Fic - Covered in Broken Glass
A long time ago tabaqui wrote a Cracktrailer Fic based off of a song that I love (it's actually still my ringtone, heh) Crash by Cavo.
So began Crash 'verse.
Part 1 - Your Breath in My Hands by tabaqui Jason Behr/David Boreanaz, Christian Kane
Part 2 - Beautiful Wreck by tabaqui Jason Behr/David Boreanaz, Christian Kane
In between, she asked me to write Christian's POV and I tried. For four long years, I tried. I just could not find his voice. Until I went back and reread both fics again. Closely. Paying attention to each line - to the subtext (thank you, Supernatural). Then last week, that country boy started talking in my head and would.not.shut.up.
I would suggest reading those two first. Again, if you haven't already.
And here we go ~ after way too long ...
Covered in Broken Glass
by Snow
Part 3
Christian Kane/Jason Behr
Christian Kane/Jared Padalecki/Jensen Ackles
Christian Kane/David Boreanaz
yes, the boy does get around
Cracktrailer/Crash 'verse
mentions of past child abuse - nothing explicit
Beta'd by Darkhavens, checked over by hurry_sundown and trishabooms - Thank you!!
It had always been easy to give into the idea of hate, to the thoughts of jealousy. To let everyone (and Dave) think that he was simply envious of their fucked up relationship, if that was what it could be called. To let them all assume that he was just resentful and angry at not being the one that Dave had always pulled from the fire. that Dave had always bailed out and made up alibis with and fucking lied for since they had been fifteen and seventeen and twenty.
And even when school was over and Dave went up north to college. Jason drove out of town on that damn monster Harley and Christian went to work full time at the feed store - he never tried to correct the story that he’d had it in for Jason way before everyone had found out what the boy’s father had done, after he’d died. Christian had never really cared what anyone in this small, stupid town had thought about him, not after growing up under his own father’s shadow.
That was always when the best secrets came out, always when the juiciest gossip could be found in Jolie’s Salon or the barber shop on Maple, at the checkout in the Piggly Wiggly or around the Gaslight bar - after someone either passed or, as Christian’s father, was incarcerated for life at the State Pen.
But Christian had never hated Jason.
Not even close.
And especially not at first.
Jason had fit right into their group from the start. He was too skinny, his hair was cut too short, and his parents were two of the proudest, newest Baptists - but no one held that against Jason. They weren’t in town more than a week before most everyone else would do whatever they could to avoid being trapped into talking to either of Jason’s parents in public, his mother, with her clutched bible and judging glares; his father, too friendly in a way that no one could comfortably articulate.
But Jason was the first of them to ride his bike down Suicide Hill after a rainstorm that made the red dirt into the slickest, slipperiest, snottiest mud ever. They’d all hold their breath as he whooped and laughed and screamed his way down past the stand of trees that would break a leg or an arm or a neck without losing a leaf, and then, after the rest of them made their way without death or broken limbs, they’d sit in the shade and smoke an entire pack of Marlboro Reds, daring each other to be the one that didn’t puke.
When Dave was tied up at football practice for hours after school and every Saturday morning until noon, Jason and Christian would hang out. Occasionally they’d go watch, but most times they’d hitch a ride out to the lake. A stolen sixer split between them, a joint or the rare tab of acid they’d pooled their cash from mowing lawns or picking apples and peaches to buy from the seniors back behind the dumpster at school. Christian would bring his guitar and play every song he knew... and sometimes he’d play a couple that he’d written, a couple that no one else had ever heard before, because he knew that Jason would not laugh at him.
Jason and Christian would get drunk and get high and they’d spend hours talking, dreaming out loud about where they wanted to be, what they wanted to do, how they wanted to live. And as they got older, they stopped talking so much and started kissing. Slow at first, careful and scared, although Christian already did this with Dave, and he thought, from the way Jason knew exactly how to suck his cock from that first hot, hazy, humid afternoon under the willow tree at the lake, that Jason must’ve done that before too.
‘Course that was before he (before everyone) knew about Jason’s daddy.
They were cautious with each other, as if even then, even so young, they both knew that there was something else between them, something that wasn’t just the fumbling play of the horny and bored. Christian would run his palms flat over Jason’s broad, smooth chest and bite at the boy’s nipples until they were swollen and peaked. Until he’d feel Jason arching up under him, his spine bowed in the dirt, his hands pulling at Christian’s arms and his hair, Jason’s voice gone all breathy and low as he begged Christian to do... something. Anything. To take him higher, to make him come. To come with him.
Soon there wasn’t anything that Jason and Christian hadn’t done to each other, with each other. Kissing and touching, tasting and sucking and fucking with fingers and cocks and fists. Fighting and laughing and teasing, getting so stoned or drunk that neither one of them made it home, and they’d sleep out under the stars in a field of clover and hay. And then Dave would find them, curled around each other to keep warm, and he’d wake them up, put them in his car and drive them back into town and Jason’s parents (because Christian’s mom didn’t care if he ever came home) and take the blame for Jason. With his wide shoulders and ducked head even Jason’s parents couldn’t resist Dave’s southern charm and gracious manners, and the fact that his daddy owned the bill on their house and car didn’t hurt one little bit.
The best times that Christian could remember though, were when all three of them were together. Playing football at the lake and swimming until they were exhausted. Sleeping in the sun and then walking home, burnt and tired and thirsty. Drinking beer behind the Gaslight in the dark with all the other kids that weren’t quite twenty-one yet, because Russ wasn’t going to chance his liquor license by letting anyone in without an ID, but he’d sell ice cold beer out the back door of the kitchen without a second thought. They’d listen to the bands play as the lightning bugs buzzed around them, and the boys would fist fight for bragging rights or pussy or blow jobs under the single security light that hung way up on a pole in the parking lot.
The summer before Jason’s dad was buried had been the best. Jason kept telling Christian about the big ass ‘cycle he was going to buy, the one he’d been saving up for forever. The way he was gonna drive out of this town and never look back. And Christian didn’t laugh at all when Jason looked over at him in the shadow of that willow tree, the light sparkling in his golden brown eyes when he asked Christian to go with him, and Christian didn’t hesitate for a second. As if there was anything keeping him here in this place, in this town.
”Yeah, fuck yeah, Jay - you know I will.” Christian would whisper, his eyes closing as he kissed Jason. Because even as much as he absolutely and completely adored Dave, he knew he belonged with Jason.
Dave was gonna get out of this town anyhow - going to ride out on the shoulders of everyone with a fucking parade and a scholarship - and Christian would be more than happy to hold onto Jason’s hips on the back of his bike, with a full pack of cigs and his guitar and nothing but the open road in front of them both. Christian and Jason had a connection that went deeper and tied them closer than just friends... just boys... just lovers.
And then everything changed the night that Jason’s father was killed in a sting at an illegal back room poker game. The state cops blazed in, guns firing as if they’d already found out that the games were a cover for a ring of pedophiliacs, though nobody seemed to think that there might be kids there at the time. The run down house was riddled with bullets, and grenades of tear gas were tossed in with flash bombs. Thirty minutes later, as the dead bodies were pulled out and laid on the lawn, Jason was led out in front of more than half the entire town, all gathered in the dark to see something besides another meth lab bust, or a group of prostitutes and truckers being handcuffed.
Jason went from being the boy that Christian wanted to run away with, to the drug addicted, insanely violent man that he couldn’t stand to be around. That he couldn’t wait to see leave. If Jason wasn’t getting high, he was getting drunk, and if he wasn’t able to do either of those, then he was fucking a random stranger or sucking their dick, or fighting in alleys and basements and barns for cash while meth heads and crackers would bet on him like a feral dog that always won.
Christian gave up trying to help Jason, but Dave never did. Christian had been hit too many times trying to pick Jason up off the floor, trying to pull him out of a bar, trying to drag him away from a fight. Dave just waded in and fucking helped Jason. Helped him drink more or shoot up more or smoke more or fight more, and then Dave would carry him out and fuck him senseless, and Christian had seen it all over and over and over again until it was too much, Until he was pretty fucking sure that the boy he’d known so damn well was gone.And what hurt the most was that Christian couldn’t even talk to Dave about it.
He would bring up Jason and Dave would shut it down, as if just to question why Dave was rewarding Jason’s spiral down with his fucking cock and hands and tongue and teeth was too stupid to ask. The one time he actually got Dave to talk about it, they’d ended up beating each other bloody, so Christian only mentioned Jason’s name to let Dave know that Jason was about to be killed out at the Gaslight by a crowd that he’d pissed off with his constantly running mouth, or that he’d passed out in the parking lot at the truck stop again.
Then finally - thankfully - they both left.
Dave to his college and Jason to the winds. Christian didn’t see either of them off and he didn’t see either of them for almost a year.
By then, Christian had forgotten how soft Jason’s lips were, how tight his ass was around Christian’s cock. He hadn’t thought about the perfect sounds Jason made when Christian fucked him. He hadn’t thought about Jason’s wide smile and his incredible dreams, his reckless - fearless - spirit.
He didn’t think about Dave - ever. Not the way the big man would slam him up against a wall and kiss him until he was about to pass out from lack of oxygen. He didn’t remember the way Dave moaned when Christian sucked his cock, or the way Dave’s hands fit on either side of his head. The way Dave would whisper his name with his eyes closed. ’Come up here, Kane... come up here and let me inside you, baby...‘
Nope, Christian didn’t think about Dave or Jason at all.
Christian had made some new friends. He had his band and his job. He had a place just outside of the town limits, a small house on a few acres that was miles from anything - from everything and everyone. Something that was truly all his own. He had a big black Shepherd that rode in the front seat of his Bronco and ate entire bags of dog food that Christian would just cut open on his front porch.
And Christian might’ve trained the huge dog to piss on motorcycles.
That summer, Dave came home on a couple weeks of summer break from college and Christian didn’t care. He went about his life without reaching for Dave’s zippo that he’d left in Christian’s Bronco. Christian hadn’t refilled it since he’d stopped smoking, and he only thought about it when he had a joint and a long drive.
Of course, everyone in their little town couldn’t fucking wait to tell Christian - as if he existed on an island by himself, as if he counted on everyone to let him know what the fuck was going on - and Christian ground his teeth and clenched his fists and tried his hardest to not fucking deck every asshole that couldn’t fucking wait to tell him that Dave was home, or that Jason was riding his big ass bike down Main today. He really tried.
Christian stopped at Lacey’s for breakfast even though, maybe because he’d seen Jason’s bike in the parking lot. He waited while the Shepherd peed all over the front tire, then walked in and felt the stares as the old men turned with the jingle of the bell. Christian ignored them, moved to where Jason sat and pulled out the stool next to him.
He took a deep breath and, even through the grease and age and pine-sol that coated the diner, Christian thought he could smell Jason’s skin. His mind took him back to when he could taste it, when he could feel Jason’s body under his open palms, back to when Jason would smile at him when they met up at the diner like this, just like this.
Christian turned his coffee cup over to let Lacey know that he needed it filled and glanced over at Jason. His fingers went too tight on the cup’s chipped handle and he had to look anywhere - everywhere else.
Christ, Jason was thin. His face was wind burnt and tan, but not healthy. His cheeks were too hollow, his jaw too prominent. A big purple bruise colored the left side of Jason’s throat, same as the dark circles under his eyes. Christian wanted to lean in and touch Jason, but he knew it would only be welcomed with a punch and a snap of Jason’s teeth. Jason’s hair looked dry and dirty, hopelessly matted like some homeless pup left on the side of the road, and his eyes were bloodshot and dull and... so fucking empty.
”Miss me, Kane?”
It was all Christian could do to not grab Jason - his friend, his lover - drag him straight to his bronco, toss him over his shoulder if need be, and drive to the county general emergency room and commit him to the psych ward right now, this morning. But then Jason was snarling with a smirk, as he always did, tossing cash on the counter and sauntering out, and Christian sat, vibrating with rage until he couldn’t hear the engine of that big bike anymore, then he got up and went to the feed store without eating any breakfast at all.
He spent the day throwing a hundred seventy-five pound bags of horse chow from one pallet to another. Moving the auction steers from the holding pen to the sale barn and mucking out the stalls of the few horses they were holding for buyers to pick up before the weekend. Christian couldn’t remember talking to a single person for over nine and a half solid hours - but he did notice that everyone stayed completely out of his way.
Christian went from work straight back to his house. He didn’t have a gig for another week, and the band boys wouldn’t be around town for three more days. He was shaking with hunger by the time he got home and came in the house without closing the door behind him. Throwing some meat from the freezer into a heavy cast-iron frying pan that sat on the stove and tossing in a couple different spices before covering it with a lid, Christian pulled a beer out of the fridge and unscrewed the cap. He took a long drink, leaned back against the sink with his eyes closed.
’Fucking Jason ... fucking Dave. Fucking hell. Fuck. Them both.’
Christian growled to himself, feeling like his nerves were dancing under his skin. His fingers clenched into fists and he couldn’t stand still, couldn't take a breath, couldn’t relax at all, and then, as if on cue, Christian heard his front door slam closed and two different sets of boots came stomping into his kitchen.
Christian ran his tongue over his bottom lip and opened his eyes. Jared and Jensen stood in front of him, his two new friends. They’d been in town for less than a year or so, Jensen worked at Dave’s dad’s oil shop and Jared had picked up a job at the feed store with Christian. They were inseparable, but they both seemed to have developed a soft spot for Christian. It didn’t hurt that he fit perfectly between the two taller men, and that they enjoyed getting him so wound up that one of them would have to hold Christian’s arms down while the other sucked him off before either of them would get fucked.
“Cooking enough for all of us, Kane?” Jensen said as he moved straight over to where Christian stood. It was obvious that they’d both heard about Jason and Christian meeting at the diner. Jared and Jensen didn’t know Jason, but in a town this size, there were no secrets.
“I brought beer and some whiskey, heard you might need a drink tonight.” Jared was filling the fridge with a box of bottled beer, pulling two out and opening them as he book ended Christian’s other side, thighs to thighs, the toes of their boots pushing up against Christian’s.
“Don’t you two have your own place?” Christian bristled, but his growl was without heat.
They knew he hated it when they crowded up against him like this. He knew they knew it, but it never stopped them from just walking in and taking his personal space as if it was theirs to begin with - as it was with the beer they drank, the bed they slept in, the hot water they used up every damn time they were in his house. They both seemed to have a radar for Christian - for when he was pissed off or feeling low, or just needed to be distracted - and they would be there in his house, or showing up at the Gaslight near the end of a show, to make sure that he got home okay when he’d drunk his way through two bottles of Jack and was falling face down as soon as the music ended.
“C'mon, pretty boy.” Christian let Jared take the empty beer from his fingers. “You know you need us.”
Jared was built like a fucking tree. He towered over Christian in a way that David never had. There was never any sexual threat in his posture, never any sensual intimidation,Jared was just there, with his big smile, his big hands, his big... cock, and Jensen was his other half - serious intensity and pure desire when Jared was playful and joking and all about the teasing. Jensen’s eyes were as green as Christian’s were blue. His lips just as soft, his body just as hard. His mind just as fucking lustful.
No, Christian never really minded when they came over, and he didn’t really care how long they stayed.
Jensen tilted his head to Jared and they both pulled Christian’s t-shirt up and off. “You go clean up with Jared, baby. I’ll finish dinner for us. Then we’ll eat, and then we’ll fuck.”
Christian was already toeing off his boots, slapping away Jared’s hands with irritated jerks of his arms that didn’t even slow the bigger man down for a second. Hair fell over his face and he shook his head to clear his vision, to see Jared - grinning down at him like the big, warm cat that he was, with his dimples and tilted hazel eyes - already stretching and reaching for Christian.
“Nice to know you’ve got the evening all planned out for us, Jen.”
An hour and a half later, Christian was in his bed, once again glad that he’d made that trip to Mobile three months ago to pick out the largest mattress he could find, because having both Jared and Jensen in with him would never work on the old broken down full size that he’d taken from his mom’s trailer when he first moved out.
Christian’s belly was full, and he was halfway to drunk on three beers and too many swigs from the bottle of Jack that Jensen had brought with them to the bedroom. His hair was still damp from the shower he’d taken with Jared. He could feel Jensen’s fingers sliding along his skull, and all he had to do was turn his head to the left to kiss the man. Drowning in the taste of Jensen’s mouth, his legs slid further apart as Jared cupped Christian’s ass in those big hands and sucked his cock with talented tongue and tight lips,his forehead pressed to Christian’s abdomen. Two long fingers slid into Christian’s body, slick with lube and spit, rubbing in just the right place to make Christian's hips jerk up from the bed, to make him moan and drop the whiskey to the floor as he held tighter to Jensen’s shoulders and arms. For a couple hours, Christian could forget Jason was back in town - could forget that Dave hadn’t even picked up the phone to call him. Fuck, for a good ninety minutes, Christian forgot his own name.
Christian woke up half the night later, climbed over the two men that sprawled in his bed, and stumbled through to the kitchen. He grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge and stood on the front porch. His dog was snoring on the couch in the living room and Christian could hear the horses in the barn as they moved in their stalls. Crickets and cicadas were singing around him as he stood there, naked and warm, his body bruised and still a little wet here and there, and sore in all the right ways.
The stars were huge above him, the moon bright as day, and for a moment - for just a second - Christian thought he saw the glow of a cigarette burning on the dirt road, but it must’ve just been the eye of a cat or a possum catching the light, because no one came out here this late at night. Not anymore.
Christian emptied the bottle and tossed it into the trash as he headed back to the bedroom, climbing back up in between Jared and Jensen and curling up in the heat they gave off. Going to sleep with a quiet smile.
A week later, Christian was at the Gaslight setting up for a show. Jensen and Jared were there with him and his band, although they didn’t get along with Russell at all. The two didn’t do drugs and they won’t sell so Russ has no use for them, but he wasn’t gonna kick them out because Christian’s band brings in the money every Friday and Saturday night and even with the storm coming in, tonight should be about the same.
Christian had been outside grabbing some cords from the back of the band’s truck when he came back in and immediately felt the change in the room. Russell was nowhere to be seen and Jared wouldn’t look him in the eyes. Jensen was swinging a hammer at a nail in the wall like it personally offended him, and it took Christian a minute or two because he was caught off guard. Then he got it.
“Where is he?”
Jared shrugged and headed to the back door. J. August tilted his head to Russell’s office with a nasty smile on his face, another man that couldn’t wait to tell Christian bad news.
“Getting his freak on with the boss man, Kane. You oughta know that.”
Christian started for the hallway that led to the office, pushing J. August out of his way, but Jensen grabbed him. Those hands that were usually so gentle with him were digging into his arms, and between Jensen and Jared; they got Christian out the back door.
“He was already fucked up when he got here, Kane.” Jared said as he tried to hold him and Jensen stood in front of the door, not taking his eyes off of Christian.
“Christ, he looked like he was already dead.” Jensen growled.
He refused to move and Christian pushed away from both of them. Stomping out on the gravel of the parking lot, the wind spitting random, fat drops of hot rain spattered against his face and hands.
He pulled out his cell phone, his thumb dialing Dave’s number without looking. He felt sick knowing that whatever Russ was going to give Jason - and Christian knew that Russell would give Jason something or Jason would steal some shit - it would only push Jason further into that grave he was so determined to bury himself in.
And once again, Christian was calling Dave to come get his boy. To come pull Jason out of the frying pan and jump into the fire.
All three of them jumped when they heard the fight start and neither Jared or Jensen could stop Christian from blowing through them this time. He broke the doorframe and ducked a swinging pool cue. Christian didn’t know if Jason was holding the end or one of the others, but it didn’t matter. He ran straight up past Russell and Nicky, slid around J. August, and grabbed Jason around his chest, then around his neck. Sometimes it wasn’t so bad to be short. Christian was holding Jason down under the swings of the others, and right now he was pretty sure that he outweighed Jason by at least a good twenty pounds, so it wasn’t that big of a deal to keep him down, to take away his breath, his control. It was just another way that Christian realized how fucked up Jason was, because on a normal day, even a year ago, Christian could not have taken Jason down like this, and now he was doing it without breaking a sweat.
It wasn’t enough to keep Jason from fighting though, it was more to get Jason out, because the others weren’t going to stop punching or kicking or hitting, and Christian couldn’t take them all on, not even with Jared and Jensen backing him up. They dragged Jason to the front door and Jared stood blocking the way while Jensen and Christian pushed and carried and pulled Jason out into the parking lot.
Christian slammed Jason up against his Bronco with a shuddering sigh as Jensen headed back up to make sure Jared was okay. There was a moment there, in the green, glowing light of the oncoming storm, just a moment, when Jason wasn’t fighting him, when Jason... stopped. Christian could feel the feverishly sick heat coming from Jason’s skin, could see his dry cracked lips and the blood dripping from his temple and chin. And even though Christian could barely see Jason’s pupils, there was a brief second where Jason looked back at him and those eyes weren’t empty and burnt.
“What is wrong with you, Jason? What the fuck is wrong with you? Why do you keep doing this to yourself? Why do you keep doing this to-” Christian stopped. He wanted to say to me and to us, but he didn’t think that Jason even recognized him, that Jason even knew who he was anymore, not really. And he knew that Jason didn’t remember the us that they’d been.
It had to have been the grey clouds and the low light, the smell of iron and ozone in the air as the wind whipped around them. Christian was sure that they were both fifteen again and he wanted to kiss Jason so much. He wanted to feel Jason’s body up against his chest, and wrap his arms around Jason and hold him... just hold him until those eyes sparkled with gold again, until Jason smiled like he used to... until Christian felt whole again.
”Kane...Christian...”
And it felt like Jason remembered, like Jason wanted that too. But then Jason took a breath and Christian knew he was kidding himself. Jason was talking about Dave and how he danced to that music now. That there wasn’t anything left for anyone else and the noise in his head was too loud and he had a bone to pick with his daddy.
Christian leaned against his Bronco as Jason stumbled to his motorcycle, still talking to himself. The air was moving past him in gusting waves, spinning through the parking lot, Christian could hear the trees around the Gaslight sway and creak, and the power lines swung as Jason started up his bike and skidded out of the gravel lot so fast Christian was almost sure he wouldn’t make the turn to the road. But Jason did, and he was gone, and then Jensen and Jared were there, putting their hands on Christian again, this time slower and gentler as they pulled him back up and into the Gaslight just as the first warm sheets of rain poured from the dark clouds.
Dave would be there in minutes, and Christian grinned without any humor. Dave would be there to fix it all; to run after Jason, take him home, get him drunk and high or higher and fuck him until they were both screaming and cursing each other. Christian knew it as well as he knew the lyrics and the lineup for his show tonight.
He knew it because that was always the way it was... the way it would always be.
Jared brought him a beer and Christian held it to his scuffed cheek for a minute, blinking past the pain. He took a deep breath and then he got his crew back on track, putting the stage together. He drank the beer and walked to his guitar, broken glass crunching and cracking between his boot heels and the hardwood floor. It was all that was left of Jason tonight, and Christian felt that last tiny flame of hope for Jason fizzle out inside him, as if it was raining just as hard in his heart and soul as it was outside the back door of the Gaslight. His boot ground the glass into shards as he walked away.
“Thirty minutes, boys. Let’s see if we can play louder and longer than the storm.”
~~~
I need more Christian Kane icons. :)
So began Crash 'verse.
Part 1 - Your Breath in My Hands by tabaqui Jason Behr/David Boreanaz, Christian Kane
Part 2 - Beautiful Wreck by tabaqui Jason Behr/David Boreanaz, Christian Kane
In between, she asked me to write Christian's POV and I tried. For four long years, I tried. I just could not find his voice. Until I went back and reread both fics again. Closely. Paying attention to each line - to the subtext (thank you, Supernatural). Then last week, that country boy started talking in my head and would.not.shut.up.
I would suggest reading those two first. Again, if you haven't already.
And here we go ~ after way too long ...
Covered in Broken Glass
by Snow
Part 3
Christian Kane/Jason Behr
Christian Kane/Jared Padalecki/Jensen Ackles
Christian Kane/David Boreanaz
yes, the boy does get around
Cracktrailer/Crash 'verse
mentions of past child abuse - nothing explicit
Beta'd by Darkhavens, checked over by hurry_sundown and trishabooms - Thank you!!
It had always been easy to give into the idea of hate, to the thoughts of jealousy. To let everyone (and Dave) think that he was simply envious of their fucked up relationship, if that was what it could be called. To let them all assume that he was just resentful and angry at not being the one that Dave had always pulled from the fire. that Dave had always bailed out and made up alibis with and fucking lied for since they had been fifteen and seventeen and twenty.
And even when school was over and Dave went up north to college. Jason drove out of town on that damn monster Harley and Christian went to work full time at the feed store - he never tried to correct the story that he’d had it in for Jason way before everyone had found out what the boy’s father had done, after he’d died. Christian had never really cared what anyone in this small, stupid town had thought about him, not after growing up under his own father’s shadow.
That was always when the best secrets came out, always when the juiciest gossip could be found in Jolie’s Salon or the barber shop on Maple, at the checkout in the Piggly Wiggly or around the Gaslight bar - after someone either passed or, as Christian’s father, was incarcerated for life at the State Pen.
But Christian had never hated Jason.
Not even close.
And especially not at first.
Jason had fit right into their group from the start. He was too skinny, his hair was cut too short, and his parents were two of the proudest, newest Baptists - but no one held that against Jason. They weren’t in town more than a week before most everyone else would do whatever they could to avoid being trapped into talking to either of Jason’s parents in public, his mother, with her clutched bible and judging glares; his father, too friendly in a way that no one could comfortably articulate.
But Jason was the first of them to ride his bike down Suicide Hill after a rainstorm that made the red dirt into the slickest, slipperiest, snottiest mud ever. They’d all hold their breath as he whooped and laughed and screamed his way down past the stand of trees that would break a leg or an arm or a neck without losing a leaf, and then, after the rest of them made their way without death or broken limbs, they’d sit in the shade and smoke an entire pack of Marlboro Reds, daring each other to be the one that didn’t puke.
When Dave was tied up at football practice for hours after school and every Saturday morning until noon, Jason and Christian would hang out. Occasionally they’d go watch, but most times they’d hitch a ride out to the lake. A stolen sixer split between them, a joint or the rare tab of acid they’d pooled their cash from mowing lawns or picking apples and peaches to buy from the seniors back behind the dumpster at school. Christian would bring his guitar and play every song he knew... and sometimes he’d play a couple that he’d written, a couple that no one else had ever heard before, because he knew that Jason would not laugh at him.
Jason and Christian would get drunk and get high and they’d spend hours talking, dreaming out loud about where they wanted to be, what they wanted to do, how they wanted to live. And as they got older, they stopped talking so much and started kissing. Slow at first, careful and scared, although Christian already did this with Dave, and he thought, from the way Jason knew exactly how to suck his cock from that first hot, hazy, humid afternoon under the willow tree at the lake, that Jason must’ve done that before too.
‘Course that was before he (before everyone) knew about Jason’s daddy.
They were cautious with each other, as if even then, even so young, they both knew that there was something else between them, something that wasn’t just the fumbling play of the horny and bored. Christian would run his palms flat over Jason’s broad, smooth chest and bite at the boy’s nipples until they were swollen and peaked. Until he’d feel Jason arching up under him, his spine bowed in the dirt, his hands pulling at Christian’s arms and his hair, Jason’s voice gone all breathy and low as he begged Christian to do... something. Anything. To take him higher, to make him come. To come with him.
Soon there wasn’t anything that Jason and Christian hadn’t done to each other, with each other. Kissing and touching, tasting and sucking and fucking with fingers and cocks and fists. Fighting and laughing and teasing, getting so stoned or drunk that neither one of them made it home, and they’d sleep out under the stars in a field of clover and hay. And then Dave would find them, curled around each other to keep warm, and he’d wake them up, put them in his car and drive them back into town and Jason’s parents (because Christian’s mom didn’t care if he ever came home) and take the blame for Jason. With his wide shoulders and ducked head even Jason’s parents couldn’t resist Dave’s southern charm and gracious manners, and the fact that his daddy owned the bill on their house and car didn’t hurt one little bit.
The best times that Christian could remember though, were when all three of them were together. Playing football at the lake and swimming until they were exhausted. Sleeping in the sun and then walking home, burnt and tired and thirsty. Drinking beer behind the Gaslight in the dark with all the other kids that weren’t quite twenty-one yet, because Russ wasn’t going to chance his liquor license by letting anyone in without an ID, but he’d sell ice cold beer out the back door of the kitchen without a second thought. They’d listen to the bands play as the lightning bugs buzzed around them, and the boys would fist fight for bragging rights or pussy or blow jobs under the single security light that hung way up on a pole in the parking lot.
The summer before Jason’s dad was buried had been the best. Jason kept telling Christian about the big ass ‘cycle he was going to buy, the one he’d been saving up for forever. The way he was gonna drive out of this town and never look back. And Christian didn’t laugh at all when Jason looked over at him in the shadow of that willow tree, the light sparkling in his golden brown eyes when he asked Christian to go with him, and Christian didn’t hesitate for a second. As if there was anything keeping him here in this place, in this town.
”Yeah, fuck yeah, Jay - you know I will.” Christian would whisper, his eyes closing as he kissed Jason. Because even as much as he absolutely and completely adored Dave, he knew he belonged with Jason.
Dave was gonna get out of this town anyhow - going to ride out on the shoulders of everyone with a fucking parade and a scholarship - and Christian would be more than happy to hold onto Jason’s hips on the back of his bike, with a full pack of cigs and his guitar and nothing but the open road in front of them both. Christian and Jason had a connection that went deeper and tied them closer than just friends... just boys... just lovers.
And then everything changed the night that Jason’s father was killed in a sting at an illegal back room poker game. The state cops blazed in, guns firing as if they’d already found out that the games were a cover for a ring of pedophiliacs, though nobody seemed to think that there might be kids there at the time. The run down house was riddled with bullets, and grenades of tear gas were tossed in with flash bombs. Thirty minutes later, as the dead bodies were pulled out and laid on the lawn, Jason was led out in front of more than half the entire town, all gathered in the dark to see something besides another meth lab bust, or a group of prostitutes and truckers being handcuffed.
Jason went from being the boy that Christian wanted to run away with, to the drug addicted, insanely violent man that he couldn’t stand to be around. That he couldn’t wait to see leave. If Jason wasn’t getting high, he was getting drunk, and if he wasn’t able to do either of those, then he was fucking a random stranger or sucking their dick, or fighting in alleys and basements and barns for cash while meth heads and crackers would bet on him like a feral dog that always won.
Christian gave up trying to help Jason, but Dave never did. Christian had been hit too many times trying to pick Jason up off the floor, trying to pull him out of a bar, trying to drag him away from a fight. Dave just waded in and fucking helped Jason. Helped him drink more or shoot up more or smoke more or fight more, and then Dave would carry him out and fuck him senseless, and Christian had seen it all over and over and over again until it was too much, Until he was pretty fucking sure that the boy he’d known so damn well was gone.And what hurt the most was that Christian couldn’t even talk to Dave about it.
He would bring up Jason and Dave would shut it down, as if just to question why Dave was rewarding Jason’s spiral down with his fucking cock and hands and tongue and teeth was too stupid to ask. The one time he actually got Dave to talk about it, they’d ended up beating each other bloody, so Christian only mentioned Jason’s name to let Dave know that Jason was about to be killed out at the Gaslight by a crowd that he’d pissed off with his constantly running mouth, or that he’d passed out in the parking lot at the truck stop again.
Then finally - thankfully - they both left.
Dave to his college and Jason to the winds. Christian didn’t see either of them off and he didn’t see either of them for almost a year.
By then, Christian had forgotten how soft Jason’s lips were, how tight his ass was around Christian’s cock. He hadn’t thought about the perfect sounds Jason made when Christian fucked him. He hadn’t thought about Jason’s wide smile and his incredible dreams, his reckless - fearless - spirit.
He didn’t think about Dave - ever. Not the way the big man would slam him up against a wall and kiss him until he was about to pass out from lack of oxygen. He didn’t remember the way Dave moaned when Christian sucked his cock, or the way Dave’s hands fit on either side of his head. The way Dave would whisper his name with his eyes closed. ’Come up here, Kane... come up here and let me inside you, baby...‘
Nope, Christian didn’t think about Dave or Jason at all.
Christian had made some new friends. He had his band and his job. He had a place just outside of the town limits, a small house on a few acres that was miles from anything - from everything and everyone. Something that was truly all his own. He had a big black Shepherd that rode in the front seat of his Bronco and ate entire bags of dog food that Christian would just cut open on his front porch.
And Christian might’ve trained the huge dog to piss on motorcycles.
That summer, Dave came home on a couple weeks of summer break from college and Christian didn’t care. He went about his life without reaching for Dave’s zippo that he’d left in Christian’s Bronco. Christian hadn’t refilled it since he’d stopped smoking, and he only thought about it when he had a joint and a long drive.
Of course, everyone in their little town couldn’t fucking wait to tell Christian - as if he existed on an island by himself, as if he counted on everyone to let him know what the fuck was going on - and Christian ground his teeth and clenched his fists and tried his hardest to not fucking deck every asshole that couldn’t fucking wait to tell him that Dave was home, or that Jason was riding his big ass bike down Main today. He really tried.
Christian stopped at Lacey’s for breakfast even though, maybe because he’d seen Jason’s bike in the parking lot. He waited while the Shepherd peed all over the front tire, then walked in and felt the stares as the old men turned with the jingle of the bell. Christian ignored them, moved to where Jason sat and pulled out the stool next to him.
He took a deep breath and, even through the grease and age and pine-sol that coated the diner, Christian thought he could smell Jason’s skin. His mind took him back to when he could taste it, when he could feel Jason’s body under his open palms, back to when Jason would smile at him when they met up at the diner like this, just like this.
Christian turned his coffee cup over to let Lacey know that he needed it filled and glanced over at Jason. His fingers went too tight on the cup’s chipped handle and he had to look anywhere - everywhere else.
Christ, Jason was thin. His face was wind burnt and tan, but not healthy. His cheeks were too hollow, his jaw too prominent. A big purple bruise colored the left side of Jason’s throat, same as the dark circles under his eyes. Christian wanted to lean in and touch Jason, but he knew it would only be welcomed with a punch and a snap of Jason’s teeth. Jason’s hair looked dry and dirty, hopelessly matted like some homeless pup left on the side of the road, and his eyes were bloodshot and dull and... so fucking empty.
”Miss me, Kane?”
It was all Christian could do to not grab Jason - his friend, his lover - drag him straight to his bronco, toss him over his shoulder if need be, and drive to the county general emergency room and commit him to the psych ward right now, this morning. But then Jason was snarling with a smirk, as he always did, tossing cash on the counter and sauntering out, and Christian sat, vibrating with rage until he couldn’t hear the engine of that big bike anymore, then he got up and went to the feed store without eating any breakfast at all.
He spent the day throwing a hundred seventy-five pound bags of horse chow from one pallet to another. Moving the auction steers from the holding pen to the sale barn and mucking out the stalls of the few horses they were holding for buyers to pick up before the weekend. Christian couldn’t remember talking to a single person for over nine and a half solid hours - but he did notice that everyone stayed completely out of his way.
Christian went from work straight back to his house. He didn’t have a gig for another week, and the band boys wouldn’t be around town for three more days. He was shaking with hunger by the time he got home and came in the house without closing the door behind him. Throwing some meat from the freezer into a heavy cast-iron frying pan that sat on the stove and tossing in a couple different spices before covering it with a lid, Christian pulled a beer out of the fridge and unscrewed the cap. He took a long drink, leaned back against the sink with his eyes closed.
’Fucking Jason ... fucking Dave. Fucking hell. Fuck. Them both.’
Christian growled to himself, feeling like his nerves were dancing under his skin. His fingers clenched into fists and he couldn’t stand still, couldn't take a breath, couldn’t relax at all, and then, as if on cue, Christian heard his front door slam closed and two different sets of boots came stomping into his kitchen.
Christian ran his tongue over his bottom lip and opened his eyes. Jared and Jensen stood in front of him, his two new friends. They’d been in town for less than a year or so, Jensen worked at Dave’s dad’s oil shop and Jared had picked up a job at the feed store with Christian. They were inseparable, but they both seemed to have developed a soft spot for Christian. It didn’t hurt that he fit perfectly between the two taller men, and that they enjoyed getting him so wound up that one of them would have to hold Christian’s arms down while the other sucked him off before either of them would get fucked.
“Cooking enough for all of us, Kane?” Jensen said as he moved straight over to where Christian stood. It was obvious that they’d both heard about Jason and Christian meeting at the diner. Jared and Jensen didn’t know Jason, but in a town this size, there were no secrets.
“I brought beer and some whiskey, heard you might need a drink tonight.” Jared was filling the fridge with a box of bottled beer, pulling two out and opening them as he book ended Christian’s other side, thighs to thighs, the toes of their boots pushing up against Christian’s.
“Don’t you two have your own place?” Christian bristled, but his growl was without heat.
They knew he hated it when they crowded up against him like this. He knew they knew it, but it never stopped them from just walking in and taking his personal space as if it was theirs to begin with - as it was with the beer they drank, the bed they slept in, the hot water they used up every damn time they were in his house. They both seemed to have a radar for Christian - for when he was pissed off or feeling low, or just needed to be distracted - and they would be there in his house, or showing up at the Gaslight near the end of a show, to make sure that he got home okay when he’d drunk his way through two bottles of Jack and was falling face down as soon as the music ended.
“C'mon, pretty boy.” Christian let Jared take the empty beer from his fingers. “You know you need us.”
Jared was built like a fucking tree. He towered over Christian in a way that David never had. There was never any sexual threat in his posture, never any sensual intimidation,Jared was just there, with his big smile, his big hands, his big... cock, and Jensen was his other half - serious intensity and pure desire when Jared was playful and joking and all about the teasing. Jensen’s eyes were as green as Christian’s were blue. His lips just as soft, his body just as hard. His mind just as fucking lustful.
No, Christian never really minded when they came over, and he didn’t really care how long they stayed.
Jensen tilted his head to Jared and they both pulled Christian’s t-shirt up and off. “You go clean up with Jared, baby. I’ll finish dinner for us. Then we’ll eat, and then we’ll fuck.”
Christian was already toeing off his boots, slapping away Jared’s hands with irritated jerks of his arms that didn’t even slow the bigger man down for a second. Hair fell over his face and he shook his head to clear his vision, to see Jared - grinning down at him like the big, warm cat that he was, with his dimples and tilted hazel eyes - already stretching and reaching for Christian.
“Nice to know you’ve got the evening all planned out for us, Jen.”
An hour and a half later, Christian was in his bed, once again glad that he’d made that trip to Mobile three months ago to pick out the largest mattress he could find, because having both Jared and Jensen in with him would never work on the old broken down full size that he’d taken from his mom’s trailer when he first moved out.
Christian’s belly was full, and he was halfway to drunk on three beers and too many swigs from the bottle of Jack that Jensen had brought with them to the bedroom. His hair was still damp from the shower he’d taken with Jared. He could feel Jensen’s fingers sliding along his skull, and all he had to do was turn his head to the left to kiss the man. Drowning in the taste of Jensen’s mouth, his legs slid further apart as Jared cupped Christian’s ass in those big hands and sucked his cock with talented tongue and tight lips,his forehead pressed to Christian’s abdomen. Two long fingers slid into Christian’s body, slick with lube and spit, rubbing in just the right place to make Christian's hips jerk up from the bed, to make him moan and drop the whiskey to the floor as he held tighter to Jensen’s shoulders and arms. For a couple hours, Christian could forget Jason was back in town - could forget that Dave hadn’t even picked up the phone to call him. Fuck, for a good ninety minutes, Christian forgot his own name.
Christian woke up half the night later, climbed over the two men that sprawled in his bed, and stumbled through to the kitchen. He grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge and stood on the front porch. His dog was snoring on the couch in the living room and Christian could hear the horses in the barn as they moved in their stalls. Crickets and cicadas were singing around him as he stood there, naked and warm, his body bruised and still a little wet here and there, and sore in all the right ways.
The stars were huge above him, the moon bright as day, and for a moment - for just a second - Christian thought he saw the glow of a cigarette burning on the dirt road, but it must’ve just been the eye of a cat or a possum catching the light, because no one came out here this late at night. Not anymore.
Christian emptied the bottle and tossed it into the trash as he headed back to the bedroom, climbing back up in between Jared and Jensen and curling up in the heat they gave off. Going to sleep with a quiet smile.
A week later, Christian was at the Gaslight setting up for a show. Jensen and Jared were there with him and his band, although they didn’t get along with Russell at all. The two didn’t do drugs and they won’t sell so Russ has no use for them, but he wasn’t gonna kick them out because Christian’s band brings in the money every Friday and Saturday night and even with the storm coming in, tonight should be about the same.
Christian had been outside grabbing some cords from the back of the band’s truck when he came back in and immediately felt the change in the room. Russell was nowhere to be seen and Jared wouldn’t look him in the eyes. Jensen was swinging a hammer at a nail in the wall like it personally offended him, and it took Christian a minute or two because he was caught off guard. Then he got it.
“Where is he?”
Jared shrugged and headed to the back door. J. August tilted his head to Russell’s office with a nasty smile on his face, another man that couldn’t wait to tell Christian bad news.
“Getting his freak on with the boss man, Kane. You oughta know that.”
Christian started for the hallway that led to the office, pushing J. August out of his way, but Jensen grabbed him. Those hands that were usually so gentle with him were digging into his arms, and between Jensen and Jared; they got Christian out the back door.
“He was already fucked up when he got here, Kane.” Jared said as he tried to hold him and Jensen stood in front of the door, not taking his eyes off of Christian.
“Christ, he looked like he was already dead.” Jensen growled.
He refused to move and Christian pushed away from both of them. Stomping out on the gravel of the parking lot, the wind spitting random, fat drops of hot rain spattered against his face and hands.
He pulled out his cell phone, his thumb dialing Dave’s number without looking. He felt sick knowing that whatever Russ was going to give Jason - and Christian knew that Russell would give Jason something or Jason would steal some shit - it would only push Jason further into that grave he was so determined to bury himself in.
And once again, Christian was calling Dave to come get his boy. To come pull Jason out of the frying pan and jump into the fire.
All three of them jumped when they heard the fight start and neither Jared or Jensen could stop Christian from blowing through them this time. He broke the doorframe and ducked a swinging pool cue. Christian didn’t know if Jason was holding the end or one of the others, but it didn’t matter. He ran straight up past Russell and Nicky, slid around J. August, and grabbed Jason around his chest, then around his neck. Sometimes it wasn’t so bad to be short. Christian was holding Jason down under the swings of the others, and right now he was pretty sure that he outweighed Jason by at least a good twenty pounds, so it wasn’t that big of a deal to keep him down, to take away his breath, his control. It was just another way that Christian realized how fucked up Jason was, because on a normal day, even a year ago, Christian could not have taken Jason down like this, and now he was doing it without breaking a sweat.
It wasn’t enough to keep Jason from fighting though, it was more to get Jason out, because the others weren’t going to stop punching or kicking or hitting, and Christian couldn’t take them all on, not even with Jared and Jensen backing him up. They dragged Jason to the front door and Jared stood blocking the way while Jensen and Christian pushed and carried and pulled Jason out into the parking lot.
Christian slammed Jason up against his Bronco with a shuddering sigh as Jensen headed back up to make sure Jared was okay. There was a moment there, in the green, glowing light of the oncoming storm, just a moment, when Jason wasn’t fighting him, when Jason... stopped. Christian could feel the feverishly sick heat coming from Jason’s skin, could see his dry cracked lips and the blood dripping from his temple and chin. And even though Christian could barely see Jason’s pupils, there was a brief second where Jason looked back at him and those eyes weren’t empty and burnt.
“What is wrong with you, Jason? What the fuck is wrong with you? Why do you keep doing this to yourself? Why do you keep doing this to-” Christian stopped. He wanted to say to me and to us, but he didn’t think that Jason even recognized him, that Jason even knew who he was anymore, not really. And he knew that Jason didn’t remember the us that they’d been.
It had to have been the grey clouds and the low light, the smell of iron and ozone in the air as the wind whipped around them. Christian was sure that they were both fifteen again and he wanted to kiss Jason so much. He wanted to feel Jason’s body up against his chest, and wrap his arms around Jason and hold him... just hold him until those eyes sparkled with gold again, until Jason smiled like he used to... until Christian felt whole again.
”Kane...Christian...”
And it felt like Jason remembered, like Jason wanted that too. But then Jason took a breath and Christian knew he was kidding himself. Jason was talking about Dave and how he danced to that music now. That there wasn’t anything left for anyone else and the noise in his head was too loud and he had a bone to pick with his daddy.
Christian leaned against his Bronco as Jason stumbled to his motorcycle, still talking to himself. The air was moving past him in gusting waves, spinning through the parking lot, Christian could hear the trees around the Gaslight sway and creak, and the power lines swung as Jason started up his bike and skidded out of the gravel lot so fast Christian was almost sure he wouldn’t make the turn to the road. But Jason did, and he was gone, and then Jensen and Jared were there, putting their hands on Christian again, this time slower and gentler as they pulled him back up and into the Gaslight just as the first warm sheets of rain poured from the dark clouds.
Dave would be there in minutes, and Christian grinned without any humor. Dave would be there to fix it all; to run after Jason, take him home, get him drunk and high or higher and fuck him until they were both screaming and cursing each other. Christian knew it as well as he knew the lyrics and the lineup for his show tonight.
He knew it because that was always the way it was... the way it would always be.
Jared brought him a beer and Christian held it to his scuffed cheek for a minute, blinking past the pain. He took a deep breath and then he got his crew back on track, putting the stage together. He drank the beer and walked to his guitar, broken glass crunching and cracking between his boot heels and the hardwood floor. It was all that was left of Jason tonight, and Christian felt that last tiny flame of hope for Jason fizzle out inside him, as if it was raining just as hard in his heart and soul as it was outside the back door of the Gaslight. His boot ground the glass into shards as he walked away.
“Thirty minutes, boys. Let’s see if we can play louder and longer than the storm.”
~~~
I need more Christian Kane icons. :)