His hand settled on the small of Brendon's back and he followed the impulse to curve over Brendon's ample butt cheek, ghosting a fingertip along the crack of his ass. "You okay, Bren?" The squeeze of his hand and tease of his fingers clearly communicated that he was inquiring after more than just if Brendon was sore.
Brendon turned his head and kissed Jon's collarbone. "It's okay, Jonny. … 's okay"
~^~
"You're kidding me with this, right?" Jon said, reading the flyer for the 'Leather and Lace Street Party' as a part of Bisbee's Pride Week.
Jon had gone to Pride events on campus before, but those had always carried the vibe of youthful rebellion and in-your-face shock therapy, just daring the world to defy them. The community here felt more like a lazy backyard BBQ, only maybe with slightly more tie-dye and lap dogs.
"I thought we could go through Olivia's closets, she's got a ton of old things I bet we could wear," Brendon said, looking to Jon for approval.
"Yeah, sure. But."
"I already know what I'm wearing," Ryan said, eyes downcast.
Spencer issued a quiet snort, piquing Jon's interest. "What is it then? Leather or lace?"
Ryan shrugged. "Yeah."
"Ho - you sexy thang, Ross!" Brendon laughed, shouldering up closer to him. "Show me - I have to see this immediately." Brendon pushed and nudged him to his feet.
Ryan rolled his eyes, giving in. "Fine. We'll be right back."
"Leather and Lace," Spencer said, shaking his head. "I'm pretty sure there's nothing in Olivia's closet that will work for me."
"I don't know, there's some crazy stuff up there. C'mon." Jon led them upstairs.
"Hey, so … are you sticking around here?" Spencer asked, lowering his voice as if someone else might hear them.
"Here, as in, in town? Yeah. I guess I want to stay. I think I'll live here for awhile."
"That's great! Only …"
Jon cocked his head and Spencer rubbed at his nose, stalling. "What is it?"
"Um, okay, it's just - are you only staying here because of Brendon? I think that's fine, but you know he wants to go to school, right? Hair dresser school - whatever it's called."
"I know. But he'd be back."
"Yeah, he would. And you'll wait?"
Jon shrugged, tucking a foot underneath him as he sat on the bed.
They could hear Brendon and Ryan coming up the stairs and shared a smile, breaking off conversation. "So, how about this?" Spencer asked, pulling a 70's sequined gown from the closet and held it in front of him. He sucked in his cheeks and puckered his lips just as Brendon and Ryan entered the room.
"Oh, yes!" Brendon agreed. "You should totally go in drag!"
Ryan flung himself in a chair and crossed his arms.
"What do you, think, Ry?" Spencer repeated his pretty lady pose but got no reaction from Ryan at all. "What's up with you?"
Brendon started thumbing through things in the closet behind Spencer. "Ryan can't hear you over the sound of his own self-righteousness right now."
"Hey," Spencer said softly, frowning between them.
"I can hear with perfect clarity that you are an idiot."
"Guys …" Jon coaxed. He was used to them bickering but they'd really dialed up the bitchiness here.
"And I'm including you in that," Ryan added with a glance at Jon, though it was barely audible.
"Whoa, what'd I do?" Jon asked.
"Don't ask." Brendon waved his hand.
"You should be grown men but apparently you're just horny, irresponsible teenagers."
"Ryan, what the fuck?" Spencer went over and kicked at Ryan's foot where he'd crossed it over his leg.
But Jon knew. At the word 'irresponsible', he knew that Brendon had told Ryan about that early morning several days earlier when they just couldn't stop in spite of not having any condoms. "Jesus …" he muttered, rubbing his neck and tugging his hair in frustration.
"I don't see where you get off being uptight about this," Brendon countered to Ryan. "You guys do it."
"Oh." Spencer had just caught on, too, and looked away avoiding eye contact with everyone in the room.
"It's not a competition, Brendon," Ryan snapped.
"Christ, Ryan." Spencer rolled his eyes, muttering and rubbing his eyes. "You didn't complain when Jon came in his mouth."
Jon couldn't help it, he actually snorted. It was too stupid that anyone was arguing about his sex life.
Ryan looked at Spencer like he was a traitor. "You know there's a difference. You work in the medical field."
Spencer laughed. "In the veterinary field! Oh, my god!" Spencer sat on the bed next to Jon.
"Ross, you're such a hypocrite," Brendon accused, still going through clothes like he wasn't interested.
"Spencer and I are in - we're committed. You don't even know how Jon feels."
"Hey - is that what this is about?" Jon sat up. He wondered if Brendon had told Ryan that they'd only exchanged blowjobs since then as some sort of self-imposed punishment. And they'd bought more condoms. "You think I don't love him?"
Ryan shrugged and rolled his eyes at the wall.
Jon thought he should be pissed off at Ryan, or at Brendon for telling Ryan fucking everything, but he'd accepted that part of Brendon and Ryan's relationship already. And he wasn't ashamed of anything he and Brendon had done together. Even the stupid things. "Is that what you think, Bren? That I don't…?"
Brendon gave Ryan one last exasperated look, pushed up his glasses, and then met Jon's eyes. "I wasn't asking for that from you."
"Yeah, I get that." Jon stood and leaned against Brendon, who bent his head to him and Jon was reminded that he was just a little bit shorter. He glanced over at Ryan and Spencer - were they seriously going to be a part of everything? "What I don't get is why you told Ryan? Why that?"
Brendon shrugged.
"Okay, you know what? We're leaving," Spencer announced, standing up and tugging on Ryan's arm.
"But-" Ryan started to protest.
"Don't even." He pointed a finger at Ryan. "You two, we'll see you tonight."
Brendon had his head bowed against Jon's shoulder and they were all giggling.
"Sorry," Brendon said when they were gone. "I shouldn't have said anything. I didn't think he'd be such a bitch about it. I just wanted to tell him that we were …"
Jon waited. "What? That we were what?"
Brendon started to fidget and wiggle. "They're like, the perfect couple, right? I want to be a part of something like that."
Jon let Brendon squirm free of his embrace and turn back to the closet, grumbling, "stupid," to himself. Jon tried to connect the dots between their respective sex lives and being the perfect couple.
"Let me get this right; did you think that doing it without a rubber was like, a sign of trust or something? Because, man, that was just being lazy." Brendon went still then, hugging his arms around himself. Jon felt frustration clawing at him, everything he said seemed to make Brendon feel worse. "And thing is, you're still so young." Brendon huffed and rolled his head, taking offense. "No, I just mean..." Jon went to him and made him look at him again. "I just mean that I know you want to go to school and that you might want to see other people and I don't want to assume."
"I don't. I just want to see you. Lots of you, Jon. Everyday."
"I love you." There. Honest. Simple. And for once, it was not completely random. Jon put his fingers over Brendon's lips. "And that's a gift. You don't have to return that."
Brendon nodded, and Jon slid his hands along Brendon's jaw and leaned up to kiss him. Brendon overwhelmed him with kisses, pushing Jon backwards until they flopped onto the bed. When they did, several quarters spilled out of the pocket of his jeans.
The jingling halted Brendon as he climbed on top of Jon. "What's all this?"
"Oh, uh. They're for you."
Brendon gave him a funny look and Jon shrugged. "You're always collecting them for laundry, so..."
Brendon's mouth opened slightly and he sat up, sitting over top of Jon. "You noticed and - for me?"
Jon reached up and twisted a bit of his hair, pulling a little. "They're just quarters."
"They're… Jon. You're - I love you!"
Jon laughed, finding himself smothered with a kiss. He closed his eyes while Brendon continued to kiss his face, running fingers through his hair and beard. He wondered for a moment, if his grandma had known it would be like this when she had intertwined their lives. And in spite of all the money she had left for Jon, it was simple pocket change that finally earned Brendon's heart.
~^~
~^~
I would be so appreciative to receive your feedback and comments! Thank you for reading!
Back to Header and Author's Notes