stumbling towards serenity
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--
They spend most of the day outside, talking, playing (Andrew), reading (Jesse), laughing, swimming, and eating obnoxious amounts of food. By the time the sun sets Jesse's skin is pink, his stomach sore and he's pretty sure he's never been happier.
"Stop that," Emma mutters, sliding down into the chair next to Jesse's on the patio.
"Stop what?" Jesse asks, taking another sip from his beer, just in case Emma's going to take it away.
"You're practically glowing," she says, nudging his arm. "It's freaking me out."
Jesse smiles, because he can't help it, and shrugs, eyes straying unbidden toward Andrew, who's talking to Rooney, their heads bent together to be able to talk over the music spilling out from the open patio doors. Andrew's hair is messy, standing up in odd tufts and ends from where Jesse pulled on it earlier, and there's a hint of a hickey where his shoulder meets his neck.
"Pod person," Emma says fondly, leaning her head against Jesse's shoulder.
Jesse puts his arm around her and wonders where Justin is. He hasn't seen him since lunch.
"Is everything okay?" he asks.
"Yeah," Emma says, but she doesn't sound as if she means it.
Jesse's stomach twists, but he doesn't want to pry with all these people around, so he just lets Emma settle into his side and watches Andrew across the table. He reminds himself that he cannot possibly be responsible for anyone's life but his own, but it's hard to not want to try, when Emma sighs into his shirt and cuddles up close like she hasn't done since they were twelve.
--
That night Andrew spreads Jesse on the sheets and proceeds to give him the two most intense orgasms of his life, pretty much back to back, before he comes all over Jesse's stomach after less than fifteen seconds of Jesse's fingers wrapped around his cock. Jesse thinks that his life is pretty much awesome right now.
While Andrew gets a towel Jesse stares at the filthy mess on his stomach and thinks about Andrew's gentle fingers grazing his opening and sending him over the edge in two seconds flat. He wonders if Andrew wants that, if Andrew wants to fuck him as much as he would like to have Andrew inside of him. He wonders if Andrew thinks about it when he jerks off, like Jesse does sometimes.
He's too spent to get hard again, but the thought still sends a tingle of pleasure through him and when Andrew comes back into the room, Jesse's cheeks flush pink. Andrew crawls onto the bed to give Jesse a kiss.
"Hey you," he says, smiling.
The towel is cold against Jesse's stomach and he shivers, biting down on his lower lip, when Andrew runs it down over his cock.
"Don't do that," Andrew whispers, using his thumb to pull Jesse's lip from between his teeth. "It's distracting."
Jesse's eyes flicker down. "Oh," he says.
Andrew flushes. "Shut up," he mutters.
Jesse licks his lips and Andrew makes a soft noise at the back of his throat.
"Really?" Jesse asks, frowning.
"I like your mouth, okay?" Andrew mumbles, his cheeks pink.
Jesse licks his lips again. "Do you want me to…?”
Andrew's visible shudder is answer enough.
--
Andrew protests, of course, and tells Jesse about seventeen times that he doesn't have to, but when Jesse eases Andrew’s boxers down his cock is flushed and hard, curling beautifully toward his stomach.
It's tricky at first, to remember to cover his teeth and bob his head and ideally suck at the same time, but then it's wonderful. Jesse’s always had something of an oral fixation but this, this is so much more. It's kind of embarrassing, the way he gets off on Andrew's cock stretching his lips and bumping against his palate, dick hard and leaking between his legs, embarrassing but mostly amazing.
Andrew makes noises and thrashes against the sheets, and he buries the fingers of one hand into Jesse's curls and the other into the sheets. Jesse squeezes his eyes shut and sucks harder, tries to take more, shivering with pleasure whenever he nearly gags. His lips burn and his jaw aches and he's so hard he's throbbing with it.
Andrew's fingers clench in his hair and he makes a low pained noise at the back of his throat.
"Jess, I'm gonna… You have to…"
He tugs harder on Jesse's hair, pulling him away, and Jesse reluctantly lets Andrew's cock slip from between his lips. He looks up, meeting Andrew's heated gaze, and Andrew's hips shudder against the arm Jesse has braced on his stomach.
Jesse's mouth feels too empty and he doesn't even think before he crawls up Andrew's body to kiss him, sucking Andrew's tongue into his mouth with a choked back moan. Their cocks bump together, slick and hot in the heated space between their bodies and Jesse has to throw his head back on a blissful moan.
"Jesus fuck," Andrew gasps weakly.
He reaches up to touch Jesse's lips, fingertips sliding against the curve of his mouth and Jesse can't help the noise he makes, can't help the way he opens up to let Andrew's fingers slip right in. He sucks hard, greedy, rubbing his tongue against Andrew's knuckles while his hips twist and shudder. He dimly registers the fact that Andrew's coming, shaking and shuddering beneath him, helpless noises escaping his lips, but he can't stop. He just has to… just a little more.
Then Andrew's other hand is on his cock and Jesse's gone, coming so hard his vision whites out and his thighs cramp, with Andrew's fingers still pressed against his tongue. The embarrassment creeps back when he releases Andrew's fingers and flops back down on the bed, still shivering with aftershocks.
"Wow," Andrew says weakly, curling his fingers around Jesse's hand. "That was… holy shit."
Jesse's lips are sore and he prods lightly at them with his tongue, turning his head against the pillows and right into an open-mouthed kiss. Andrew touches Jesse's face when they pull apart, smiling his softest smile.
"I don't want to worry you but there's one thing I just have to point out," Andrew says, still smiling.
Jesse blinks and worries because obviously any statement that starts like that is worth worrying about. "What?" he asks, when he feels that Andrew has left him hanging for too long. (Seconds.)
"The sex shouldn't be this good."
Jesse narrows his eyes and pinches Andrew's side because obviously he's a horrible person. Andrew cringes away and laughs, and Jesse loves him so much his chest can barely contain it.
"Why?"
Andrew shrugs and gives him a kiss. "It's just… I'm terribly anxious and I worry about every little thing and you're even more anxious and worry about things that aren't even there… We really shouldn't be sexually compatible."
Jesse tries to digest this. He gets it, in a way, but also not. "Is that why you didn't make a move on me?"
Andrew makes a noise that could be assent or just a sign of indigestion. "Kind of, yes." He rubs his thumb over the corner of Jesse's mouth. "I figured that the first time would be awkward, it always is, and I worried that it would get too awkward and we'd both worry too much and then everything would be weird and… yeah… I didn't want it to ruin a perfect thing."
Jesse's heart flutters but he still feels the need to point out, "I came on your face."
"Mmm… yeah," Andrew agrees, moving closer so that he breathes the next part into Jesse's mouth. "You can do it again, any time."
Jesse wants to kiss him, so he does.
--
Three days after the weekend, Justin and Emma break up and Jesse finds himself awkwardly sitting in between friendship chairs. Emma is his best friend, she will always be his best friend, but Justin is his friend too and Jesse doesn't have too many of those. It would have been easier, he thinks, if one of them had definitely been in the wrong but it's just one of those things. Sex changed everything; they lost the spark, and now everything is awkward and horrible.
Jesse spends a week trying to split his time equally between them, driven by a misplaced sense of guilt and his own anxieties. For every hour he spends with Emma he has to spend an hour with Justin and by the end of the week he's exhausted and the only one he hasn’t spent time with is Andrew.
He doesn't sleep well at night, waking up at odd hours with anxiety thrumming beneath the surface of his skin, keeping him up until the wee hours of the morning before the cycle starts all over again. They're not doing it on purpose, he's almost certain, but they send him bouncing back and forth like a socially inept ping-pong ball.
His shrink makes noises about putting him back on a low dose of the anxiety meds he's been on and off of since he was fourteen and his mom pointedly takes out the sleeping pills he hasn't needed in a year and he feels like such a failure. It's not even about the medications, because he's fully aware of the fact that he's probably going to be on and off of them his entire life, it's about the fact that it's been a week and no one has enough faith in him to believe he'll be able to pull out of it on his own.
He's stressed and anxious and not sleeping very well, but he's not stressed and anxious and sleep-deprived without reason. He's worried about his friends and his regrettably few friendships, and the fact that his boyfriend is a saint but will probably not agree to being avoided forever. He's a teenager with teenaged problems, and medication will deal with the symptoms, not the cause, and his shrink should fucking know that. It's a sign of personal growth, he's sure, to be able to recognize all that but it's too bad that he's not yet at a point where he knows how to deal with it without daily panic attacks.
--
Andrew calls him on Sunday afternoon, almost exactly a week after they got home from the summer house, which is also almost exactly a week since the last time they saw each other for more than a few minutes in passing.
"Hey," he says, sweet and slow as always.
"Hey," Jesse says, while looking around for a clean shirt.
He's going to the movies with Justin and he's already running late. He doesn't want to go to the movies, he wants to collapse in a dejected slump and sleep for a year, preferably with Andrew, but he spent all day with Emma so movies with Justin it is.
"What are you doing?" Andrew asks, catching Jesse in the middle of trying to wriggle into a shirt without letting go of the phone.
"Mmmphh, hmmm, going to the movies with Justin," Jesse manages, pulling the shirt down over his stomach.
"Oh," Andrew says and Jesse can hear the disappointment. It feels like a slap to the face.
"Sorry," he says quickly. "Sorry, I'm just…"
"Running yourself into the ground," Andrew finishes quietly. "Jess…"
"Sorry," Jesse says again, too quickly, and his eyes burn.
Andrew sighs. "I'll give you a ride. I'll be there in ten minutes."
Jesse glances at the clock and doesn't protest. "Okay," he says.
--
They don't talk a lot on their way to the theater. Andrew blathers about his day while Jesse dozes with his head against the window. It's nice, he thinks, that they don't really have to talk, that they can just be. He never managed that before, but with Andrew he doesn't feel a need to fill silences or carry his end of the conversation.
Andrew leans over and gives Jesse a kiss when they've stopped outside the theater. "Text me when it's done," he says when they pull apart. "I'll drive you home."
Jesse wants to protest and say that Andrew doesn't have to, but in the end he just murmurs a quick thanks and slips out of the car, half-turning to give Andrew an awkward wave as he walks up to the doors.
--
The movie is incomprehensible but that might be because Jesse keeps dozing off, waking up with a start every time something explodes on the screen, until it's finally over and he sends off a text to Andrew before the lights have even come on.
"I'm sorry," Justin says on their way out, jostling Jesse's shoulder.
"For what?" Jesse asks, squinting in the harsh light of the corridor.
Justin shrugs. "For making you come, I guess." He's silent for a moment and Jesse waits for the other shoe to drop. "I know you don't like movies."
"It was fine," Jesse says quickly. "Good. I liked that part with the… uh… explosions."
"Yeah," Justin says dryly. "Because that was the only thing you were awake for."
Jesse flushes and fidgets with his phone. He's a horrible friend.
"You don't have to worry so much," Justin says, looking intently at the wall. "You're allowed to say no and still be my friend. I mean I know you hang out a lot with Emma, it's okay. It's not… we're not… I'm fine. Really."
"Thanks," Jesse says after a few seconds. "Just… thanks."
Justin punches Jesse in the arm and jostles his shoulder which Jesse takes to mean the uncomfortable talk about feelings is over for now. He smiles, a little brighter than he did before, and feels a little better about everything. Sometimes he forgets that his friends are his friends for a reason (whatever that might be) and not because their mothers made them hang out with him.
They split up outside, Justin to get his bike and Jesse to catch his ride. Justin waves before he rides off and Jesse waves back, lips pulling into a helpless smile. Somehow it will all be okay.
-
Andrew smiles when Jesse slides into the passenger seat and he leans over the console to give Jesse a quick kiss.
"Wanna go somewhere?" he asks.
The sky is already dark and Jesse's eyelids are drooping, but he nods as he buckles himself in.
"Please," he says.
They end up at the lake, walking along the beach with their hands tangled between them and their feet bare. The stars twinkle weakly far above their heads and the sand is damp beneath the soles of their feet. The sound of laughter and muffled music carries across the lake from the bonfire burning on the opposite shore and Jesse thinks about the night that feels so long ago now when they awkwardly attempted to talk things out.
"When did you… um… realize that you… uh… liked… me?" Jesse asks. He's been wondering for a while, but asking always seemed so presumptuous.
"Hanukkah," Andrew answers promptly, squeezing Jesse's fingers. "I mean, I always liked you, but that’s when… yeah."
Jesse's breath sticks in his throat. "But you…"
"Yeah," Andrew says softly. "I know."
Jesse's head spins and he tugs on Andrew's hand, moving away from the shoreline to sit down in the sand; Andrew was still with Shannon at Hanukkah.
"I'm not a perfect person," Andrew says, pulling his knees up and folding his arms across them, eyes trained on the glittering lake. "But that was… I didn't want to feel that way about you. I had so many reasons not to, but…" He turns his head to smile at Jesse. "You can't help the way you feel."
Jesse bites on his lower lip and nods. He tried to get over Andrew so many times, occasionally he even managed to fool himself that he had succeeded, but every time Andrew showed up again it became obvious how much he hadn't.
Andrew sighs and rests his chin on his folded arms. "We didn't break up over you," he says. "Bringing her home was a last attempt to make it work, to make it feel real, but it just drove home that no matter how much we worked as friends we just weren't made to be a couple."
Jesse wants to know more, he wants to ask how and why, but it feels wrong to pry.
"I was fourteen," he says instead, cheeks heating up because he’s never admitted that out loud before.
"Really?" Andrew squeaks.
Jesse blushes harder and feels like a loser. Fourteen wasn't a good age in general; he was tense and anxious, caught up in puberty and all of the things he didn't know how to say. He still remembers exactly what it felt like to look up and have Andrew's smile hit him like a blow to the stomach, remembers what it felt like to realize what it most likely meant. Up until that point he'd thought that eventually it would be Emma, that one day he would look at her and not just see his best friend, but a potential mate.
"It was your smile," Jesse says, digging his fingers into the sand. "I looked up and you were smiling at me and… "
He shakes his head, folding forward to rest his chin against his knees. He doesn't like to think about it and it feels weird somehow to tell Andrew now, as if he will travel back in time and retrospectively laugh in Jesse's besotted face. For the most part Jesse's crush on Andrew wasn't a happy thing, but a constant source of anxiety and stress because he didn't honestly think he would ever have this.
Andrew shifts to wrap an arm around Jesse's back, leaning over to kiss his temple. "You were adorable at fourteen," he says.
Jesse snorts but he leans into Andrew's side. He was all knees and elbows and hair at fourteen, a little thinner, a little paler and a lot shorter.
"Why did you stop writing me letters?" Andrew asks, and he sounds as if maybe he's been wondering for a while.
Jesse flushes again and looks out over the lake. "Because you brought Shannon home," he says. "I only… I only started writing in the first place because I wanted you to remember me but then she went from words on a page to a real person and I… I didn't want to be that person."
"I missed them," Andrew says, squeezing Jesse's waist. "I've read and reread each one so many times they're falling apart."
Jesse's smile trembles at the edges and he digs his fingers into the sand again. "You still have them?" he asks.
"Yeah," Andrew says, sliding his hand up to rub his thumb over the protruding bone just below Jesse's neck. "I reread them after that night you tried to kiss me, looking for clues, I guess…"
"Did you find any?"
Andrew smiles, lopsided and sweet. "No," he says. "But then I thought that maybe the fact that you did write me letters was a clue and that maybe the fact that I read them so many times they were falling apart even before I had my epiphany was another one."
Jesse smiles too, too helpless not to, lips still pulled tight when they meet Andrew's in a soft kiss. Andrew laughs when he breaks the kiss to yawn and presses a kiss to Jesse's still-flushed cheek.
"Come on," he says, tugging lightly on Jesse's shirt. "I'm gonna take you home."
"Okay," Jesse says, and his heart feels so much lighter he thinks it might be floating around in his chest held up by helium balloons.
--
The following morning Jesse wakes up to a call from his uncle and he bikes down to the store to help with the backlog of remote orders. Milo is there too, and they spend most of the morning in awkward silence with Milo packing the boxes and Jesse writing out the address slips and checking the contents against the order lists.
Around noon Jesse's uncle looks into the backroom and tells them to go for lunch, and Jesse grabs his backpack, fully intending to head down to the Ice Cream Palace rather than spend another five seconds in Milo's company.
"Oh, come on," Milo says. "You're really still pissed?"
Jesse shrugs and Milo rolls his eyes.
"Let's go to Dazzle," he says, "My treat."
Jesse doesn't want to, but Milo sounds so certain that he finds himself nodding anyway.
-
Dazzle is crowded with tourists and people on their lunch break when they get there and they end up at a small sun-streaked table by the front windows. It's too hot; Jesse's shirt sticks uncomfortably to his back and Milo's idle chatter grates on his nerves. It feels wrong to let Milo treat him to lunch, but Milo refused to take the money Jesse tried to hand over and he can't really try again without making a scene.
Milo is good with words, clever and soft spoken; maybe that's why Jesse doesn't realize what he's doing until the thought has been firmly planted in his mind.
"Some people just have fickle hearts, you know?" Milo says, forking up another mouthful of pasta. "They're not bad people, they just fall in and out of love easily… I don't want to see you get hurt."
"Are you implying Andrew is one of those people?" Jesse asks, narrowing his eyes.
Milo smiles sweetly. "What on Earth gave you that idea?"
-
Jesse doesn't want to think about it. He doesn't want to give Milo's words any credence because it's obvious that he, for some reason, is determined to sow discord between Jesse and Andrew, but it's impossible not to. Jesse has known Andrew for most of his life and since Andrew's mid-teens he has been in and out of numerous relationships, enough that Andrew's dad used to jokingly refer to him as a serial monogamist.
Andrew calmed down a lot with the end of high school, but Jesse knows very little about his dating exploits on the other side of the pond. For all Jesse knows he could have had a new girl, or a new boy, every week until he met Shannon, and despite the implied seriousness of their relationship, they didn't last past the one year mark.
There is nothing to say that this is different, that Andrew actually intends for Jesse to be more than a summer fling, and another seed of doubt takes root in Jesse's heart.
--
"Have you had many relationships?"
The question slips out unchecked and Jesse wishes he could suck it back into his mouth and make Andrew forget he ever said anything.
"What?"
"Nothing," Jesse says quickly. "It was nothing."
Andrew's eyes narrow.
"Really," Jesse says despairingly. "Don't… don't answer. I don't want to know."
Andrew's face falls and he shifts closer to slip an arm across Jesse's shoulders. "What is this even about?" he asks.
"Nothing," Jesse mumbles, leaning into Andrew's side. "Really. Forget about it."
Andrew tightens his fingers around Jesse's shoulder and he still looks distressed. "Is this… Are you worried about something?"
"I'm always worried about something," Jesse mutters.
"Please don't worry," Andrew says softly, turning his head to press a kiss against Jesse's temple. "This isn't… I'm really sure about this."
Jesse nods, but he can't help but to wonder how many times Andrew said something similar to someone else.
--
Emma talks Jesse into going to a party on Friday night.
"Come ooon," she whines over the phone. "It'll be dreadful, but we can get tipsy on terrible wine and talk until the wee hours of morning like we used to."
"Okay," Jesse sighs. "Fine. I'll go."
"You're the bestest friend ever," Emma gushes and Jesse rolls his eyes.
-
Jesse takes one look at Emma's dress and sighs, "Justin's going, isn't he?"
Emma grins. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
It's not that it's not a pretty dress, because it is, but it's also a whole lot less of a dress than she usually wears. He points that out and she laughs at him as if he's silly and reaches out to ruffle his hair. Jesse thinks it's a good thing he's gay because he will never ever understand women.
-
The party is unusually lame and the wine is definitely terrible, but somehow Jesse still finds himself having a good time. Justin and Emma are talking again and it's almost like it used to be, with only the occasional awkward silence and tense moment. It makes him happy for them but it also makes him inexplicably sad that it took less than two weeks for all the moments they shared to be reduced to nothing but awkward memories and tasteless jokes. Maybe it's because Milo's words still lurk at the back of his mind despite the time he’s spent with Andrew since then. He never has doubts when he's actually with Andrew, but as soon as they've said goodbye the doubts start creeping back in and he's left questioning everything.
Andrew texts him shortly after midnight.
I'm home. How's the party?
Jesse thumbs out a quick answer.
Lame, but okay.
Want me to pick you up?
Nah, I'm gonna walk home with Emma.
Okay. Be careful.
I mean it.
And call me if you need a ride.
Or if you get too drunk.
Or if you see something suspicious.
Actually, just call me. It's okay if it's really late.
Jesse bites down on his lower lip to stop himself from smiling and rolls his eyes at the barrage of messages.
You're silly. Go to bed. We'll be fine.
Okay, but call me if there's trouble.
I will.
-
"Andrew?" Emma asks when Jesse slides his phone back into his pocket.
"Yeah," he says.
Emma smiles and pokes his thigh with her toes. "I can always tell," she gloats.
Jesse rolls his eyes. "There are only four people that might text me in the middle of the night and three of them are here so…"
Emma laughs. "But only one makes your face light up."
Jesse bites on his lip again and tries for a smile, but he can tell that Emma doesn't buy it.
"Everything okay?" She asks, clearly concerned.
"Yeah," Jesse says quickly. "Everything is fine. I promise."
He doesn't know how to voice his concerns and he doesn't know if he even wants to. Usually he's all for talking things through, but this is one of those things he should probably talk to Andrew about rather than anyone else, because Andrew is the only one who knows the answer.
"Okay," Emma says, smiling again. She probably doesn't believe him, but she knows him well enough to know that he will talk when he's ready.
-
The moon is hanging low when they finally amble their way home, fingers loosely tangled and steps slightly uneven. It reminds Jesse of the other night at the beach and he snorts to himself, giving Emma a sidelong glance.
"Did you know I used to think I would fall in love with you?" he asks.
Emma laughs. "Did you know I used to be in love with you?" she counters.
Jesse blinks, and frowns, and blinks again. "What?"
She laughs again and squeezes his fingers. "Don't worry, I'm over you."
"Oh," he says, frowning up at the moon. "Just… Really?"
She grins and bumps their shoulders together, almost sending Jesse sprawling across someone's lawn. "I know you find it hard to believe but it's actually kind of hard not to fall in love with you. You're just… you, always, and it's so incredibly refreshing."
Jesse blinks again and tries to wrap his mind around the fact that Emma has at one point been in love with him. Emma, who's probably the coolest person he'll ever know (aside from Andrew), has been in love with him. It doesn't compute.
"You're weird," he says vaguely and continues to frown at the moon.
"Oh, Jesse," Emma sighs and lets go of his hand in favor of squeezing his waist. "You're much more loveable than you think."
"Hmmm," Jesse responds, but he puts his arm around her shoulders and smiles into the night. Sometimes Emma knows just the right things to say even if he doesn't tell her the problem.
-
They sneak into the house and up the stairs to Emma's room without waking anyone, quite a feat considering they can't stop giggling over some lame joke Jesse made.
"Shut up," Emma hisses when she pushes the door closed behind them.
"I didn't say anything," Jesse says, and somehow that sets them off again.
"What are you doing here anyway?" Emma asks, when they've settled down somewhat, leaning over to turn on the bedside light.
Jesse frowns. "I'm staying over, remember?"
Emma giggles again and drags her legs up under her. "I meant here, stupid."
Jesse frowns again and looks at the door. "I can go home if you want me to."
Emma laughs so hard she wheezes, folding forward in an acrobatic move Jesse didn't think her capable of to muffle her guffaws into the comforter. She lifts a hand and flails it vaguely at the wall, which isn't really helpful at all.
"You want me to… brush my teeth?" Jesse guesses.
"Oh God," Emma groans, tipping over on her side. "Brush your teeth."
She dissolves into laughter again and Jesse sourly wonders how many hours of their friendship have consisted of exactly this.
"What?" he asks grumpily.
She hiccups and sucks in a breath, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "Andrew is just down the hall, silly," she says.
"Oh…" Jesse's cheeks color. "Um…"
"I mean, you probably haven't had any private time," she waggles her eyebrows, "since the summer house."
Jesse blushes darker and mumbles an affirmative. It's really hard to find a place to fool around that won't offend Jesse's sensibilities without paying for a room and they're not quite that desperate… yet.
"No one will mind, Jess," she says, just smiling now. "And the master bedroom is downstairs on the other end of the house."
"But you're here," Jesse mutters.
"At the other end of the house," Emma points out, rolling her eyes. "Just how loud were you planning to be?"
Jesse's face feels as if it's on fire and he hides behind his sweaty palms. "I hate you," he mutters.
"Oh, you're totally loud, aren't you?" she says gleefully.
"Shut up," he hisses. "I'm… just shut up."
She laughs again but when he hazards a look she's still looking at him, eyes sparkling with mirth.
"I have headphones," she says. "Come on, Jess, consider it an early birthday gift."
"Okay," he mumbles, biting at his lower lip. "And you don't think he'll mind."
She rolls her eyes and makes a shooing motion with her hand. "Now go before I change my mind."
"Okay," Jesse says again and picks up his bag.
-
Jesse feels like a home intruder as he sneaks down the hall, bag in hand and breath hitching every time the floorboards creak underneath his feet. He's pretty sure Andrew's dad isn't going to burst up the stairs and accuse him of sodomy, but in his fevered mind it's definitely a possibility.
He hesitates outside Andrew's door, biting at his lower lip and shifting his feet. He can't actually remember the last time he was in Andrew's room, but he's pretty sure it was before Andrew took off for London. He's not sure Andrew's ever been in his room, which is quite a feat considering how long they've known each other.
He knocks lightly on the door and holds his breath. There's a bathroom to his right that he can dash into if he hears someone on the stairs, but Emma would laugh at him forever if he did that. He hears the muffled sounds of someone moving from inside Andrew's room and then the lock clicks and Andrew pulls the door open.
Andrew looks amazing; his boxers are riding low on his hips and his hair is in wild disarray, eyelids heavy and drooping. His worn t-shirt is rucked up over his stomach and half-tucked into his boxers, making him look strangely vulnerable.
"Hi," Jesse breathes, still hopelessly nervous.
Andrew blinks, lips pulling into a smile. "Hi," he says.
"Can I… uh… come in?"
"Of course," Andrew says, stepping aside to let Jesse slip through the crack in the door.
Jesse puts his bag down and stops uncertainly just inside the door. It's dark, Andrew didn't bother to turn on a lamp and Jesse doesn't know his way around.
"Um… Is this okay?" he whispers. "Emma said I should, but…"
"Of course," Andrew says again, gently pushing the door shut. "Don't be silly. I'm delighted."
He curls his hands around Jesse's shoulders and brushes a kiss against the back of his neck.
"I should brush my teeth," Jesse murmurs, rubbing his palms against his thighs.
Andrew gently steers him around and lifts his hands to cup Jesse's face.
"Are you okay?" he asks.
Jesse nods, and licks his lips. "Just nervous," he admits.
"Don't be." Andrew whispers, brushing his thumbs over Jesse's cheeks. "You don't have to be nervous with me."
Jesse smiles and tips his head back to make it easier for Andrew to kiss him, which he does, lips warm and a little wet.
"I should still brush my teeth," he says when they pull apart and Andrew laughs, breath fluttering, warm and moist, across Jesse's face.
"I suppose I should let you then," Andrew says, letting his hands drop to Jesse's shoulders and squeezing lightly.
Jesse smiles a little wider and presses a kiss against Andrew's jaw. "I'll be right back," he murmurs, stomach already tight with anticipation.
-
Jesse brushes his teeth, washes up and changes into his pajamas in the upstairs bathroom. He's half hard, which is more than a little embarrassing, but it's not like there's anyone hiding in the shower to watch him. At least he really hopes there's no one in the shower.
He checks that there's no one in the shower. There isn't, but he's still a little embarrassed as he creeps back to Andrew's room and drops his clothes on top of his bag. He locks the door behind him and then he's embarrassed about that too, because it feels presumptuous somehow.
"Come here," Andrew murmurs from the bed, making vague motions with his hands that Jesse can barely make out in the dark. "You're too far away."
Andrew's bed is soft and warm and the pillows smell like his aftershave. Jesse thinks he could get used to sleeping in it, especially with the way Andrew shifts closer and wraps an arm across his back.
"Hey," Andrew says, teeth white as he smiles in the dark.
Jesse swallows and shifts even closer, so that their noses are almost brushing. He doesn't know what to do with his hands that are trapped between their bodies, or his legs, brushing against Andrew's, but he's not really nervous anymore. He feels safe here, in Andrew's room, his bed and his arms.
Andrew nudges closer to kiss him, licking delicately against Jesse's tongue and the roof of his mouth, before he pulls back to look at Jesse in the dark.
"How much did you have to drink?" he asks, gently brushing his fingers over the bumps of Jesse's spine.
"Not much," Jesse responds, shifting a little closer and finding a home for one of his hands on Andrew's hip. "Not too much."
"You sure?" Andrew's voice is low and rough, needy, and Jesse nods.
"Yeah," he breathes into Andrew's descending mouth.
They just kiss at first, slow and wonderful, drawn out and messy. They kiss until Jesse's breathless with it, heart pounding and lips buzzing. They kiss until Andrew pulls away to mouth at Jesse's jaw, his cheek, the line of his throat and the dip of his collarbone.
"I want to blow you," Andrew whispers. "Can I?"
Jesse shivers, hips twitching without his consent even as his cheeks flame.
"I might come on your face," he warns.
Andrew chuckles, pushing Jesse's shirt up to press delicate kisses against his chest. "It's a risk I'm willing to take," he murmurs.
Andrew pushes the covers away when he pulls Jesse's sleep pants down, exposing him fully to the meager light seeping in through the blinds. It feels odd to be naked with Andrew still fully clothed and Jesse pulls ineffectively at the shoulders of his t-shirt.
Andrew grins and sits back on his haunches to pull it over his head, messing up his already crazy bedhead further. Jesse trails his eyes down over Andrew's stomach to where his dick is tenting his boxers, curving hard against the worn fabric, and his own dick twitches against his stomach. Andrew crawls upward to press a kiss to Jesse's lips, brushing their naked chests together, and Jesse half-moans into the kiss when his nipples rub against Andrew's warm skin.
Andrew moves downward again, trailing kisses over Jesse's flushed chest and fluttering stomach until he reaches his leaking cock. He pauses to nudge his nose against Jesse's balls, breathing him in, and Jesse is equal parts turned on, creeped out and curious as to what Andrew smells like. Then he forgets all about it, because Andrew braces one arm across Jesse's stomach and licks a long wet stripe from the base of his dick to the flushed head.
He makes a helpless noise at the back of his throat, hips twitching up against Andrew's hold, and throws an arm across his face in an attempt to muffle himself. He's mortified at the thought of anyone hearing him like this, yet he can't help the noises that spill out when Andrew fits his lips around him and sucks.
It's so good, there are no words for how good it is, tight and wet and hot, so incredibly overwhelming. Jesse jerks off twice a day thinking about this (and many other scenarios), but he doesn't even come close to capturing the real thing and nothing he ever does to himself feels this good.
Part of it is the suction of course, rhythmic and sure, but most of it is the noises Andrew makes, the way he shifts his hips, the dark heady look in his eyes whenever Jesse hazards a look, the fact that Jesse isn't alone in his room, but together, with Andrew, who is everything Jesse has wanted since he was fourteen years old.
"I'm gonna…" he chokes out, breathless, but Andrew doesn't pull away, he just keeps on sucking, slower now, until Jesse digs his fingers into the covers and arches up with a choked-back scream, spilling helplessly down Andrew's throat.
Andrew swallows, which is-Jesse doesn't even know what that is, but it makes him flush crimson and squirm with equal parts desire and embarrassment and then Andrew is pulling off and licking his reddened lips and smiling in a way that makes him look five years old and Jesse's chest aches with how much he loves him.
Andrew presses a kiss to Jesse's hip and crawls up his body to kiss the corner of his mouth. Jesse turns his head into it and Andrew makes a noise that sounds like you don't have to, but Jesse wants to taste himself on Andrew's tongue. It's odd at first, too salty and almost bitter, but it's hot too and Jesse makes a helpless noise into Andrew's mouth.
"God, you're so…" Andrew mutters, dropping his head to breathe against Jesse's ear. "Beautiful."
Jesse slides his hands down Andrew's sides, letting them curl around his hips, the elastic of Andrew's boxers brushing against his fingers. Andrew's breath hitches and Jesse slides one of his hands in between them, cupping the hard line of Andrew’s cock.
"Fuck," Andrew gasps and Jesse pushes on his hip until he relents and rolls over on his back.
It's weird to be the aggressor, but heady too, and Jesse works Andrew's boxers down over his ass with determination. Andrew's cock curls up against his stomach, flushed an angry red and sticky with precome. It makes Jesse's cock twitch vainly, already half-hard again, and that would be embarrassing too, if Andrew didn't groan low in his throat and lick his lips at the sight.
Jesse bites at his lip and thinks about this period romance he read when he was fifteen. There was a scene in it that he sometimes returns to in his fantasies and he wonders if Andrew would maybe like that.
"Can we…" He cuts himself off and flushes and wonders how you even ask for something like that, and what it's even called in more technical terms.
"Anything," Andrew says promptly. "We can do anything you want."
Jesse nods and flushes some more. "I want you to…" He cuts himself off, staring off to the side. "Like this."
He lies down next to Andrew and curls up on his side. Andrew immediately shifts to embrace him, pressing a kiss behind Jesse's ear.
"Hey," he murmurs, spreading his fingers over Jesse's chest. "Don't be embarrassed."
Jesse shifts, pushing his ass back against Andrew's stomach and moving his legs so that Andrew's cock slips in between his thighs in a way that makes both of them moan.
"Jesus," Andrew breathes, hips stuttering forward so that his cock nudges at the back of Jesse's balls. "God… Is this…"
"Yeah," Jesse murmurs. "Keep going."
It's everything Jesse thought it would be and more. Andrew's cock is rock hard and silky hot, smearing precome on the insides of his thighs and bumping against his perineum with every rough slide.
"Fuck," Andrew breathes, almost reverent, curling a hand hard around Jesse's hip. "Jesse."
Jesse's hard again, cock full, almost leaking, but he doesn't want to touch himself, doesn't want Andrew to touch him, because he wants to be able to remember every second of this. He wants to remember Andrew's slick cock dragging against his most secret skin, staining him, marking him, wants to remember the way Andrew breathes against his neck, heavy, almost reverent, and the way his hips stutter forward, helplessly, hopelessly, nesting his cock in underneath Jesse's balls time and time again.
Andrew's chest is slick with sweat against Jesse's back and his fingers dig bruises into his hip. He tries to move his hand to Jesse's cock but Jesse pushes it away, stuttering out a breathless "later." Andrew groans against his neck and thrusts harder and Jesse tightens his thighs and curls his hands into the sheet, pushing back against every shove.
It occurs to him that maybe it isn't entirely safe, not with the way Andrew's naked cock rubs against his opening with every other thrust, slicking him up and making him gasp, but he doesn't care. He wants Andrew to come on him; he wants Andrew to mess him up. He wants it so much he's breathless with it.
When it finally happens it makes Jesse shudder all over, Andrew's come pumping warm and slick over his thighs, his balls and the exposed cleft of his ass. Andrew gasps out his name and bites down on his shoulder and Jesse wants that too, wants it to bruise, to show. He didn’t know he had that in him.
"Holy shit," Andrew pants when his hips have stopped shuddering, pressing a soft kiss to Jesse's shoulder. "That was… fuck…"
He shifts back, letting his cock slip out from between Jesse's thighs, replacing it with curious fingertips.
"You're so messy," he whispers, slipping his fingers deeper in between Jesse's thighs to rub against the back of his balls. "Fuck."
Jesse breathes out a moan and shifts forward slightly, spreading his thighs more, because he wants Andrew to touch him there.
"Fuck," Andrew says again touching the slick inside of Jesse's thigh. "I'm just gonna… I'm gonna get a towel, okay?"
Jesse hums his agreement and he doesn't move to cover himself. He stays still in the same position, halfway on his stomach with his thighs wantonly spread and his cock nestled in the warm space between his stomach and the sheets.
Andrew isn't gone long and the towel he runs down between Jesse's thighs is wet and warm. Jesse bites down on his lower lip and pushes his face into the pillows, letting out a keening whimper. The towel disappears, but Andrew's fingers return, sliding in between Jesse's cheeks to rub against his opening.
"Do you want…?"
"Yeah," Jesse chokes out, eager. "Please."
Andrew's fingers disappear and Jesse can feel him shift on the bed. Then they return, cool and slick, rubbing a slow circle against Jesse's fluttering muscle.
"Like this?" Andrew asks, voice soft and lips against Jesse's shoulder.
Jesse nods and spreads his legs further, breath hitching in his throat. He's done this to himself, curling up on the bed and pushing his fingers in as far as he could, but this is entirely different. Andrew's fingers are longer, and gentler, and when the first finger pushes past the initial resistance Jesse keens low in his throat.
"Okay?" Andrew asks, pausing.
Jesse nods frantically, pushing back against the slight intrusion, because it's alien and weird but also so incredibly intimate and amazing.
"Yeah, you're okay," Andrew says fondly, pushing his finger in further.
He starts out slow and gentle, letting Jesse get used to the feeling, first with one finger, then with two, and Jesse breathes heavily into the pillows, rocking back against the slow thrusts with his cock leaking freely against the sheets.
"You feel so good," Andrew murmurs. "So amazing."
Jesse makes a helpless noise and pushes back harder, tries for more, because it's amazing and intimate and it makes him burn inside out, but it's not nearly enough. Andrew hums against his neck and crooks his fingers and Jesse shouts into the pillows, his entire body lighting up.
He loses track of time after that, pushing halfway up on his knees and rocking back helplessly into Andrew's thrusts, cock drooling a puddle against the sheets. Two fingers become three and Jesse moans helplessly, pushing back harder, wanting even more.
Then Andrew shifts, pulling Jesse up and back, until he's sitting on his heels with his back against Andrew's chest. The new angle makes him groan with how good it feels and Andrew's free hand comes up to cover his mouth, helping muffle his sounds. Jesse tongues at his palm, bites at it, crazy and overwhelmed and feeling so damned good.
His cock is an angry red line against his stomach, swollen and wet with need, so hard it doesn't even bounce when he rocks back into Andrew's thrusts.
"Touch yourself," Andrew breathes, and Jesse can feel him, hard again, against his ass.
Jesse is too turned on, he doesn't even remember how to, but he palms helplessly at his dick, pressing it up against his stomach, and whimpers through his nose. If it's possible to die from pleasure overload he's going to drop dead any second because this is too much, too intense, and he doesn't even know what to do with himself.
"God… Jesse, you're so… perfect, so beautiful… Jesus Christ, baby, just… come for me…"
Jesse's thighs are shaking and his stomach’s shivering and his cock aches against his palm. His back is slick with sweat where it rubs against Andrew's chest, and he's never been so exposed or felt so comfortable in his skin. His orgasm builds at the base of his spine, in his quivering legs and trembling stomach and when it finally bursts out of him in too bright, crazy waves, he goes eerily silent, forgetting how to breathe.
He comes so hard it hits the underside of his chin and makes a crazy mess of the already disgusting bed and he doesn't even feel embarrassed about it because Andrew keens against his shoulders and bites at the mark he left earlier and comes virtually untouched against Jesse's ass cheek and the small of his back.
Jesse is completely spent, almost totally out of it, when Andrew eases him back down against the sheets and gently pulls his fingers out. He doesn't stir when Andrew does his best to clean him up with the now cold towel and it's only Andrew's gentle prompting that makes him roll from side to side to let Andrew strip the sheets off the bed and cover it with new ones.
Andrew keeps asking if he's okay and he makes affirmative noises at the back of his throat because he's pretty sure he's never been so okay in his life. Then finally Andrew settles down beside him and Jesse curls into him, nudging his face into Andrew's throat and he falls asleep with Andrew's fingers carding gently through his hair.
--
Jesse wakes up before Andrew, curled up on his side with Andrew plastered along his back and he's pretty sure that's not how they fell asleep last night. He's sticky with sweat and what he thinks might be leftover come and the entire room probably reeks of sex. The discarded sheets are in a tangle on the floor, like a guilty conscience, and the sun seeping in through the blinds illuminates the hopeless state of the bed.
Jesse worms out from under Andrew's arm, ungracefully landing on all fours on the floor. Andrew stirs, but after a moment he settles down again, arm stretched out over the spot Jesse vacated. Jesse finds his pants on the floor and tugs them on, even though they are stiff in the front with dried precome, before rummaging through his bag for clean underwear and a shirt.
He can hear voices coming from downstairs as he skulks across the hall and into the bathroom, heart tripping as he locks the door behind him. Part of him wants to crawl out through the tiny window and run barefoot all the way home, but the other part of him, the slightly braver part that wants to be Andrew's boyfriend, reaches out to turn on the shower and strips out of his pants.
Andrew's still asleep when Jesse pads back into the room to dump his pants after scrubbing himself thoroughly clean with Emma's fruity body wash, and the room does reek of sex. He only hesitates for a moment, watching Andrew's adorable lax face, before he turns on his heel and goes back out into the hall.
There's a heady scent of bacon and coffee lingering in the air and Jesse takes a resolute breath and heads downstairs. He's spent more mornings than he can count in the Garfield-Stone kitchen, drinking tea and chatting idly with Emma's mom because he's always been the one to get up first, and he tells himself firmly that nothing’s actually changed, he'll still be welcome.
His cheeks still flush as he steps into the sundrenched kitchen, suddenly all too aware of his wet hair and the bruise on his shoulder that he's not sure is fully covered by his shirt. Frieda looks up from her place at the stove as he walks in; her hair, the same golden blonde as Emma's, is pulled back into a messy ponytail and a checkered apron protects her shirt.
"Hey Jesse," she says, eyes crinkling as she smiles. "Have a seat."
Jesse curls up in a corner of the long wooden couch that stretches along one side of the table, pulling his bare feet up underneath him. He aches distantly in interesting places and he flushes even deeper, twining his hands together in his lap.
"Did you sleep well?" Frieda asks, putting a steaming cup of tea down before him.
Jesse doesn't think there's an ulterior motive to her question but he still croaks out an embarrassed, "Yeah."
He realizes he doesn't even know if she knows and he takes a too quick sip from the cup, burning his upper lip and the tip of his tongue. Frieda isn't Andrew's biological mother, but he's been calling her mom since he was a kid and his relationship to his real mom is more than a little strained. It's only in the last few years, since Andrew moved to London for school, that they've had any kind of real relationship and even if Andrew rarely talks about it Jesse knows it's still awkward.
"Are you okay?" Frieda asks, ruffling his wet curls and Jesse nods quickly.
He is okay. Well, mostly, and he doesn't want Frieda to think that he isn't. She chuckles and pulls out a chair to sit down with him.
"It's okay," she says. "I know."
Jesse flushes, but still hazards a look at her face to find her smiling at him, eyes kind.
"You're a bit young, maybe," she says, reaching out to touch his wrist. "But you always were wise beyond your years and you make him happy. That's all any mother could ask for."
Jesse smiles, but he can feel it trembling at the edges. He feels too obvious, with his wet hair and puffy mouth, but she's still smiling at him fondly, fingers squeezing his bony wrist.
"Thank you," he mumbles, looking back down on his tea and this time when he smiles it's no longer trembling.
-
After breakfast, which is a whole lot less awkward than Jesse thought it would be, Andrew drives him home. Jesse would be fine with walking but Andrew insists and Jesse relents, even though he feels a bit silly about it.
"So… um… I wanted to ask you something," Andrew says when they pull up to the curb, looking adorably flustered.
"Yeah?"
"We're going to JT's summer house for my birthday and um… we'll be staying the night and I… uh… was wondering if you'd like to come… maybe?"
"Oh," Jesse says.
He hasn't forgotten that Andrew's birthday is in a week. It's one of those things he worries about when he can't sleep, but he also didn't actively remember it, which makes him feel a bit panicked.
"You don't have to," Andrew says quickly. "It's… but I'd like to have you there, if you can come."
"I'd love to," Jesse says, managing a smile. "But… uh… I'll have to ask my mom."
Andrew's face breaks into a grin. "Of course," he says, leaning over the console to give Jesse a kiss that steals his breath away.
--
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