Fic: Held and Holding (1/2). Used, Dan/Jepha, NC-17.
Held and Holding
The Used // Jepha/Dan // NC-17 // 19500 words
The second story for gigantic in the usedfic exchange.
Thank you to secrethappiness, hetrez, and the eagle-eyed and super-fast chiromancy for reading and responding to this story. zillahseye and eleanor-lavish also looked it over and encouraged me. Finally, thank you to 7iris for running this exchange. (I ended up not using the title hetrez accidentally gave me, but I want her to know that it still makes me smile.)
Warning for fully consensual B&D (bondage and domination) relationship. This is my effort at writing a kinky gay romcom. Set around the time when the band was beginning to put together Lies for the Liars. Any and all resemblance to the truth is purely coincidental.
---
Bert twists around and peers over the back of the couch at Quinn and Jepha. On the television screen, his princess crashes her kart into the wall and dies. "What about that dude?" Bert asks.
"The one with the--" Quinn performs a complex series of gestures, and Bert nods. "Yeah, dude, I love him," Quinn says. Quinn turns to Jepha and blinks, clearly trying to pull the guy's name out of his mindmeld with Bert. "Dan. Dan Whitesides."
"Oh," Jepha says. "Oh man, Dan's fucking awesome. Why didn't I think of him?" He pauses, thinking it over.
Bert says, "He was always around us anyway. And I don't think NTD isn't doing anything anymore."
"Yeah." Quinn throws his feet up onto the back of the couch. He leans back in his chair and pulls out his phone. "And he's fucking hilarious, it's perfect."
Jepha makes a face. "Give me your phone," he says, and holds out his hand. "Let me talk to him." Quinn hesitates, and Jepha says, "I bet I can get him to come."
"That's what they all say," Bert says, "But then he wants a goat in a lace teddy, and where are you going to get a goat at three in the morning?" Quinn brays with laughter.
"Shut up, both of you." Jepha waggles his fingers, and Quinn dutifully hands over his phone. Dan's name is already highlighted on the screen. Jepha hits the send button.
When the phone starts to ring, Jepha gets up and walks into the bathroom, shuts the door, and locks it. He rests his butt on the edge of the soap-spotted, hair-strewn sink, and braces his feet on the edge of the scummy toilet bowl.
Jepha's just figuring out what he's going to say in his message when Dan picks up. "Quinnalicious," Dan starts, "Are you calling me for more sex tips? Because I have more to give."
"It's Jepha."
"Jeph Jeph Jepha, Mr. Jepha-ree Howard," Dan chants, "You don't need tips. I'm driving, tell me stories."
"Where are you driving?" Jepha asks.
"Tar-gay."
"It's Targét," Jepha says, frenchifying the last syllable. Dan laughs.
"So you think. But I'm buying myself lilac bath bombs and some pretty underwear, I think it's Tar-gay for today."
"I can give you that," Jepha allows. "I like Targét's underwear collection."
"Me too," Dan says happily. Dan says everything happily, it seems like. Jepha's already feeling better, just talking to him.
At that thought, though, Jepha remembers what he has to ask. "So," he says, and then has to clear his throat. Jepha closes his eyes and starts again. "Have you been paying attention to music news lately?"
"You mean about Branden," Dan says. "Hey, wait a sec, okay? I have to put the phone down."
"Sure," Jepha says faintly.
"I like having you in my lap," Dan tells him. Jepha snickers.
Dan's voice gets distant after that, but he keeps talking, narrating what he's doing. "I hate the drive-up teller. I'm never close enough to the thingy," he says. "No one behind me, I'll try again." There's a brief silence, and then "Pin number time!" and a series of beeps.
Then Dan starts to sing. "Automated teller," he warbles softly, "make love to me." That seems to be the whole song; Dan just keeps repeating it, accompanied by the beeps of the machine. After a beat, Jepha sings along with him. He taps his sneakers against the rim of the toilet bowl.
"I'm back. And you learned my song," Dan says. He sounds pleased. Jepha laughs.
"It's a good song."
Dan snorts. "You're just sweet-talking me into joining your band."
Jepha chokes on nothing. "I--" he starts, and has to figure out how he wants to finish the sentence. "We," he tries, "We would like it if you could join. But your song was good, even if you can't."
There's about a minute of silence. Jepha focuses on breathing.
"How many pairs of underwear do you suggest I pack?" Dan says. "Because I have decided that all I am packing is bath bombs and underwear. Tar-gay awaits me."
Jepha covers his smile with his hand. "All the underwear you possess," he says, "If they're fresh from Tar-gay, I'll love you forever. Bert and Quinn are rank, and we're not even on tour."
"You want me to pick you up a few delicates?" Dan says, mock-seriously. "Maybe a little thong? With some appliqué on the front?"
"You know I don't want a thong. Thongs chafe my asshole," Jepha says, "But I like appliqué." Jepha digs his fingernail under a spot of toothpaste on the sink, levering it up. "I'll email you the details and contracts and stuff, okay?" he asks, and wipes his finger on his pants.
"Okay."
"Call one of us when you get plane tickets?"
"Okey doke," Dan says. "Shit, I'm gonna have to board the dogs."
"You can bring them," Jepha offers. It's practically his house, too, and Bert's crazy about dogs.
"Maybe," Dan says, "I'll probably bring them around after I get settled for a while. Whatever, okay, talk to you soon."
Jepha slides his phone shut quietly. He closes his eyes with the first burst of giddy disbelief. He had hoped for let me think about it, or I don't know, can you call me back later. Not yes. Especially not yes and offers of underwear. No matter how friendly Dan is with their band, Jepha wasn't expecting it to be that easy.
Jepha gets up. He unlocks the bathroom door and bangs it open, throwing up his arms to signal victory. Bert whirls around, and his princess crashes again.
"You already got him?" Quinn says, disbelievingly. "Did you have to promise sexual favors?"
"No," Jepha says proudly. "And he's bringing clean underwear."
"He was such a good idea," Bert says. Quinn and Jepha both dutifully give him a high five.
---
Getting Dan is a lot like everything else Jepha has gone through with this band. There's a point when it seems like they've gotten over hardest part, and now everything is going to go easily. There's celebrating -- two handles of vodka when they got signed, or finishing two handles of vodka and an ounce of bud when they get Dan -- and then there's dealing with a ton of fucking logistics when Jepha's got a hangover.
"Give me his cell phone number," Cathy says. Jepha reads it off where he scrawled it on the bathroom mirror. "I'm assuming he'll have some way of getting a fax?"
"I'm pretty sure they have Kinkos out there," Jepha says. He can actually hear Cathy's eyes rolling at his response. Jepha's head hurts, though, and his mouth tastes like the ass end of the shitty beer they drank last night, so he can't bring himself to be any nicer.
"I'll get in touch with him about faxing him the contract," Cathy says, like she was expecting Jepha to be an asshole. She probably was; she specializes in music law. "Joe wants me to make sure that you've already sent him the drum tracks for the previous songs."
"Uh..." Jepha says, and tries to remember how the fuck they would go about doing that.
Cathy sighs. "How about I tell Joe that you're working on it?" she prompts.
"Sure," Jepha says. "Should we just send them to him in, like, mp3s?"
"Christ," Cathy says, and Jepha can't help but laugh. Cathy snickers along with him, at least, so Jepha's probably not being too much of a bitch. "I don't know, ask Mr. Whitesides that."
"Okay." Jepha taps his feet on the edge of the toilet, and adds in a crash on the toilet paper roll. He taps it a little too hard; it jars out of the holder and rolls under the sink. "Shit. Anything else?"
"I'm assuming you want the standard contract," Cathy says, sounding distracted. "I've got it open here. Malika at Reprise said that you would be fine with it."
"Can you email it to me?" Jepha asks. Cathy gives a soft mm-hmm. "I guess so, I mean. It's really up to Dan."
"Right," she says. "If he wants any changes, I'll be in touch."
"Yeah," Jepha says. They both mumble the usual pleasantries to end the call, and then Jepha finally hangs up the phone. He puts the phone in the sink basin and covers his face. "Fuck," Jepha says heavily, scrubbing his hands against his face. He hasn't shaved in a couple of days, and he can fucking feel the bags under his eyes. He's getting old. Time was, Jepha would play a show this hungover, puke behind an amp and keep going.
"Hey, dumb bitch." Bert's voice is muffled through the door. "Quinn's going to get donuts."
"You know what to fucking get me," Jepha says. Bert makes a rude noise in response, but a moment later Jepha can hear him hollering Jepha's usual order to Quinn.
Jepha sighs heavily. He gets up, kicks the toilet paper back in the direction of the toilet, and picks up his phone, swiping it absentmindedly against the leg of his jeans. Might as well go make himself some tea.
---
Jepha volunteers to get Dan from the airport. Well, he doesn't so much volunteer as get elected: Quinn's hungover, and Bert can't always be trusted to go where he's supposed to be going.
Jepha spots Dan just after Dan clears the security barrier. Jepha climbs up onto one of the plastic chairs and waves. His car keys jangle in his hand. Dan breaks into a grin and heads in Jepha's direction.
Dan's got a black duffel slung over his shoulder, and his strides are long and loose. Jepha thinks that Dan looks a little like an ad in a magazine, but then Dan comes close enough that Jepha can see the way his eyes bug out and his mouth turns down at the corners. Jepha laughs at himself. A magazine ad, what the fuck?
"Claim six," Dan says, as he walks up. Jepha jumps down from the chair, and Dan leans down to hug him with his free arm. Jepha wants to wrap his arms around Dan's neck and press his face in Dan's hair, but he resists the urge.
"So, claim six," Jepha says, when Dan releases him. Jepha's face feels hot, for no good reason. They start to move towards the baggage claim area, but they're behind a couple of moseying tourists, and they're forced to walk slowly. "Do you want me to take your bag?" Jepha asks, and Dan smiles down at him.
"You've already gotten me here," Dan says, "No need for romance."
Jepha shrugs and smiles, but he doesn't say anything. He walks a little faster, slipping around the tourists, and gets to the conveyor belt before Dan. He's just standing there when Dan walks up, watching the bags circle around. "Did you put a tag on your stuff?" Jepha asks, and tips his head back so he can meet Dan's eyes.
"No," Dan says, "I'm a rockstar now, people might steal my bags." He laughs at Jepha's expression. "Yes, mother, I put tags on."
"Don't be a bitch."
"That's more like it," Dan crows. He ruffles Jepha's hair, ignoring his curses.
Dan's bags are plain black rectangles, just like every other piece of luggage on the conveyor belt. Luckily, they're still easy to recognize: they have My Little Pony nametags. "This is going to go really well," Jepha says.
"Glad you think so," Dan says.
"I know so," Jepha says, staring down at the prancing, apple-cheeked pony with Snuzzle below it.
"Oh! There's the last one," Dan says. He hefts a giant suitcase off of the belt like it weighs nothing at all. His arm muscles bunch up. Jepha glances away.
"This one has your present in it," Dan says. Jepha looks back to watch Dan unzip the front pocket of his suitcase.
"A present? What is it?"
Dan hands him a bag with the Target bull's-eye stamped all over it, and says, "No appliqué. I even tried throwing a tantrum, but they were fresh out."
Jepha opens the bag curiously, peeks in, and says, "Oh my fucking God, I fucking love you." Dan's gotten him Wonder Girl bikini briefs. Jepha stands up on his toes and gives Dan a kiss on the cheek, before he can think about it too hard.
"Fuck," Jepha says again, when he rocks back onto his heels. "And it's clean underwear, that's so great. We're, like, the dirtiest band of all time. Worse than you think. You don't even know."
"I guess not," Dan says, "But I get to find out!" He sounds excited, which is crazy. Jepha's so glad they asked Dan.
---
When they get back to the house, Zelda is sleeping curled up on top of Bert, who is sprawled in the foyer. There's a chalk outline around Bert's body, and blood leaking out of his mouth. Dan and Jepha both stop.
"Zelda, attack," Jepha says. She looks up and starts wagging her tail. Jepha sighs, picks up Zelda, and kicks Bert in the side. Bert yelps and sits up.
"Hi," Bert says to Dan. Dan waves at him. "What's up, man?"
"That chalk better come out of the rug," Jepha says sternly.
Bert lies back down. "It's my fucking house," he says. Jepha rolls his eyes.
Dan follows Jepha up the stairs to the bedrooms, his suitcases bumping loudly against the wood. Jepha first pushes open the door to Quinn's room, which looks like a bomb made of dirty clothes exploded in it. "Here's Quinn," he says.
Quinn lifts his head off the pillow and flips Jepha the bird.
"He's writing," Jepha tells Dan, and says, "Right?" to Quinn.
"Fuck off, asshole," Quinn mumbles. "Hi Dan. Lawn bowling later."
"Awesome," Dan says easily. Jepha purses his lips and shuts the door.
Jepha opens the next door to reveal a room with a perfectly made bed and a neatly organized desk. The carpet still has the marks from the vacuum on it. "Your room?" Dan asks.
Jepha shakes his head. "Bert's." Dan tilts his head, mutely questioning. "He only sleeps in there if Quinn's pissed at him," Jepha explains.
Dan looks like he's trying to review his memories. "Are they--"
"No," Jepha says, and shuts the door. "They both have girlfriends, and they're both dedicated to monogamy."
"But they sleep in the same room," Dan says, and laughs when Jepha takes a deep breath to begin explaining. "You've had this conversation before?"
"I've heard this conversation with anyone who's ever seen where they sleep," Jepha says.
"It's cool, then," Dan says easily, "I'll figure it out."
"Thank you," Jepha says, oddly touched. After a beat, he complains, "They're a pain in my ass. I'm supposed to be the freak in this band. I hate the competition."
"Duly noted," Dan says. He also makes a frog noise, but noises just seem to just be his way of punctuating conversations.
Jepha goes to the next bedroom, down the hall. He feels strangely shy about showing Dan his own room. It's not like it's anything special, or like Jepha's got anything sitting out that he couldn't show anyone, but he still hesitates before he swings the door open.
"Cool," Dan says, "So that's you."
"Yeah."
"If I get scared in the middle of the night, I know which door to knock on," Dan says. He grins.
"Well, you're right across the hall," Jepha says lamely. He edges around Dan's luggage and pushes open the door of the room that Branden used to take.
"Excellent," Dan says, and goes into put down his suitcases.
Jepha stands in the doorway, his hands shoved in his back pockets, while Dan drops his suitcases and starts to poke around. It's weird to watch Dan moving around in the space. Jepha associates it so strongly with Branden that he almost tells Dan not to move the desk from where Branden pushed it the last time he was here.
Branden's not in the band, though, not anymore. Jepha shoves his hands in his back pockets and takes a step back. "I'll let you get settled in," he says, and walks away.
---
That night, they all go into the rehearsal space Bert has in his basement, and they practice their older stuff for a little while. Bert's trying to take it easy on his throat, so he sits on a folding chair and listens to them make noise. He's got his legs crossed, and when they hit their stride he starts bouncing his foot along to the beat. It feels good. It feels fucking amazing, actually, like it hasn't felt in a while. After they've come to a stopping point, Jepha spins around to say something to Branden.
Dan's sitting at the kit.
Of course Dan's sitting at the kit.
"What's up?" Dan says, and shoves his hair back with the back of one hand.
"Let's try it again?" Jepha says. Dan shrugs and counts them in.
After rehearsal, Bert and Quinn are giggling together on the floor, and Dan keeps noodling around with his kit. Jepha goes upstairs to order pizza. "Thanks," he says, when they've confirmed his order, and he hits the button to end the call. When he turns, his world tilts and twists. The phone slips out of Jepha's hands and clatters to the floor. When he stops moving, Jepha's staring at the baggy ass of Dan's jeans. "Uh?" he asks.
"Did you get pineapple?"
"No," Jepha explains to Dan's lower back, "Because you didn't say anything about pineapple." He feels really vulnerable like this, with his ass up in the air. He tries wiggling, but Dan's got his arm folded securely across the back of his knees, holding him in place. Jepha stops wiggling and puts his hands on Dan's back, just above his belt.
"I shouldn't have to ask for pineapple. Pineapple is a blessing from Jehovah." Dan slaps Jepha's ass once, hard. Jepha gasps, and his hips jerk, but Dan doesn't seem to notice. He sets Jepha back down, his hands strong around Jepha's waist. "Call them back, pretty please," Dan says, and then jogs out of the room like it's nothing.
Jepha stoops and picks up the phone from the floor. He punches in the number for the pizza place again, trying not to think about it. His ass is still stinging.
"Pineapple!" Dan crows, when he opens the box. Jepha is getting tired of blushing. He sneers at Dan and takes his own slice of veggie supreme, no cheese.
They all end up wandering outside with their slices. They sit in a row on the edge of Bert's pool, with their pants rolled up and their feet in the water. Bert feeds limp slices of mushroom to Zelda when she begs; after she's had enough, she goes off to investigate the underbrush that clumps at the edges of Bert's yard.
It's a warm night, the air almost thick, but it's comfortable; it isn't until Jepha goes back into the air conditioning that he realizes how warm it was. Jepha shivers at the first slap of cold air, and the skin of his calves prickles where it's still wet from the pool.
Jepha strips once he's in his room, peeling out of clothes that smell of old sweat. His underwear has the sharp scent of piss when he sniffs them, and Jepha tosses them haphazardly at his hamper.
The Wonder Girl briefs that Dan got him are sitting on his bed, still in the Target bag. Jepha picks up the bag, considers it for a long moment, and then grabs his towel and heads for the shower.
Jepha goes through his full shaving routine, because clean underwear is a special occasion. He's feeling good, really clean, when he finally gets out of the shower. He pulls on the underwear, checks out how his dick looks under the fabric, pushes it around so it doesn't fuck up the logo too bad, and then wraps his towel around his waist.
He feels strangely aware of himself, wearing clean underwear that Dan bought him. It's a combination, probably, of the cleanliness and the gift. It doesn't quite turn him on, but Jepha feels like he's more conscious of his skin than he was before. It feels good, like an extra buzz on top of the shower.
When he gets back to his room, Jepha drapes the towel over the back of his chair and flops back onto his bed. He slides his hand down, under the waistband of his underwear, and cups his dick, rolling his fingers once over the damp skin. Jepha never really outgrew the childish habit of playing with himself; it's not really jerking off, just touching. Jepha tucks his finger under the edge of his foreskin to feel it rolling back, pulls gently on his piercings, prods at the thin skin of his balls with his fingertips. His knuckles distort the Wonder Girl logo. Jepha looks down at it and giggles. He's such a fucking weirdo. He rolls over, then, tucks his hands under his pillow and closes his eyes to go to sleep.
In the morning, when Jepha squats down to pick up Zelda after her walk, he feels fingers against his waistband. Jepha turns and gives Dan a questioning look.
"Wonder Girl!" Dan sings, and Jepha laughs. "They look good?"
"Yeah," Jepha says. Jepha's not expecting Dan to slide a finger in the back of his jeans and pull the waistband away. He squeaks. "Hey!"
"Just looking," Dan says, and lets go of the waistband. Jepha stands up and hitches his jeans self-consciously. He can't stop himself from watching Dan walk away.
---
Jepha loves Bert and Quinn. Sure, sometimes he feels like punching them out, tying them together, and leaving them in the desert, but that's part of loving them. Jepha knows that what he really wants is to keep them safe, and make them laugh. Jepha can't even begin to think about either of them in a sexy way. It's like imagining his mom and dad having sex; after a certain point, his brain shuts down to protect itself.
Jepha's known Dan a long time, been friends with him since practically the first day they toured together. He's seen Dan drunk and high, climbing a bus naked on a bet. Jepha should really be as horrified by the idea of Dan having sex as he is by the idea of Bert and Quinn. Jepha should be, that is, but he really isn't.
When Dan comes up and twists Jepha's arm up behind him, Jepha-- well, he nearly embarrasses himself. He very nearly moans. He definitely rocks into it, feeling the restraint, making the pain just a little sharper, before he remembers to laugh and protest.
Jepha calls Branden, because he doesn't know who else he could call about this. "We're really pretty good friends," Jepha tells him, "I texted him pretty often, and I saw him on tour all the goddamn time. I never wanted him to tie me up before."
"Oh, gross," Branden says, "I didn't need to know that."
"I know. I needed to say it. I keep thinking about it. He has--" Jepha leans off the side of the building, scouting around. "He has these really muscular forearms." Just saying it makes Jepha shiver and bite his lip.
"Sure, Jeph," Branden says brightly, "Married life is great. I'm really having fun touring with Rancid!"
"Whatever," Jepha laughs, "I had to make sure you didn't miss us."
Branden snorts. "I don't," he says. Before Jepha's stomach can finish turning he adds, "I miss you."
"Shut up," Jepha mumbles. "I miss you, too."
When he goes back inside, swiveling his phone shut, Quinn looks up and quirks his eyebrow. Bert's sitting with his back against Quinn's legs, practicing his trumpet breathing, steadily buzzing his lips. He doesn't look up.
Jepha mouths Branden's name. Quinn grimaces, and Jepha shoots him a warning look. They've had this conversation already, though, so Quinn just waves him off and turns back to his magazine.
Dan's in the kitchen, humming, his stupid muscular forearms busy loading dishes into the dishwasher. Try to stay away from him, I guess, Branden had said. Try not to think about him that way. Jepha wishes Branden were here right now, so he could witness just why Jepha's going to have such a hard time making that happen. Hell, even Branden would want to suck Dan off for washing the dishes.
Of course, if Branden were here--
Jepha takes a step back and changes course, heading to his bedroom. His head fucking hurts.
---
Three weeks go by. It doesn't get any better. Actually, it gets kind of worse.
Jepha doesn't like to make people uncomfortable. Jepha will make fun of groupies when they try to score with the band, and he'll mock an interviewer just as much as Bert, but whenever anyone starts to look really uncomfortable, Jepha stops having fun.
Dan's only been there a couple of weeks. He and Jepha are pretty good friends, but Jepha isn't totally sure of how Dan will react. If it were Bert or Quinn or Branden, Jepha would just say something: hey, stop hitting my ass, I like it too much. Quinn would shrug and wander away, Branden would blush and play nervously with his earl barbell, and Bert would make monkey noises, attempt to hit Jepha's ass twenty more times, and then offer to suck him off.
The point is, though, that they all know Jepha well enough to handle who he is. Dan's still sort of new to the band. Jepha doesn't want Dan to feel weirded out; he wants to keep things chill for as long as he can.
So Jepha forces himself to stop rocking into the arm-twisting, and he doesn't react at all when Dan slaps his ass. When Jepha walks in on Dan changing, Jepha says, "Fucker, I didn't need to see your cottage cheese ass," and backs out again.
But Jepha isn't a saint.
He's conflicted about doing it, obviously, but it's a tried and true strategy: if he jerks off to the object of his crush, he's less likely to do something desperate and clingy during the day. Fucking drummers.
Earlier that afternoon, when Jepha had bent over to get his bass at rehearsal, Dan had picked him up by the back of his jeans. When Dan had let Jepha down again, Jepha had wanted to turn around and bite Dan wherever he could reach, just to see if Dan would punish him. He'd laughed, instead, and flailed theatrically. "Don't do that, asshole!" he'd yelped, and punched Dan lightly in the arm when he turned around. He'd been so good.
Jepha slides his hand under his body and folds his fingers over the waistband of his jeans, right around where Dan's hand had curled. His weight pushes his hand against the mattress, and Jepha shifts until it's a little less uncomfortable. When Dan had picked him up, Jepha's jeans had tightened painfully around his dick, and he'd been briefly, dizzyingly out of control. His toes hadn't quite touched the floor, even when he pointed them.
Jepha presses his palm down over his dick. He lifts his hips, keeping the hand underneath him against the mattress by tensing his arm. The material of the jeans tightens over his dick, cuts into the flesh under his hipbones. Jepha tightens his grip, and the inseam of his jeans cuts up into his balls. The pain sings across his skin, makes his nipples tighten and his breath hiss through his teeth.
The first flush of hurt fades, and Jepha eases his hips back to the bed. He gets the fly of his jeans open, but he doesn't push them down, just loosens them enough to let him move the front of his underwear down.
When he's gotten his underwear out of the way, Jepha pushes his hips up again. The denim and the zipper both dig into the skin of his cock. It feels fucking amazing; his gut twists with a burst of nausea, and he rocks his head back on his pillow. Jepha uses the side of his thumb to twist one of the piercings in the head of his dick -- just far enough to twinge -- and he actually grunts. His dick pulses under his fingers.
He thinks of Dan holding him like this, with his jeans undone and open. Dan would laugh, Jepha thinks, he would laugh at Jepha's insults and attempts to struggle. Eventually Jepha would have to give up. His body weight would all fall onto that one point, the open vee of his jeans, and it would hurt even more. Jepha would have to give in to Dan if he wanted to get down. Jepha would have to beg, humiliate himself, because he wouldn't be able to stop it.
Jepha tightens his grip on the back of his jeans a fraction more and finally curls his hand over his dick. He jerks himself roughly, too much friction. Every time his hips twitch, there's a little surge of pain from the jeans digging into his flesh. Maybe Dan would tie him like this, lace a rope through his belt loops. Jepha would be dangling there, his toes almost brushing the floor, hissing and spitting at Dan, and Dan just standing there, laughing at him, maybe punishing him. Jepha thinks about twisting in place, helpless, wanting. Dan pressing his thumb over Jepha's throat, because he can, he can do anything and Jepha can't stop him--
Jepha whines when he starts to come, the sound high and broken in his throat. He pulls at his cock all the way through it, his hand moving in tiny jerks over the head.
His breath gets caught in his throat at the end. When he finally stops coming, he has to take a deep, gasping breath. He shudders, once, and then finally starts to float back down.
Jepha manages to shift his weight enough to get his hand out from underneath himself, and then he rallies his strength to kick off his jeans and underwear. He can't quite dredge up the energy to take off his shirt or wipe the come off his throat, though.
Jepha lies there quietly for a long time, his fingers laced on his stomach, staring up at the ceiling. He meditates on just how obsessed he's going to have to get before he'll man up, tell Dan what's going on, and potentially make everything uncomfortable.
Pretty fucking obsessed, Jepha decides, and finally takes off his shirt.
---
Jepha likes being at home. He gets sleep on his own bed. He takes Zelda for long walks in the parks near his house, instead of taking her for a quick trot around a trash-strewn parking lot. His friends all seem to congregate in L.A. more often than not, and coming home means he gets to hang out with them and party. It's pretty awesome to come home, Jepha won't argue that. But he'd much rather be on tour.
Jepha knows that other bands talk about tour burnout. There's a point during every tour when everyone wants to crawl out of their own skins, or maybe kill their bandmates. Jepha's laughed along with guys and girls from other bands when they joke about it, even though he never made the jokes himself.
It wasn't until late in their first Warped that Jepha realized that he's backwards from everyone else. Jepha does like being home -- sometimes he even misses it -- but he never burns out on tour. When they've been home for longer than a week, Jepha starts to itch for the road. Jepha loves the feeling that the bus is moving for him. He loves that something is happening, even while he sleeps. He loves that they're always moving somewhere, never stopping. Jepha likes the close confines of the bus, being sandwiched into the same space as his best friends. He loves the strange places, the weird food, the monuments he can see from the roof of the venue. Jepha loves playing music every night to people who think he's someone.
This time around, Jepha burns out on being at home after three weeks.
"Didn't you say we were going to jam this afternoon?" Jepha asks, leaning into the living room. Quinn pauses his game and looks back over his shoulder. Bert's head pops up, and after a beat, Dan's rises beside his. They all regard him warily. "You said you would jam with me."
Quinn says, "Don't feel like it." He unpauses the game.
"What the fuck," Jepha says, "Do you think we can just lounge around forever?" Bert rolls his eyes and drops down again, and Dan just watches him. "Fucking cunts," Jepha says, conversationally, and goes to get himself a pudding.
Jepha hears Bert tell Dan, "He gets this way when we're home." Jepha sighs. He does get this way when they're not touring, Jepha knows that he does, but that doesn't mean they don't have to write the fucking album.
Jepha misses Branden. He wants Branden here, with his steadiness, his sturdiness. Branden would get them moving, get them back out the door and on the road again. Jepha could lean on Branden. Jepha could expect Branden to back him up.
Like, when Jepha said something like, "Hey guys, didn't you say you'd jam with me," Branden would have agreed.
Jepha holds up his spoon. "Yeah, we did say we'd practice, didn't we?" Spoon-Branden says.
"Thanks, Branden," Jepha says, and makes Spoon-Branden nod before he asks, "Hey, wanna get high and play videogames instead?"
The spoon takes on a stern cast. It says, "You know I'm straightedge, dude. Let's just play music. Like musicians. Who do music for a living."
Jepha sighs, and the spoon sags in his grip. "Why'd you leave?" Jepha asks it. "What was the real reason?" The spoon is silent, but Jepha knows what Branden would say. You know it wasn't you, they told me to go, I'm too old-school for where the band's going anyway, I still love you like a brother-- "Yeah, thought so," Jepha says, and shoves Spoon-Branden headfirst into the pudding cup. He turns to go back to his room.
Dan is standing in the doorway to the kitchen, leaning against the jamb. "Hey," he says. Jepha opens his mouth. "I didn't hear anything," Dan says easily, and goes into the kitchen.
Jepha hesitates for a long moment, but there's nothing to say.
"We're practicing in an hour," Jepha yells into the living room, and gets a couple of grunts in reply. He goes to his room, sits down on the bed, puts his pudding on the floor, and buries his head in his hands. "Fuck," he whispers to himself, and then gets up again to get his headphones.
When Jepha goes back out, after an hour, Dan's the only one in the living room. He's sprawled on the couch with a magazine in his hand. "They're taking a nap," Dan says, before Jepha can get his mouth open. Jepha kicks the bottom of the couch, then kicks it again.
"Fucking-- fuck those fuckers," he says.
Dan looks up from his magazine. "Hey," he says calmly, and beckons Jepha over.
"What, jackass," Jepha says. Dan just beckons again.
When Jepha comes within his reach, Dan grabs his wrist and yanks him down. Jepha falls, cursing, and lands with his nose smushed into Dan's chest. "Calm down," Dan says, when Jepha wriggles. He won't let go of Jepha's wrist, and after a moment Jepha stops trying.
Jepha waits for what Dan's going to do, what he's going to say. Dan doesn't seem inclined to do anything, though; he just looks down at his magazine again. The room goes quiet.
Jepha shifts his weight. Dan squeezes his wrist, but he doesn't look up from his magazine, and he doesn't say anything.
Jepha takes a deep breath, then another. He brings his other hand up and puts it on top of Dan's fingers. "Can you hold both of them?" he says, trying to keep his tone joking. "Otherwise I have to go punch those two awake."
Jepha thinks, then, that he might have finally done it; he thinks that he's finally shown what he's like, and made Dan feel uncomfortable. Dan doesn't comment, though. After a breath, Dan opens his fingers and manages to curl them around both of Jepha's wrists.
Jepha can feel his bones shifting together under the pressure from Dan's hand. He can feel the pulse of blood where his wrists are pressed together. His breath slows down, and he can feel his pulse slow as well. His shoulders slowly relax. He's half-hard, of course he is, but once he shifts his dick away from where it could press into Dan's leg, it's not too distracting.
Jepha lays his head against his own arm and closes his eyes, reveling in the feeling of being held. It's quiet, just the rustle of Dan's magazine and their breath. Jepha can get up in a minute, go do his job and take care of the band. He never gets this, though. He just wants a second to enjoy it. He wants a good memory, something to hold on to for later.
He hears Dan murmuring, maybe a minute later. Jepha moves his wrists slightly, testing, and feels Dan's hand still holding them together. Jepha smiles and rubs his cheek against the uneven grain of Dan's t-shirt.
"Sleeping beauty's awake," Bert coos, and Jepha's eyes fly open. The room is darker than it should be, and there's a video game paused on the TV. There's a patch of drool under Jepha's lips, on Dan's shirt. Jepha gasps. He wrenches his shoulder when he sits up.
"I fell asleep!" he says, unnecessarily. "Fuck, I'm sorry." He pulls his hands out of Dan's grip and tries to push himself up.
"Hey," Dan says, and pushes him. Jepha's sleep-addled and confused, so he falls sideways easily, landing half on his front. Dan scrambles on top of him, flattening Jepha out on the cushions. Jepha tries to wriggle away, but Dan's too heavy, and he subsides after only a few more tries. Dan makes a comfortable noise.
Jepha's tired, still. He sighs, trying to sound put-upon, and closes his eyes.
"Don't wake him up again," Dan says above him, and Jepha hears Quinn and Bert agree. Jepha would express his surprise at how well Dan's managing them, if he weren't already falling back asleep.
Jepha wakes up again at three in the morning. He's on his side, curled up. Dan is sprawled out half on top of Jepha, his leg slung over Jepha's body, one of his hands still loosely clasped around one of Jepha's wrists. His breath is a little heavier in his sleep, little huh-huhs. His baseball cap is askew.
Jepha moves the hand that Dan isn't still holding and presses it against Dan's chest, then the dip of Dan's waist. Dan's shirt is cool from the air conditioning, but it warms under Jepha's fingers when it's pressed against Dan's skin. Dan doesn't wake up, and Jepha presses his cheek very softly against the neckline of Dan's t-shirt.
Fucking drummers, Jepha thinks. He closes his eyes.
---
"Hey," Dan says, ducking his head around the edge of the back door. "You want to come rehearse with me?"
Jepha pushes his sunglasses up and blinks in the searing afternoon sun. "Are they already down there?"
"No, they're mind-melding." Dan's fingers wiggle where they're braced on the doorway.
"So you just want bass and drums?" Jepha snorts. "That's-- that's like the back-up brigade."
"The rhythm section," Dan says seriously. "C'mon, school me on the new song."
Jepha snorts again, but he's already pushing himself up. "All right, hold your horses," he says, and follows Dan inside. Dan neighs happily and prances around in front of him, and Jepha laughs.
Once they're downstairs, Dan unzips his ever-present hoodie and actually takes his baseball cap off.
"Sometimes I worry that you're missing some of your skull," Jepha says. He makes a ballcap gesture when Dan doesn't get it. "The hat's always on."
"Huh," Dan says, and blinks at his hat. "Not always!"
"Nope," Jepha returns. He pulls the strap of his bass over his head and checks the tuning from this morning. "Not when you're playing. Anyway, what were you thinking?"
"That you're one to talk," Dan says. "You can't take yours off."
"What?"
Dan sits down at his kit, thumps the bass drum a couple of times, and rattles out a quick rhythm on the snare. "Your outfit," he says. Jepha looks down at himself and blinks. "The ink."
"Oh." Jepha laughs. "Yeah, I guess I can't. I just keep adding them."
"You'll run out of room."
"I'm saving the other ball," Jepha says lightly, and bends over his strings. "So what were you thinking, musically?"
Dan doesn't say anything right away. When Jepha glances up, Dan is looking at him, no discernable expression on his face. Jepha's going to say something -- probably just "what?" -- but Dan says, "Start playing something, I'll follow you in."
Jepha used to go and watch New Transit Direction, when they were on tour together. Back when Branden was still with them -- back when they were still the same band Jepha had looked at in a garage in Orem and thought this is it, back when Jepha floated along in a haze of good times and success and maybe occasionally worrying about Bert -- Jepha had gone and stood at the side of the stage when NTD was playing.
He liked their music well enough, but even when his band didn't need a drummer, Dan had been the real draw. Dan had been the player Jepha watched, thinking about how the kind of music they could work on if Jepha ever got the chance to play with him. Dan hadn't really belonged in that band. They were a little too sloppy, a little weak in places, and Dan was all taut, tense power.
Dan's shown that he still has that, when he's played their old songs. When they don't have a song to follow and a plan in mind, he plays a little differently; the power he has is still there, but it's not so obvious. There's something about Dan's posture that's more relaxed than usual, maybe. He curses when he hits something wrong, grinning lopsidedly at Jepha and going back to the beat.
They end up doing a lot of funk, since that's what's been on Jepha's mind lately. Dan really does follow Jepha's lead, but he adds riffs that Jepha doesn't expect, the rhythm changing things up. It's awesome to hear just the two of them; the low hum of the bass and the rattletapthump of the drums sound like two old friends talking.
Jepha segues into their new song, just to hear it without Bert's voice and Quinn's guiding chords. They're working it into a funked-out version when Bert and Quinn tumble downstairs, interrupting them. Jepha's hands stall out, and they falter to a stop.
"Dude!" Bert throws up his hands and makes a series of long, hooting sounds. "We're doing that, the G you just did. Quinn!" Quinn's already getting his guitar strap over his head. "Do it, before it falls out of their heads." Bert scrambles for paper, and once he's found that and a pen, he hunches over on the floor, pen poised.
Dan grins at Jepha over the hi-hat, and Jepha grins back. He's feeling the sweat running down his sides and down the crack of his ass for the first time now, the way his hair is sticking to his face. He doesn't even feel tired, just exultant. "Play it again, play it again, play, play," Bert chants, and Jepha obliges.
---
Jepha feels amazing after they're done playing, like his body is hooked up to a TENS unit, like he's one big exposed copper wire. They wrote a whole fucking song off of one of Quinn's riffs, after they finished funking up the first new one.
Jepha rests against the tiled wall in the shower. His muscles are barely holding him up. He grins into the spray of water anyway, then turns his smile against the wall.
When he finally stumbles out, a cloud of steam follows him. He tucks his towel up under his armpits, still grinning goofily at nothing.
"Jephers!" Bert slides up against him, scrabbling at the flap of the towel, and then yanking it off of him. Jepha rolls his eyes and lets him take it. "Ooh, very giving," Bert says, and takes a few steps back to launch himself at Jepha. Jepha catches him awkwardly, and Bert giggles wildly, shifting so he can be secure on Jepha's back. The towel drops to the floor. Jepha gives it up as lost. "I'm so fucking tired of everything," Bert mutters in his ear, kneading Jepha's shoulder with jittery fingers.
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah." Bert growls in Jepha's ear.
"You want to come fuss over Zelda?" Jepha offers, and after a beat Bert says yes.
"Zelda party," Bert tells Dan, when they pass him in the hall.
Dan stops and tilts his head. Jepha keeps moving; he's kind of naked, and Dan is still really fucking hot. "Is that code for something?" Dan asks, and Bert shouts back, "Fucking your mom's lousy loose snatch!"
"Hey!" Dan yelps, "She's tighter than you, McCracken!" Jepha turns a bit, laughing, to see Dan's face. Dan demonstrates helpfully, thrusting his hips, and Jepha's mouth drops open.
"He fits in so well," Bert whispers.
"You did good," Jepha tells him, turns back around, and hoists Bert up a bit before he keeps walking.
"That was me?" Bert cuddles closer, up against Jepha's back. "I forgot. I did do good, didn't I?"
"You did," Jepha whispers back, feeling obvious. Bert doesn't say anything, though, so Jepha's probably okay.
After Jepha puts on a pair of pajama bottoms, they play with Zelda, watching her romp happily across the bed and having her model her newest sweaters.
Playing with Zelda is the best time for Jepha with Bert. From Bert's conversation with his dog, Jepha learns that Bert hates that he's gaining weight now that he's off the meth and coke, that Bert (still) misses his ex, that Bert thinks Dan is too good to be real, and that Bert worries that he drove Branden off.
"You didn't," Jepha says to Zelda's adorable, patient face. She licks his mouth, then his left nostril. "He was going to go," Jepha adds, lifting his face.
"Yeah," Bert says, but he doesn't sound convinced.
"I loved him, and that wasn't enough," Jepha says, speaking to Zelda again. He can feel Bert pause as he takes in the information, and then start up again. "He was going to leave," Jepha repeats, and kisses Zelda's perfect little nose. She frantically licks his upper lip, and Jepha laughs.
"Okay," Bert says. The rest of the time he talks to Zelda in little-dog language, yipping and growling until she barks back. Jepha doesn't bother trying to translate; he figures Zelda will steer Bert right.
---
At lunch on Thursday, after Jepha throws a piece of tomato at Dan for some insult, Dan starts snapping coins at him. Dan's good at it; he bends his elbow, keeping his hand around his ear, and brings the coins up with his other hand like he's feeding them into a machine. Apparently he keeps his pockets full of change.
Jepha's never mastered the art of snapping coins, so he ignores Dan to piss him off. It's a nice, sharp pain, anyway, and it's made sharper by the fact that Jepha can't react. Jepha can press against the marks later, feel the slow, nasty burn of a deep bruise and remember not moving while he's bringing himself off.
Jepha takes a deep breath in through his nose, and focuses on not getting hard. "You done yet?" he says.
Dan hits him with another one, laughing. "You done yet?" he whines, in a nasally imitation of Jepha's voice. Jepha purses his lips so he won't grin. "No," Dan declares, and snaps another one.
It misses Jepha and glances off of Quinn's arm. "Ow!" Quinn yelps, and Jepha looks up just in time to see Dan's eyes widen. "Motherfucker," Quinn says, his voice spiking up in volume. Jepha winces. "Fuck! Jesus fucking Christ, you fucking cocksucking smackwhore!"
Quinn launches himself over the table, going after Dan, who scrambles up and runs away.
Bert shoves an entire piece of sausage in his mouth and chews, his mouth wide open.
"You're fucking dead, you slut!" Quinn yells, actually sounding pretty pissed. "I'm gonna chew your fucking eyes out!"
After a couple of minutes, Dan runs by again, dripping wet and hooting with laughter. Quinn's on his tail still, but he's laughing, too. Jepha unfolds and refolds the newspaper. "Horoscope?" Jepha asks, and Bert shoves another piece of sausage in his mouth before he nods.
---
They jam a little bit, after Quinn's finished exacting his revenge. Bert and Quinn follow Dan down the stairs into the practice space like kids after the Pied Piper, and Jepha silently reaffirms his decision not to make their new amazing Christlike drummer uncomfortable.
After they finish up, Jepha heads upstairs again to change his shirt. He's got the fresh shirt halfway up his arms when Dan walks in. "What's up?" Jepha says, pausing, and Dan walks right up into his space. He pokes his finger into Jepha's chest, bringing up a flare of pain. Jepha looks down at his chest, and sees the red-edged bruise where Dan's finger is resting.
"How come you didn't say anything?" Dan says. He sounds genuinely puzzled.
"I have a high pain tolerance," Jepha says easily. "You know that."
"Yeah, but." Dan wiggles his nose. "This is different from a tattoo." He presses the bruise again, and Jepha inhales and takes a step back. "Why didn't you say?"
Jepha opens his mouth. Apparently the time for awkward silences has come. "I have a really high pain tolerance," he says. He pauses, and clarifies, "Pain can be sexy for me, so I'm better at taking it." Dan's staring at him, his lips pressed together, and Jepha adds lamely, "Sort of, I mean." Jepha makes himself stop, then. He does not need to explain his turn-ons.
"What, like--" Dan does an air-whipcrack, his forehead furrowing.
Jepha laughs and nods. "Yeah, kind of like that." He shrugs and puts his shirt on, finally. "So, y'know," he says awkwardly.
He's normally not this weird about talking about it, but usually his reputation precedes him. Hell, after Kasha blabbed to the press, most people already know that Jepha likes to be bent over a table and reamed before they meet him. Jepha was kind of hoping that Dan would have heard something, somewhere. "I guess it's something to keep in mind," Jepha says, finally. "Or whatever. That stuff can be kind of like flirting, to me, so."
"Flirting," Dan echoes, like he's processing.
"Yeah," Jepha says.
"Huh." Dan stops, tilts his head.
Jepha fidgets, tucking his hands in his back pockets and pulling them out again. He says, "This is awkward, huh?"
"Nope." Dan adjusts the brim of his baseball cap. "I just didn't know. I'll be better now."
"Oh."
"Hugtime," Dan says, and they hug it out.
Jepha blinks when Dan walks away, stunned by the lack of drama. Dan's actually a part of this band, Jepha realizes. The realization feels weirdly like disappointment.
---
"I guess it's a good thing," Jepha says, picking at the rubber that's flaking off the soles of his shoes.
"I'm sorry?" Branden says doubtfully, after a pause. "Man, you need to get laid."
Jepha sighs. "I'll get right on that," he says, and Branden laughs.
They're none of them fuck-and-runners. Bert's the worst about falling in love, but even Quinn's never been one for one-night stands. Jepha remembers their first groupie; Quinn hadn't even realized she wanted to blow him until they'd already talked for half an hour, and then he'd gotten all grossed out.
"Me?" Quinn had yelled, after Jepha'd gotten rid of her. "I haven't showered in a fucking month!"
"I'd eat your dick," Bert offered.
"You're different," Quinn said. "And she doesn't know me at all."
Jepha had actually agreed with Quinn. Jepha's all for fucking around -- Jepha's had more fuck buddies than significant others, and early on he even took Bert up on a no-strings handjob -- but there's something kind of weird about sex with a stranger. Especially the kind of sex Jepha likes to have.
Instead Jepha bites the inside of his bicep while he's jerking off, hard enough that there are dots of blood showing under the skin when he lets go. It blooms black and purple and yellow-hearted, like a pansy, showing even through his tattoos.
---
Things in the house are steadier after that, at least. Jepha may be jerking off more than he ever has since he got out of puberty, and he may still be ogling their drummer, but Dan isn't beating him up anymore. He doesn't pull Jepha's hair, or pick him up, or slap his ass, or shove him against the wall and hold him there--
Jepha grunts against his pillow and comes, fucking his cock down into his curled fist.
He lies there, in his own jizz, and reminds himself not to be a freak. More of a freak, that is. He can do it. He pushes himself up, making a face when the sheets stick to his skin. He slowly pulls himself back together and cleans everything up.
When he goes out into the hall, Jepha hears the low thump of Dan's drums coming from the practice room. He detours to the kitchen to get a cup of tea, and heads down the join the guys.
Quinn grins at him, and Jepha smiles back. He likes listening to Quinn's noodling; it's like Quinn leaves open the spot for the bass, like he's waiting for Jepha to join in. Jepha sits down on the couch and sets his tea on the floor by his feet. He closes his eyes and tries to listen for where he'd put the bass, what notes he could thread under Quinn's. His hands twitch in time with the music.
Jepha leans his head against the back of the couch and taps his hand on his thigh, relaxing back into the cushions. It's lulling, but he doesn't worry about falling asleep. The thumping of the drums is too loud.
---
[ part two]
The Used // Jepha/Dan // NC-17 // 19500 words
The second story for gigantic in the usedfic exchange.
Thank you to secrethappiness, hetrez, and the eagle-eyed and super-fast chiromancy for reading and responding to this story. zillahseye and eleanor-lavish also looked it over and encouraged me. Finally, thank you to 7iris for running this exchange. (I ended up not using the title hetrez accidentally gave me, but I want her to know that it still makes me smile.)
Warning for fully consensual B&D (bondage and domination) relationship. This is my effort at writing a kinky gay romcom. Set around the time when the band was beginning to put together Lies for the Liars. Any and all resemblance to the truth is purely coincidental.
---
Bert twists around and peers over the back of the couch at Quinn and Jepha. On the television screen, his princess crashes her kart into the wall and dies. "What about that dude?" Bert asks.
"The one with the--" Quinn performs a complex series of gestures, and Bert nods. "Yeah, dude, I love him," Quinn says. Quinn turns to Jepha and blinks, clearly trying to pull the guy's name out of his mindmeld with Bert. "Dan. Dan Whitesides."
"Oh," Jepha says. "Oh man, Dan's fucking awesome. Why didn't I think of him?" He pauses, thinking it over.
Bert says, "He was always around us anyway. And I don't think NTD isn't doing anything anymore."
"Yeah." Quinn throws his feet up onto the back of the couch. He leans back in his chair and pulls out his phone. "And he's fucking hilarious, it's perfect."
Jepha makes a face. "Give me your phone," he says, and holds out his hand. "Let me talk to him." Quinn hesitates, and Jepha says, "I bet I can get him to come."
"That's what they all say," Bert says, "But then he wants a goat in a lace teddy, and where are you going to get a goat at three in the morning?" Quinn brays with laughter.
"Shut up, both of you." Jepha waggles his fingers, and Quinn dutifully hands over his phone. Dan's name is already highlighted on the screen. Jepha hits the send button.
When the phone starts to ring, Jepha gets up and walks into the bathroom, shuts the door, and locks it. He rests his butt on the edge of the soap-spotted, hair-strewn sink, and braces his feet on the edge of the scummy toilet bowl.
Jepha's just figuring out what he's going to say in his message when Dan picks up. "Quinnalicious," Dan starts, "Are you calling me for more sex tips? Because I have more to give."
"It's Jepha."
"Jeph Jeph Jepha, Mr. Jepha-ree Howard," Dan chants, "You don't need tips. I'm driving, tell me stories."
"Where are you driving?" Jepha asks.
"Tar-gay."
"It's Targét," Jepha says, frenchifying the last syllable. Dan laughs.
"So you think. But I'm buying myself lilac bath bombs and some pretty underwear, I think it's Tar-gay for today."
"I can give you that," Jepha allows. "I like Targét's underwear collection."
"Me too," Dan says happily. Dan says everything happily, it seems like. Jepha's already feeling better, just talking to him.
At that thought, though, Jepha remembers what he has to ask. "So," he says, and then has to clear his throat. Jepha closes his eyes and starts again. "Have you been paying attention to music news lately?"
"You mean about Branden," Dan says. "Hey, wait a sec, okay? I have to put the phone down."
"Sure," Jepha says faintly.
"I like having you in my lap," Dan tells him. Jepha snickers.
Dan's voice gets distant after that, but he keeps talking, narrating what he's doing. "I hate the drive-up teller. I'm never close enough to the thingy," he says. "No one behind me, I'll try again." There's a brief silence, and then "Pin number time!" and a series of beeps.
Then Dan starts to sing. "Automated teller," he warbles softly, "make love to me." That seems to be the whole song; Dan just keeps repeating it, accompanied by the beeps of the machine. After a beat, Jepha sings along with him. He taps his sneakers against the rim of the toilet bowl.
"I'm back. And you learned my song," Dan says. He sounds pleased. Jepha laughs.
"It's a good song."
Dan snorts. "You're just sweet-talking me into joining your band."
Jepha chokes on nothing. "I--" he starts, and has to figure out how he wants to finish the sentence. "We," he tries, "We would like it if you could join. But your song was good, even if you can't."
There's about a minute of silence. Jepha focuses on breathing.
"How many pairs of underwear do you suggest I pack?" Dan says. "Because I have decided that all I am packing is bath bombs and underwear. Tar-gay awaits me."
Jepha covers his smile with his hand. "All the underwear you possess," he says, "If they're fresh from Tar-gay, I'll love you forever. Bert and Quinn are rank, and we're not even on tour."
"You want me to pick you up a few delicates?" Dan says, mock-seriously. "Maybe a little thong? With some appliqué on the front?"
"You know I don't want a thong. Thongs chafe my asshole," Jepha says, "But I like appliqué." Jepha digs his fingernail under a spot of toothpaste on the sink, levering it up. "I'll email you the details and contracts and stuff, okay?" he asks, and wipes his finger on his pants.
"Okay."
"Call one of us when you get plane tickets?"
"Okey doke," Dan says. "Shit, I'm gonna have to board the dogs."
"You can bring them," Jepha offers. It's practically his house, too, and Bert's crazy about dogs.
"Maybe," Dan says, "I'll probably bring them around after I get settled for a while. Whatever, okay, talk to you soon."
Jepha slides his phone shut quietly. He closes his eyes with the first burst of giddy disbelief. He had hoped for let me think about it, or I don't know, can you call me back later. Not yes. Especially not yes and offers of underwear. No matter how friendly Dan is with their band, Jepha wasn't expecting it to be that easy.
Jepha gets up. He unlocks the bathroom door and bangs it open, throwing up his arms to signal victory. Bert whirls around, and his princess crashes again.
"You already got him?" Quinn says, disbelievingly. "Did you have to promise sexual favors?"
"No," Jepha says proudly. "And he's bringing clean underwear."
"He was such a good idea," Bert says. Quinn and Jepha both dutifully give him a high five.
---
Getting Dan is a lot like everything else Jepha has gone through with this band. There's a point when it seems like they've gotten over hardest part, and now everything is going to go easily. There's celebrating -- two handles of vodka when they got signed, or finishing two handles of vodka and an ounce of bud when they get Dan -- and then there's dealing with a ton of fucking logistics when Jepha's got a hangover.
"Give me his cell phone number," Cathy says. Jepha reads it off where he scrawled it on the bathroom mirror. "I'm assuming he'll have some way of getting a fax?"
"I'm pretty sure they have Kinkos out there," Jepha says. He can actually hear Cathy's eyes rolling at his response. Jepha's head hurts, though, and his mouth tastes like the ass end of the shitty beer they drank last night, so he can't bring himself to be any nicer.
"I'll get in touch with him about faxing him the contract," Cathy says, like she was expecting Jepha to be an asshole. She probably was; she specializes in music law. "Joe wants me to make sure that you've already sent him the drum tracks for the previous songs."
"Uh..." Jepha says, and tries to remember how the fuck they would go about doing that.
Cathy sighs. "How about I tell Joe that you're working on it?" she prompts.
"Sure," Jepha says. "Should we just send them to him in, like, mp3s?"
"Christ," Cathy says, and Jepha can't help but laugh. Cathy snickers along with him, at least, so Jepha's probably not being too much of a bitch. "I don't know, ask Mr. Whitesides that."
"Okay." Jepha taps his feet on the edge of the toilet, and adds in a crash on the toilet paper roll. He taps it a little too hard; it jars out of the holder and rolls under the sink. "Shit. Anything else?"
"I'm assuming you want the standard contract," Cathy says, sounding distracted. "I've got it open here. Malika at Reprise said that you would be fine with it."
"Can you email it to me?" Jepha asks. Cathy gives a soft mm-hmm. "I guess so, I mean. It's really up to Dan."
"Right," she says. "If he wants any changes, I'll be in touch."
"Yeah," Jepha says. They both mumble the usual pleasantries to end the call, and then Jepha finally hangs up the phone. He puts the phone in the sink basin and covers his face. "Fuck," Jepha says heavily, scrubbing his hands against his face. He hasn't shaved in a couple of days, and he can fucking feel the bags under his eyes. He's getting old. Time was, Jepha would play a show this hungover, puke behind an amp and keep going.
"Hey, dumb bitch." Bert's voice is muffled through the door. "Quinn's going to get donuts."
"You know what to fucking get me," Jepha says. Bert makes a rude noise in response, but a moment later Jepha can hear him hollering Jepha's usual order to Quinn.
Jepha sighs heavily. He gets up, kicks the toilet paper back in the direction of the toilet, and picks up his phone, swiping it absentmindedly against the leg of his jeans. Might as well go make himself some tea.
---
Jepha volunteers to get Dan from the airport. Well, he doesn't so much volunteer as get elected: Quinn's hungover, and Bert can't always be trusted to go where he's supposed to be going.
Jepha spots Dan just after Dan clears the security barrier. Jepha climbs up onto one of the plastic chairs and waves. His car keys jangle in his hand. Dan breaks into a grin and heads in Jepha's direction.
Dan's got a black duffel slung over his shoulder, and his strides are long and loose. Jepha thinks that Dan looks a little like an ad in a magazine, but then Dan comes close enough that Jepha can see the way his eyes bug out and his mouth turns down at the corners. Jepha laughs at himself. A magazine ad, what the fuck?
"Claim six," Dan says, as he walks up. Jepha jumps down from the chair, and Dan leans down to hug him with his free arm. Jepha wants to wrap his arms around Dan's neck and press his face in Dan's hair, but he resists the urge.
"So, claim six," Jepha says, when Dan releases him. Jepha's face feels hot, for no good reason. They start to move towards the baggage claim area, but they're behind a couple of moseying tourists, and they're forced to walk slowly. "Do you want me to take your bag?" Jepha asks, and Dan smiles down at him.
"You've already gotten me here," Dan says, "No need for romance."
Jepha shrugs and smiles, but he doesn't say anything. He walks a little faster, slipping around the tourists, and gets to the conveyor belt before Dan. He's just standing there when Dan walks up, watching the bags circle around. "Did you put a tag on your stuff?" Jepha asks, and tips his head back so he can meet Dan's eyes.
"No," Dan says, "I'm a rockstar now, people might steal my bags." He laughs at Jepha's expression. "Yes, mother, I put tags on."
"Don't be a bitch."
"That's more like it," Dan crows. He ruffles Jepha's hair, ignoring his curses.
Dan's bags are plain black rectangles, just like every other piece of luggage on the conveyor belt. Luckily, they're still easy to recognize: they have My Little Pony nametags. "This is going to go really well," Jepha says.
"Glad you think so," Dan says.
"I know so," Jepha says, staring down at the prancing, apple-cheeked pony with Snuzzle below it.
"Oh! There's the last one," Dan says. He hefts a giant suitcase off of the belt like it weighs nothing at all. His arm muscles bunch up. Jepha glances away.
"This one has your present in it," Dan says. Jepha looks back to watch Dan unzip the front pocket of his suitcase.
"A present? What is it?"
Dan hands him a bag with the Target bull's-eye stamped all over it, and says, "No appliqué. I even tried throwing a tantrum, but they were fresh out."
Jepha opens the bag curiously, peeks in, and says, "Oh my fucking God, I fucking love you." Dan's gotten him Wonder Girl bikini briefs. Jepha stands up on his toes and gives Dan a kiss on the cheek, before he can think about it too hard.
"Fuck," Jepha says again, when he rocks back onto his heels. "And it's clean underwear, that's so great. We're, like, the dirtiest band of all time. Worse than you think. You don't even know."
"I guess not," Dan says, "But I get to find out!" He sounds excited, which is crazy. Jepha's so glad they asked Dan.
---
When they get back to the house, Zelda is sleeping curled up on top of Bert, who is sprawled in the foyer. There's a chalk outline around Bert's body, and blood leaking out of his mouth. Dan and Jepha both stop.
"Zelda, attack," Jepha says. She looks up and starts wagging her tail. Jepha sighs, picks up Zelda, and kicks Bert in the side. Bert yelps and sits up.
"Hi," Bert says to Dan. Dan waves at him. "What's up, man?"
"That chalk better come out of the rug," Jepha says sternly.
Bert lies back down. "It's my fucking house," he says. Jepha rolls his eyes.
Dan follows Jepha up the stairs to the bedrooms, his suitcases bumping loudly against the wood. Jepha first pushes open the door to Quinn's room, which looks like a bomb made of dirty clothes exploded in it. "Here's Quinn," he says.
Quinn lifts his head off the pillow and flips Jepha the bird.
"He's writing," Jepha tells Dan, and says, "Right?" to Quinn.
"Fuck off, asshole," Quinn mumbles. "Hi Dan. Lawn bowling later."
"Awesome," Dan says easily. Jepha purses his lips and shuts the door.
Jepha opens the next door to reveal a room with a perfectly made bed and a neatly organized desk. The carpet still has the marks from the vacuum on it. "Your room?" Dan asks.
Jepha shakes his head. "Bert's." Dan tilts his head, mutely questioning. "He only sleeps in there if Quinn's pissed at him," Jepha explains.
Dan looks like he's trying to review his memories. "Are they--"
"No," Jepha says, and shuts the door. "They both have girlfriends, and they're both dedicated to monogamy."
"But they sleep in the same room," Dan says, and laughs when Jepha takes a deep breath to begin explaining. "You've had this conversation before?"
"I've heard this conversation with anyone who's ever seen where they sleep," Jepha says.
"It's cool, then," Dan says easily, "I'll figure it out."
"Thank you," Jepha says, oddly touched. After a beat, he complains, "They're a pain in my ass. I'm supposed to be the freak in this band. I hate the competition."
"Duly noted," Dan says. He also makes a frog noise, but noises just seem to just be his way of punctuating conversations.
Jepha goes to the next bedroom, down the hall. He feels strangely shy about showing Dan his own room. It's not like it's anything special, or like Jepha's got anything sitting out that he couldn't show anyone, but he still hesitates before he swings the door open.
"Cool," Dan says, "So that's you."
"Yeah."
"If I get scared in the middle of the night, I know which door to knock on," Dan says. He grins.
"Well, you're right across the hall," Jepha says lamely. He edges around Dan's luggage and pushes open the door of the room that Branden used to take.
"Excellent," Dan says, and goes into put down his suitcases.
Jepha stands in the doorway, his hands shoved in his back pockets, while Dan drops his suitcases and starts to poke around. It's weird to watch Dan moving around in the space. Jepha associates it so strongly with Branden that he almost tells Dan not to move the desk from where Branden pushed it the last time he was here.
Branden's not in the band, though, not anymore. Jepha shoves his hands in his back pockets and takes a step back. "I'll let you get settled in," he says, and walks away.
---
That night, they all go into the rehearsal space Bert has in his basement, and they practice their older stuff for a little while. Bert's trying to take it easy on his throat, so he sits on a folding chair and listens to them make noise. He's got his legs crossed, and when they hit their stride he starts bouncing his foot along to the beat. It feels good. It feels fucking amazing, actually, like it hasn't felt in a while. After they've come to a stopping point, Jepha spins around to say something to Branden.
Dan's sitting at the kit.
Of course Dan's sitting at the kit.
"What's up?" Dan says, and shoves his hair back with the back of one hand.
"Let's try it again?" Jepha says. Dan shrugs and counts them in.
After rehearsal, Bert and Quinn are giggling together on the floor, and Dan keeps noodling around with his kit. Jepha goes upstairs to order pizza. "Thanks," he says, when they've confirmed his order, and he hits the button to end the call. When he turns, his world tilts and twists. The phone slips out of Jepha's hands and clatters to the floor. When he stops moving, Jepha's staring at the baggy ass of Dan's jeans. "Uh?" he asks.
"Did you get pineapple?"
"No," Jepha explains to Dan's lower back, "Because you didn't say anything about pineapple." He feels really vulnerable like this, with his ass up in the air. He tries wiggling, but Dan's got his arm folded securely across the back of his knees, holding him in place. Jepha stops wiggling and puts his hands on Dan's back, just above his belt.
"I shouldn't have to ask for pineapple. Pineapple is a blessing from Jehovah." Dan slaps Jepha's ass once, hard. Jepha gasps, and his hips jerk, but Dan doesn't seem to notice. He sets Jepha back down, his hands strong around Jepha's waist. "Call them back, pretty please," Dan says, and then jogs out of the room like it's nothing.
Jepha stoops and picks up the phone from the floor. He punches in the number for the pizza place again, trying not to think about it. His ass is still stinging.
"Pineapple!" Dan crows, when he opens the box. Jepha is getting tired of blushing. He sneers at Dan and takes his own slice of veggie supreme, no cheese.
They all end up wandering outside with their slices. They sit in a row on the edge of Bert's pool, with their pants rolled up and their feet in the water. Bert feeds limp slices of mushroom to Zelda when she begs; after she's had enough, she goes off to investigate the underbrush that clumps at the edges of Bert's yard.
It's a warm night, the air almost thick, but it's comfortable; it isn't until Jepha goes back into the air conditioning that he realizes how warm it was. Jepha shivers at the first slap of cold air, and the skin of his calves prickles where it's still wet from the pool.
Jepha strips once he's in his room, peeling out of clothes that smell of old sweat. His underwear has the sharp scent of piss when he sniffs them, and Jepha tosses them haphazardly at his hamper.
The Wonder Girl briefs that Dan got him are sitting on his bed, still in the Target bag. Jepha picks up the bag, considers it for a long moment, and then grabs his towel and heads for the shower.
Jepha goes through his full shaving routine, because clean underwear is a special occasion. He's feeling good, really clean, when he finally gets out of the shower. He pulls on the underwear, checks out how his dick looks under the fabric, pushes it around so it doesn't fuck up the logo too bad, and then wraps his towel around his waist.
He feels strangely aware of himself, wearing clean underwear that Dan bought him. It's a combination, probably, of the cleanliness and the gift. It doesn't quite turn him on, but Jepha feels like he's more conscious of his skin than he was before. It feels good, like an extra buzz on top of the shower.
When he gets back to his room, Jepha drapes the towel over the back of his chair and flops back onto his bed. He slides his hand down, under the waistband of his underwear, and cups his dick, rolling his fingers once over the damp skin. Jepha never really outgrew the childish habit of playing with himself; it's not really jerking off, just touching. Jepha tucks his finger under the edge of his foreskin to feel it rolling back, pulls gently on his piercings, prods at the thin skin of his balls with his fingertips. His knuckles distort the Wonder Girl logo. Jepha looks down at it and giggles. He's such a fucking weirdo. He rolls over, then, tucks his hands under his pillow and closes his eyes to go to sleep.
In the morning, when Jepha squats down to pick up Zelda after her walk, he feels fingers against his waistband. Jepha turns and gives Dan a questioning look.
"Wonder Girl!" Dan sings, and Jepha laughs. "They look good?"
"Yeah," Jepha says. Jepha's not expecting Dan to slide a finger in the back of his jeans and pull the waistband away. He squeaks. "Hey!"
"Just looking," Dan says, and lets go of the waistband. Jepha stands up and hitches his jeans self-consciously. He can't stop himself from watching Dan walk away.
---
Jepha loves Bert and Quinn. Sure, sometimes he feels like punching them out, tying them together, and leaving them in the desert, but that's part of loving them. Jepha knows that what he really wants is to keep them safe, and make them laugh. Jepha can't even begin to think about either of them in a sexy way. It's like imagining his mom and dad having sex; after a certain point, his brain shuts down to protect itself.
Jepha's known Dan a long time, been friends with him since practically the first day they toured together. He's seen Dan drunk and high, climbing a bus naked on a bet. Jepha should really be as horrified by the idea of Dan having sex as he is by the idea of Bert and Quinn. Jepha should be, that is, but he really isn't.
When Dan comes up and twists Jepha's arm up behind him, Jepha-- well, he nearly embarrasses himself. He very nearly moans. He definitely rocks into it, feeling the restraint, making the pain just a little sharper, before he remembers to laugh and protest.
Jepha calls Branden, because he doesn't know who else he could call about this. "We're really pretty good friends," Jepha tells him, "I texted him pretty often, and I saw him on tour all the goddamn time. I never wanted him to tie me up before."
"Oh, gross," Branden says, "I didn't need to know that."
"I know. I needed to say it. I keep thinking about it. He has--" Jepha leans off the side of the building, scouting around. "He has these really muscular forearms." Just saying it makes Jepha shiver and bite his lip.
"Sure, Jeph," Branden says brightly, "Married life is great. I'm really having fun touring with Rancid!"
"Whatever," Jepha laughs, "I had to make sure you didn't miss us."
Branden snorts. "I don't," he says. Before Jepha's stomach can finish turning he adds, "I miss you."
"Shut up," Jepha mumbles. "I miss you, too."
When he goes back inside, swiveling his phone shut, Quinn looks up and quirks his eyebrow. Bert's sitting with his back against Quinn's legs, practicing his trumpet breathing, steadily buzzing his lips. He doesn't look up.
Jepha mouths Branden's name. Quinn grimaces, and Jepha shoots him a warning look. They've had this conversation already, though, so Quinn just waves him off and turns back to his magazine.
Dan's in the kitchen, humming, his stupid muscular forearms busy loading dishes into the dishwasher. Try to stay away from him, I guess, Branden had said. Try not to think about him that way. Jepha wishes Branden were here right now, so he could witness just why Jepha's going to have such a hard time making that happen. Hell, even Branden would want to suck Dan off for washing the dishes.
Of course, if Branden were here--
Jepha takes a step back and changes course, heading to his bedroom. His head fucking hurts.
---
Three weeks go by. It doesn't get any better. Actually, it gets kind of worse.
Jepha doesn't like to make people uncomfortable. Jepha will make fun of groupies when they try to score with the band, and he'll mock an interviewer just as much as Bert, but whenever anyone starts to look really uncomfortable, Jepha stops having fun.
Dan's only been there a couple of weeks. He and Jepha are pretty good friends, but Jepha isn't totally sure of how Dan will react. If it were Bert or Quinn or Branden, Jepha would just say something: hey, stop hitting my ass, I like it too much. Quinn would shrug and wander away, Branden would blush and play nervously with his earl barbell, and Bert would make monkey noises, attempt to hit Jepha's ass twenty more times, and then offer to suck him off.
The point is, though, that they all know Jepha well enough to handle who he is. Dan's still sort of new to the band. Jepha doesn't want Dan to feel weirded out; he wants to keep things chill for as long as he can.
So Jepha forces himself to stop rocking into the arm-twisting, and he doesn't react at all when Dan slaps his ass. When Jepha walks in on Dan changing, Jepha says, "Fucker, I didn't need to see your cottage cheese ass," and backs out again.
But Jepha isn't a saint.
He's conflicted about doing it, obviously, but it's a tried and true strategy: if he jerks off to the object of his crush, he's less likely to do something desperate and clingy during the day. Fucking drummers.
Earlier that afternoon, when Jepha had bent over to get his bass at rehearsal, Dan had picked him up by the back of his jeans. When Dan had let Jepha down again, Jepha had wanted to turn around and bite Dan wherever he could reach, just to see if Dan would punish him. He'd laughed, instead, and flailed theatrically. "Don't do that, asshole!" he'd yelped, and punched Dan lightly in the arm when he turned around. He'd been so good.
Jepha slides his hand under his body and folds his fingers over the waistband of his jeans, right around where Dan's hand had curled. His weight pushes his hand against the mattress, and Jepha shifts until it's a little less uncomfortable. When Dan had picked him up, Jepha's jeans had tightened painfully around his dick, and he'd been briefly, dizzyingly out of control. His toes hadn't quite touched the floor, even when he pointed them.
Jepha presses his palm down over his dick. He lifts his hips, keeping the hand underneath him against the mattress by tensing his arm. The material of the jeans tightens over his dick, cuts into the flesh under his hipbones. Jepha tightens his grip, and the inseam of his jeans cuts up into his balls. The pain sings across his skin, makes his nipples tighten and his breath hiss through his teeth.
The first flush of hurt fades, and Jepha eases his hips back to the bed. He gets the fly of his jeans open, but he doesn't push them down, just loosens them enough to let him move the front of his underwear down.
When he's gotten his underwear out of the way, Jepha pushes his hips up again. The denim and the zipper both dig into the skin of his cock. It feels fucking amazing; his gut twists with a burst of nausea, and he rocks his head back on his pillow. Jepha uses the side of his thumb to twist one of the piercings in the head of his dick -- just far enough to twinge -- and he actually grunts. His dick pulses under his fingers.
He thinks of Dan holding him like this, with his jeans undone and open. Dan would laugh, Jepha thinks, he would laugh at Jepha's insults and attempts to struggle. Eventually Jepha would have to give up. His body weight would all fall onto that one point, the open vee of his jeans, and it would hurt even more. Jepha would have to give in to Dan if he wanted to get down. Jepha would have to beg, humiliate himself, because he wouldn't be able to stop it.
Jepha tightens his grip on the back of his jeans a fraction more and finally curls his hand over his dick. He jerks himself roughly, too much friction. Every time his hips twitch, there's a little surge of pain from the jeans digging into his flesh. Maybe Dan would tie him like this, lace a rope through his belt loops. Jepha would be dangling there, his toes almost brushing the floor, hissing and spitting at Dan, and Dan just standing there, laughing at him, maybe punishing him. Jepha thinks about twisting in place, helpless, wanting. Dan pressing his thumb over Jepha's throat, because he can, he can do anything and Jepha can't stop him--
Jepha whines when he starts to come, the sound high and broken in his throat. He pulls at his cock all the way through it, his hand moving in tiny jerks over the head.
His breath gets caught in his throat at the end. When he finally stops coming, he has to take a deep, gasping breath. He shudders, once, and then finally starts to float back down.
Jepha manages to shift his weight enough to get his hand out from underneath himself, and then he rallies his strength to kick off his jeans and underwear. He can't quite dredge up the energy to take off his shirt or wipe the come off his throat, though.
Jepha lies there quietly for a long time, his fingers laced on his stomach, staring up at the ceiling. He meditates on just how obsessed he's going to have to get before he'll man up, tell Dan what's going on, and potentially make everything uncomfortable.
Pretty fucking obsessed, Jepha decides, and finally takes off his shirt.
---
Jepha likes being at home. He gets sleep on his own bed. He takes Zelda for long walks in the parks near his house, instead of taking her for a quick trot around a trash-strewn parking lot. His friends all seem to congregate in L.A. more often than not, and coming home means he gets to hang out with them and party. It's pretty awesome to come home, Jepha won't argue that. But he'd much rather be on tour.
Jepha knows that other bands talk about tour burnout. There's a point during every tour when everyone wants to crawl out of their own skins, or maybe kill their bandmates. Jepha's laughed along with guys and girls from other bands when they joke about it, even though he never made the jokes himself.
It wasn't until late in their first Warped that Jepha realized that he's backwards from everyone else. Jepha does like being home -- sometimes he even misses it -- but he never burns out on tour. When they've been home for longer than a week, Jepha starts to itch for the road. Jepha loves the feeling that the bus is moving for him. He loves that something is happening, even while he sleeps. He loves that they're always moving somewhere, never stopping. Jepha likes the close confines of the bus, being sandwiched into the same space as his best friends. He loves the strange places, the weird food, the monuments he can see from the roof of the venue. Jepha loves playing music every night to people who think he's someone.
This time around, Jepha burns out on being at home after three weeks.
"Didn't you say we were going to jam this afternoon?" Jepha asks, leaning into the living room. Quinn pauses his game and looks back over his shoulder. Bert's head pops up, and after a beat, Dan's rises beside his. They all regard him warily. "You said you would jam with me."
Quinn says, "Don't feel like it." He unpauses the game.
"What the fuck," Jepha says, "Do you think we can just lounge around forever?" Bert rolls his eyes and drops down again, and Dan just watches him. "Fucking cunts," Jepha says, conversationally, and goes to get himself a pudding.
Jepha hears Bert tell Dan, "He gets this way when we're home." Jepha sighs. He does get this way when they're not touring, Jepha knows that he does, but that doesn't mean they don't have to write the fucking album.
Jepha misses Branden. He wants Branden here, with his steadiness, his sturdiness. Branden would get them moving, get them back out the door and on the road again. Jepha could lean on Branden. Jepha could expect Branden to back him up.
Like, when Jepha said something like, "Hey guys, didn't you say you'd jam with me," Branden would have agreed.
Jepha holds up his spoon. "Yeah, we did say we'd practice, didn't we?" Spoon-Branden says.
"Thanks, Branden," Jepha says, and makes Spoon-Branden nod before he asks, "Hey, wanna get high and play videogames instead?"
The spoon takes on a stern cast. It says, "You know I'm straightedge, dude. Let's just play music. Like musicians. Who do music for a living."
Jepha sighs, and the spoon sags in his grip. "Why'd you leave?" Jepha asks it. "What was the real reason?" The spoon is silent, but Jepha knows what Branden would say. You know it wasn't you, they told me to go, I'm too old-school for where the band's going anyway, I still love you like a brother-- "Yeah, thought so," Jepha says, and shoves Spoon-Branden headfirst into the pudding cup. He turns to go back to his room.
Dan is standing in the doorway to the kitchen, leaning against the jamb. "Hey," he says. Jepha opens his mouth. "I didn't hear anything," Dan says easily, and goes into the kitchen.
Jepha hesitates for a long moment, but there's nothing to say.
"We're practicing in an hour," Jepha yells into the living room, and gets a couple of grunts in reply. He goes to his room, sits down on the bed, puts his pudding on the floor, and buries his head in his hands. "Fuck," he whispers to himself, and then gets up again to get his headphones.
When Jepha goes back out, after an hour, Dan's the only one in the living room. He's sprawled on the couch with a magazine in his hand. "They're taking a nap," Dan says, before Jepha can get his mouth open. Jepha kicks the bottom of the couch, then kicks it again.
"Fucking-- fuck those fuckers," he says.
Dan looks up from his magazine. "Hey," he says calmly, and beckons Jepha over.
"What, jackass," Jepha says. Dan just beckons again.
When Jepha comes within his reach, Dan grabs his wrist and yanks him down. Jepha falls, cursing, and lands with his nose smushed into Dan's chest. "Calm down," Dan says, when Jepha wriggles. He won't let go of Jepha's wrist, and after a moment Jepha stops trying.
Jepha waits for what Dan's going to do, what he's going to say. Dan doesn't seem inclined to do anything, though; he just looks down at his magazine again. The room goes quiet.
Jepha shifts his weight. Dan squeezes his wrist, but he doesn't look up from his magazine, and he doesn't say anything.
Jepha takes a deep breath, then another. He brings his other hand up and puts it on top of Dan's fingers. "Can you hold both of them?" he says, trying to keep his tone joking. "Otherwise I have to go punch those two awake."
Jepha thinks, then, that he might have finally done it; he thinks that he's finally shown what he's like, and made Dan feel uncomfortable. Dan doesn't comment, though. After a breath, Dan opens his fingers and manages to curl them around both of Jepha's wrists.
Jepha can feel his bones shifting together under the pressure from Dan's hand. He can feel the pulse of blood where his wrists are pressed together. His breath slows down, and he can feel his pulse slow as well. His shoulders slowly relax. He's half-hard, of course he is, but once he shifts his dick away from where it could press into Dan's leg, it's not too distracting.
Jepha lays his head against his own arm and closes his eyes, reveling in the feeling of being held. It's quiet, just the rustle of Dan's magazine and their breath. Jepha can get up in a minute, go do his job and take care of the band. He never gets this, though. He just wants a second to enjoy it. He wants a good memory, something to hold on to for later.
He hears Dan murmuring, maybe a minute later. Jepha moves his wrists slightly, testing, and feels Dan's hand still holding them together. Jepha smiles and rubs his cheek against the uneven grain of Dan's t-shirt.
"Sleeping beauty's awake," Bert coos, and Jepha's eyes fly open. The room is darker than it should be, and there's a video game paused on the TV. There's a patch of drool under Jepha's lips, on Dan's shirt. Jepha gasps. He wrenches his shoulder when he sits up.
"I fell asleep!" he says, unnecessarily. "Fuck, I'm sorry." He pulls his hands out of Dan's grip and tries to push himself up.
"Hey," Dan says, and pushes him. Jepha's sleep-addled and confused, so he falls sideways easily, landing half on his front. Dan scrambles on top of him, flattening Jepha out on the cushions. Jepha tries to wriggle away, but Dan's too heavy, and he subsides after only a few more tries. Dan makes a comfortable noise.
Jepha's tired, still. He sighs, trying to sound put-upon, and closes his eyes.
"Don't wake him up again," Dan says above him, and Jepha hears Quinn and Bert agree. Jepha would express his surprise at how well Dan's managing them, if he weren't already falling back asleep.
Jepha wakes up again at three in the morning. He's on his side, curled up. Dan is sprawled out half on top of Jepha, his leg slung over Jepha's body, one of his hands still loosely clasped around one of Jepha's wrists. His breath is a little heavier in his sleep, little huh-huhs. His baseball cap is askew.
Jepha moves the hand that Dan isn't still holding and presses it against Dan's chest, then the dip of Dan's waist. Dan's shirt is cool from the air conditioning, but it warms under Jepha's fingers when it's pressed against Dan's skin. Dan doesn't wake up, and Jepha presses his cheek very softly against the neckline of Dan's t-shirt.
Fucking drummers, Jepha thinks. He closes his eyes.
---
"Hey," Dan says, ducking his head around the edge of the back door. "You want to come rehearse with me?"
Jepha pushes his sunglasses up and blinks in the searing afternoon sun. "Are they already down there?"
"No, they're mind-melding." Dan's fingers wiggle where they're braced on the doorway.
"So you just want bass and drums?" Jepha snorts. "That's-- that's like the back-up brigade."
"The rhythm section," Dan says seriously. "C'mon, school me on the new song."
Jepha snorts again, but he's already pushing himself up. "All right, hold your horses," he says, and follows Dan inside. Dan neighs happily and prances around in front of him, and Jepha laughs.
Once they're downstairs, Dan unzips his ever-present hoodie and actually takes his baseball cap off.
"Sometimes I worry that you're missing some of your skull," Jepha says. He makes a ballcap gesture when Dan doesn't get it. "The hat's always on."
"Huh," Dan says, and blinks at his hat. "Not always!"
"Nope," Jepha returns. He pulls the strap of his bass over his head and checks the tuning from this morning. "Not when you're playing. Anyway, what were you thinking?"
"That you're one to talk," Dan says. "You can't take yours off."
"What?"
Dan sits down at his kit, thumps the bass drum a couple of times, and rattles out a quick rhythm on the snare. "Your outfit," he says. Jepha looks down at himself and blinks. "The ink."
"Oh." Jepha laughs. "Yeah, I guess I can't. I just keep adding them."
"You'll run out of room."
"I'm saving the other ball," Jepha says lightly, and bends over his strings. "So what were you thinking, musically?"
Dan doesn't say anything right away. When Jepha glances up, Dan is looking at him, no discernable expression on his face. Jepha's going to say something -- probably just "what?" -- but Dan says, "Start playing something, I'll follow you in."
Jepha used to go and watch New Transit Direction, when they were on tour together. Back when Branden was still with them -- back when they were still the same band Jepha had looked at in a garage in Orem and thought this is it, back when Jepha floated along in a haze of good times and success and maybe occasionally worrying about Bert -- Jepha had gone and stood at the side of the stage when NTD was playing.
He liked their music well enough, but even when his band didn't need a drummer, Dan had been the real draw. Dan had been the player Jepha watched, thinking about how the kind of music they could work on if Jepha ever got the chance to play with him. Dan hadn't really belonged in that band. They were a little too sloppy, a little weak in places, and Dan was all taut, tense power.
Dan's shown that he still has that, when he's played their old songs. When they don't have a song to follow and a plan in mind, he plays a little differently; the power he has is still there, but it's not so obvious. There's something about Dan's posture that's more relaxed than usual, maybe. He curses when he hits something wrong, grinning lopsidedly at Jepha and going back to the beat.
They end up doing a lot of funk, since that's what's been on Jepha's mind lately. Dan really does follow Jepha's lead, but he adds riffs that Jepha doesn't expect, the rhythm changing things up. It's awesome to hear just the two of them; the low hum of the bass and the rattletapthump of the drums sound like two old friends talking.
Jepha segues into their new song, just to hear it without Bert's voice and Quinn's guiding chords. They're working it into a funked-out version when Bert and Quinn tumble downstairs, interrupting them. Jepha's hands stall out, and they falter to a stop.
"Dude!" Bert throws up his hands and makes a series of long, hooting sounds. "We're doing that, the G you just did. Quinn!" Quinn's already getting his guitar strap over his head. "Do it, before it falls out of their heads." Bert scrambles for paper, and once he's found that and a pen, he hunches over on the floor, pen poised.
Dan grins at Jepha over the hi-hat, and Jepha grins back. He's feeling the sweat running down his sides and down the crack of his ass for the first time now, the way his hair is sticking to his face. He doesn't even feel tired, just exultant. "Play it again, play it again, play, play," Bert chants, and Jepha obliges.
---
Jepha feels amazing after they're done playing, like his body is hooked up to a TENS unit, like he's one big exposed copper wire. They wrote a whole fucking song off of one of Quinn's riffs, after they finished funking up the first new one.
Jepha rests against the tiled wall in the shower. His muscles are barely holding him up. He grins into the spray of water anyway, then turns his smile against the wall.
When he finally stumbles out, a cloud of steam follows him. He tucks his towel up under his armpits, still grinning goofily at nothing.
"Jephers!" Bert slides up against him, scrabbling at the flap of the towel, and then yanking it off of him. Jepha rolls his eyes and lets him take it. "Ooh, very giving," Bert says, and takes a few steps back to launch himself at Jepha. Jepha catches him awkwardly, and Bert giggles wildly, shifting so he can be secure on Jepha's back. The towel drops to the floor. Jepha gives it up as lost. "I'm so fucking tired of everything," Bert mutters in his ear, kneading Jepha's shoulder with jittery fingers.
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah." Bert growls in Jepha's ear.
"You want to come fuss over Zelda?" Jepha offers, and after a beat Bert says yes.
"Zelda party," Bert tells Dan, when they pass him in the hall.
Dan stops and tilts his head. Jepha keeps moving; he's kind of naked, and Dan is still really fucking hot. "Is that code for something?" Dan asks, and Bert shouts back, "Fucking your mom's lousy loose snatch!"
"Hey!" Dan yelps, "She's tighter than you, McCracken!" Jepha turns a bit, laughing, to see Dan's face. Dan demonstrates helpfully, thrusting his hips, and Jepha's mouth drops open.
"He fits in so well," Bert whispers.
"You did good," Jepha tells him, turns back around, and hoists Bert up a bit before he keeps walking.
"That was me?" Bert cuddles closer, up against Jepha's back. "I forgot. I did do good, didn't I?"
"You did," Jepha whispers back, feeling obvious. Bert doesn't say anything, though, so Jepha's probably okay.
After Jepha puts on a pair of pajama bottoms, they play with Zelda, watching her romp happily across the bed and having her model her newest sweaters.
Playing with Zelda is the best time for Jepha with Bert. From Bert's conversation with his dog, Jepha learns that Bert hates that he's gaining weight now that he's off the meth and coke, that Bert (still) misses his ex, that Bert thinks Dan is too good to be real, and that Bert worries that he drove Branden off.
"You didn't," Jepha says to Zelda's adorable, patient face. She licks his mouth, then his left nostril. "He was going to go," Jepha adds, lifting his face.
"Yeah," Bert says, but he doesn't sound convinced.
"I loved him, and that wasn't enough," Jepha says, speaking to Zelda again. He can feel Bert pause as he takes in the information, and then start up again. "He was going to leave," Jepha repeats, and kisses Zelda's perfect little nose. She frantically licks his upper lip, and Jepha laughs.
"Okay," Bert says. The rest of the time he talks to Zelda in little-dog language, yipping and growling until she barks back. Jepha doesn't bother trying to translate; he figures Zelda will steer Bert right.
---
At lunch on Thursday, after Jepha throws a piece of tomato at Dan for some insult, Dan starts snapping coins at him. Dan's good at it; he bends his elbow, keeping his hand around his ear, and brings the coins up with his other hand like he's feeding them into a machine. Apparently he keeps his pockets full of change.
Jepha's never mastered the art of snapping coins, so he ignores Dan to piss him off. It's a nice, sharp pain, anyway, and it's made sharper by the fact that Jepha can't react. Jepha can press against the marks later, feel the slow, nasty burn of a deep bruise and remember not moving while he's bringing himself off.
Jepha takes a deep breath in through his nose, and focuses on not getting hard. "You done yet?" he says.
Dan hits him with another one, laughing. "You done yet?" he whines, in a nasally imitation of Jepha's voice. Jepha purses his lips so he won't grin. "No," Dan declares, and snaps another one.
It misses Jepha and glances off of Quinn's arm. "Ow!" Quinn yelps, and Jepha looks up just in time to see Dan's eyes widen. "Motherfucker," Quinn says, his voice spiking up in volume. Jepha winces. "Fuck! Jesus fucking Christ, you fucking cocksucking smackwhore!"
Quinn launches himself over the table, going after Dan, who scrambles up and runs away.
Bert shoves an entire piece of sausage in his mouth and chews, his mouth wide open.
"You're fucking dead, you slut!" Quinn yells, actually sounding pretty pissed. "I'm gonna chew your fucking eyes out!"
After a couple of minutes, Dan runs by again, dripping wet and hooting with laughter. Quinn's on his tail still, but he's laughing, too. Jepha unfolds and refolds the newspaper. "Horoscope?" Jepha asks, and Bert shoves another piece of sausage in his mouth before he nods.
---
They jam a little bit, after Quinn's finished exacting his revenge. Bert and Quinn follow Dan down the stairs into the practice space like kids after the Pied Piper, and Jepha silently reaffirms his decision not to make their new amazing Christlike drummer uncomfortable.
After they finish up, Jepha heads upstairs again to change his shirt. He's got the fresh shirt halfway up his arms when Dan walks in. "What's up?" Jepha says, pausing, and Dan walks right up into his space. He pokes his finger into Jepha's chest, bringing up a flare of pain. Jepha looks down at his chest, and sees the red-edged bruise where Dan's finger is resting.
"How come you didn't say anything?" Dan says. He sounds genuinely puzzled.
"I have a high pain tolerance," Jepha says easily. "You know that."
"Yeah, but." Dan wiggles his nose. "This is different from a tattoo." He presses the bruise again, and Jepha inhales and takes a step back. "Why didn't you say?"
Jepha opens his mouth. Apparently the time for awkward silences has come. "I have a really high pain tolerance," he says. He pauses, and clarifies, "Pain can be sexy for me, so I'm better at taking it." Dan's staring at him, his lips pressed together, and Jepha adds lamely, "Sort of, I mean." Jepha makes himself stop, then. He does not need to explain his turn-ons.
"What, like--" Dan does an air-whipcrack, his forehead furrowing.
Jepha laughs and nods. "Yeah, kind of like that." He shrugs and puts his shirt on, finally. "So, y'know," he says awkwardly.
He's normally not this weird about talking about it, but usually his reputation precedes him. Hell, after Kasha blabbed to the press, most people already know that Jepha likes to be bent over a table and reamed before they meet him. Jepha was kind of hoping that Dan would have heard something, somewhere. "I guess it's something to keep in mind," Jepha says, finally. "Or whatever. That stuff can be kind of like flirting, to me, so."
"Flirting," Dan echoes, like he's processing.
"Yeah," Jepha says.
"Huh." Dan stops, tilts his head.
Jepha fidgets, tucking his hands in his back pockets and pulling them out again. He says, "This is awkward, huh?"
"Nope." Dan adjusts the brim of his baseball cap. "I just didn't know. I'll be better now."
"Oh."
"Hugtime," Dan says, and they hug it out.
Jepha blinks when Dan walks away, stunned by the lack of drama. Dan's actually a part of this band, Jepha realizes. The realization feels weirdly like disappointment.
---
"I guess it's a good thing," Jepha says, picking at the rubber that's flaking off the soles of his shoes.
"I'm sorry?" Branden says doubtfully, after a pause. "Man, you need to get laid."
Jepha sighs. "I'll get right on that," he says, and Branden laughs.
They're none of them fuck-and-runners. Bert's the worst about falling in love, but even Quinn's never been one for one-night stands. Jepha remembers their first groupie; Quinn hadn't even realized she wanted to blow him until they'd already talked for half an hour, and then he'd gotten all grossed out.
"Me?" Quinn had yelled, after Jepha'd gotten rid of her. "I haven't showered in a fucking month!"
"I'd eat your dick," Bert offered.
"You're different," Quinn said. "And she doesn't know me at all."
Jepha had actually agreed with Quinn. Jepha's all for fucking around -- Jepha's had more fuck buddies than significant others, and early on he even took Bert up on a no-strings handjob -- but there's something kind of weird about sex with a stranger. Especially the kind of sex Jepha likes to have.
Instead Jepha bites the inside of his bicep while he's jerking off, hard enough that there are dots of blood showing under the skin when he lets go. It blooms black and purple and yellow-hearted, like a pansy, showing even through his tattoos.
---
Things in the house are steadier after that, at least. Jepha may be jerking off more than he ever has since he got out of puberty, and he may still be ogling their drummer, but Dan isn't beating him up anymore. He doesn't pull Jepha's hair, or pick him up, or slap his ass, or shove him against the wall and hold him there--
Jepha grunts against his pillow and comes, fucking his cock down into his curled fist.
He lies there, in his own jizz, and reminds himself not to be a freak. More of a freak, that is. He can do it. He pushes himself up, making a face when the sheets stick to his skin. He slowly pulls himself back together and cleans everything up.
When he goes out into the hall, Jepha hears the low thump of Dan's drums coming from the practice room. He detours to the kitchen to get a cup of tea, and heads down the join the guys.
Quinn grins at him, and Jepha smiles back. He likes listening to Quinn's noodling; it's like Quinn leaves open the spot for the bass, like he's waiting for Jepha to join in. Jepha sits down on the couch and sets his tea on the floor by his feet. He closes his eyes and tries to listen for where he'd put the bass, what notes he could thread under Quinn's. His hands twitch in time with the music.
Jepha leans his head against the back of the couch and taps his hand on his thigh, relaxing back into the cushions. It's lulling, but he doesn't worry about falling asleep. The thumping of the drums is too loud.
---
[ part two]