fic 31 - if this was all there was / a film reel [jesse/john]
title: if this was all there was / a film reel
fandom: Brand New / Taking Back Sunday / Straylight Run
pairing: Jesse/John (José)
rating: PG-13
synopsis: If I said that this was all there was, would you do it?
author's note: Second person. Addressee is John. I wanted to write a whole load of plays on the above phrase and awkward variations thereon but most were awful. Oh, and Dulux is a paint brand, in case it's just a British thing.
word count: 400w approx.
Your bedroom in your apartment. Rewind to half an hour before, at dinner, the first meal you’d had together in a long time. Jesse’s hand on your thigh under the table makes you shift in your seat, uncomfortably. The suggestion, awkward, his suggestion: “If I said that this was all there was, would you do it?” And your response was to ask what he meant. He replied, “This,” and massaged your thigh with his hand. You said his name awkwardly. “Would you?”
“Just once?” Nervous and barely able to talk. Breath and sound catching between larynx and lips.
“Yeah.” His smile enigmatic. His hand still there. Just resting there waiting for an answer.
“Yeah. I would.”
His hand slid off, over your knee, and he said, “Then screw the pretence. Let’s go.”
Your bedroom in your apartment. Jesse’s fingers grazing your spine, sliding your shirt up with them. Your mouths together, sharing air. You freeze. He stops, backs off a little. You say, “What if I wanted more than this?”
“Then,” he says, “Well, then we’d have to talk.”
“Later?” You venture it like a question. Something, you know, is better than nothing. This is a whole lot better than nothing.
“Later.”
Your clothes on your bedroom floor. His clothes there too. If you rewound half an hour we’d be replaying the ‘later’ scene. It’s later now. If this were a movie, maybe there’d be a little white title in the bottom right corner: LATER. But no one’s talking. You’re both just lying there. When he says ‘so’ like a question you just echo him. Eventually he says, “You still want more than this?”
You ask if you can at least do it again. He smiles again, you watch fixated as he smiles, and he says:
“Sure. Yeah. Of course we can do this again. I just, I can’t make promises. You know how it is.”
You say that you know even though you don’t. You say, “You can stay over.”
He says, “I can’t.”
You lying in bed and stargazing the white paint. If you rewind half an hour, you’d still be lying there stargazing Dulux. If you rewound three, maybe, you’d get Jesse leaving. And you’re wondering why you said yes even though you already know the answer. Honestly, you’ll take whatever you can get when it comes to Jesse and he probably knows it.
fandom: Brand New / Taking Back Sunday / Straylight Run
pairing: Jesse/John (José)
rating: PG-13
synopsis: If I said that this was all there was, would you do it?
author's note: Second person. Addressee is John. I wanted to write a whole load of plays on the above phrase and awkward variations thereon but most were awful. Oh, and Dulux is a paint brand, in case it's just a British thing.
word count: 400w approx.
Your bedroom in your apartment. Rewind to half an hour before, at dinner, the first meal you’d had together in a long time. Jesse’s hand on your thigh under the table makes you shift in your seat, uncomfortably. The suggestion, awkward, his suggestion: “If I said that this was all there was, would you do it?” And your response was to ask what he meant. He replied, “This,” and massaged your thigh with his hand. You said his name awkwardly. “Would you?”
“Just once?” Nervous and barely able to talk. Breath and sound catching between larynx and lips.
“Yeah.” His smile enigmatic. His hand still there. Just resting there waiting for an answer.
“Yeah. I would.”
His hand slid off, over your knee, and he said, “Then screw the pretence. Let’s go.”
Your bedroom in your apartment. Jesse’s fingers grazing your spine, sliding your shirt up with them. Your mouths together, sharing air. You freeze. He stops, backs off a little. You say, “What if I wanted more than this?”
“Then,” he says, “Well, then we’d have to talk.”
“Later?” You venture it like a question. Something, you know, is better than nothing. This is a whole lot better than nothing.
“Later.”
Your clothes on your bedroom floor. His clothes there too. If you rewound half an hour we’d be replaying the ‘later’ scene. It’s later now. If this were a movie, maybe there’d be a little white title in the bottom right corner: LATER. But no one’s talking. You’re both just lying there. When he says ‘so’ like a question you just echo him. Eventually he says, “You still want more than this?”
You ask if you can at least do it again. He smiles again, you watch fixated as he smiles, and he says:
“Sure. Yeah. Of course we can do this again. I just, I can’t make promises. You know how it is.”
You say that you know even though you don’t. You say, “You can stay over.”
He says, “I can’t.”
You lying in bed and stargazing the white paint. If you rewind half an hour, you’d still be lying there stargazing Dulux. If you rewound three, maybe, you’d get Jesse leaving. And you’re wondering why you said yes even though you already know the answer. Honestly, you’ll take whatever you can get when it comes to Jesse and he probably knows it.