Keeper (Agnates in Elysium), 6/10 (R)
Posted to house_wilson and betteronvicodin
Title: Keeper (Agnates in Elysium), Part 6/10
Author: Dee Laundry
Rating: R
Summary: House and Wilson's son Jack passes one of life's crossroads and makes an unexpected connection.
Note: Part One began in June 2033. Sequel to My Fathers' Son, set in an AU that crosses over with simple__man's Churchverse, which began with Brilliant. Grateful appreciation to daisylily for beta and to simple__man for creating something wonderful and letting me play with it.
Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five
Church's comforter smelled a lot cleaner than Jack would've imagined, if he'd ever thought about it before his nose was buried in the damn thing. Of course, it wasn't likely to stay so bouquet-fresh, given the sweat that Jack could feel trickling across his scalp and beginning to bead on his lower back.
His knees were beginning to ache as well, and no wonder with all the weight they were bearing. Getting his hands under him would help relieve some of the strain, but his arms were pinned above him. That left just Jack's head, knees, and toes in contact with the bed, able to bear any weight, and for a skinny man, Church was surprisingly heavy.
Jack felt the rough slide of Church's right calf against his own as Church shifted position and canted his hips for better leverage. Jack gritted his teeth, muscles straining, and pushed back, but he didn't get far. Church pressed his chest tighter against Jack's back and panted into his ear, "That's my boy. Doing so good for a first-timer."
Church's hot breath on his ear, on his neck, in his hairline was driving Jack just a little bit crazy. He rocked his hips and ass, trying to build better momentum, but was unsurprised to feel Church react, pin him harder.
This was not, in fact, Jack's first time, although it'd been a few years. Jack had let Church continue thinking that, not in the expectation of any gentler treatment - this was Church after all - but with the hope that it might give him the element of surprise at some point. So far, no luck, but Jack was biding his time, waiting for any opening.
Suddenly, Church reared back, opening up a few precious inches of space between them, and Jack scrambled to twist and find better purchase, but then Church was slamming into him again, forcing him deeper into the mattress and ever nearer to the precipice at the bed's edge.
Now trembling from the tension, Jack heard himself groan and less than a second later Church answered with a chuckle. A shaky one, though, very shaky, and Jack dared to let optimism roll through him. Church was trying to play it cool, but Jack could sense he wasn't as collected as he might wish.
They'd been at it for - a long time (Jack was normally pretty good at estimating time but Church was one hell of a distracting bastard). They'd started on the couch, during an annoyingly boring segment of television, and things had escalated quickly. At one point they'd been up against the wall, but in a particularly vigorous moment, Church had stumbled against the bed. Once they'd hit the mattress that was where they had stayed. Now Jack was getting tired, but he'd be damned if he'd show it. If Church wanted to go for another thirty minutes, an hour, whatever, Jack was going to be right there with him.
Another slam from Church, and Jack ground forward a few inches, his forehead sliding off the bed. He gasped and grunted, and then found it increasingly difficult to breathe. "Neck," he managed to wheeze. "Edge digging into my neck."
Hands sliding down from Jack's hair to his chest, Church wrapped Jack up tightly in his arms and then abruptly pulled him up. They were upright together for a second, and Jack caught a glimpse of the two of them in the dresser mirror. "We look so happy," he thought, and then Church was moving, turning them a few degrees away from the edge, and Jack felt a rush of cool wind as Church drove him into the mattress again. The groan that produced from him was embarrassing, and he pushed up and back into Church as hard as he could, wanting to force some similar noise out of the man.
"Little pony's trying to buck," Church laughed, but Jack could hear the fatigue. He realized in that instant that after Church had changed his grasp to pull Jack away from the edge, he hadn't changed it back. Jack had some freedom to move his arms. Before he could decide how to take advantage, however, Church was draped down over him again.
Mouth millimeters from Jack's ear, Church whispered, "Give it up. Give it up to me. You know you want to."
Jack closed his eyes and sighed. He was hot, sweaty, and almost breathless. Muscles he barely remembered having - it'd been far too long - were trembling and well on their way to sore. Church was everywhere, covering him, pressing into his legs, his butt, his back. And his knees were absolutely killing him. Giving in to Church would be the easiest thing to do.
Instead, Jack tilted his head toward Church's and let a smile curve his lips. "You give it up," he whispered, and was amused by the look on Church's face. Summoning all his strength, Jack planted his hands on the mattress and pushed up, arching his back, with the intention of flipping Church over.
He had the pleasure of hearing Church squawk, clearly caught off guard, and then laughed as Church's arms tightened around him. A second later, he had his face pressed firmly into the comforter again and it was Church's turn to laugh.
"Church?" asked a deep voice.
"Hey, Jer," Church replied. "This here's Jack. Say hi, Jack."
Jack tried to greet Jer properly - he'd been dying to meet him - but the comforter muffled all his words. He tried to pull his head up so he could at least see the man, but Church's forearm was preventing that.
Jack grunted as Church suddenly pushed forward over him. "Jer, you just got here! Where are you going?"
"Out."
A door slammed, and Church rolled off Jack and landed heavily on the bed on his back. “Fuck fucking fuck," he spat.
Jack immediately slid onto his side, facing Church, almost giddy at the relief for his aching knees. His mood was tempered, however, by Church's glower. "What?" he asked, trying, not entirely successfully, to mask his concern.
Church didn't seem to notice, closing his eyes and thumping his head twice against the mattress. "Jer's the jealous type."
"Jealous over wrestling?" Jack was honestly confused. He could understand where Church might inspire some jealousy - might go out of his way to inspire some jealousy - but over him? For just goofing around?
Church grunted and turned the dumbass glare on him. "Pretty sure Jer thinks we were doing more than wrestling."
"Why would he think that? OK, the position might've looked a little funny, but we have our clothes on." Jack gestured between them, encompassing Church's obnoxiously ugly t-shirt and jeans, and his own outfit.
"Sex with as little disrobing as possible is sometimes a kink of mine - don't ask; you don't want to know - and he probably couldn't see your shorts." Church rolled away and rose from the bed. His face was carefully dispassionate, but the tightness in his neck and shoulders screamed his distress.
Jack couldn't help but feel sorry for his part in causing that grief, and directly before the big dinner for the four of them that night, too. Great first impression on Church's boyfriend, he chided himself. Trying to be soothing, he replied, "But you can just explain it to him, and how I'm straight, and I'm sure he'll -"
"Yeah," Church snapped. He'd begun pacing, each stride slamming into the carpet. "Jer knows me, knows what I'm like, knows how I'm always attracted to people I like - and there aren't many of them. I have acquaintances, drinking buddies, hook-ups, affairs, but not too many friends." He stopped and shook his head. "He was already getting suspicious, just from how many stories I tell him about you."
The flattered feeling in Jack's chest distracted him for a minute. "You tell stories about me?"
"Why wouldn't I?"
"Because I'm boring. You tell me that all the time."
Church snorted and then leaned back against the dresser. "I may have exaggerated that accusation for effect. Speaking of exaggeration, you said that one time, when we were talking about Bender's, that you were sure I had a ton of friends. Why?"
"Why wouldn't you?" Jack was starting to get some of his energy back, so he sat up and stretched. "You're intelligent; you're clever; you're interesting."
"I'm an asshole," Church countered, glaring. "Rude, abrasive, spawn of Satan."
Jack shrugged. "My dad, whom I both loved and admired, was worse than you."
Church's skepticism was amusing, but Jack held himself back from smiling. "You're joking," Church accused.
"No, I'm really, really not." Jack stretched again and climbed off the bed. Dad would've liked Church, he concluded. Maybe grudgingly, but he would have. It was a shame they'd never get to meet.
Contemplating, Church drummed his fingers against the dresser in an unusual cadence, making a pleasant low sound that was almost musical. "My dad's worse than me, too," he finally confessed.
Jack smirked. "Apple doesn't far fall from the tree."
"Are you sure you're a writer? Aren't you guys supposed to be against trite aphorisms?"
"Shut up," Jack countered pleasantly. He reached out and squeezed Church's arm briefly before returning to a Church-acceptable distance. "You OK now?"
"Yeah." Squaring his shoulders, Church pushed off the dresser and stood. "I've got to go get Jer and talk to him."
Oh, no. "Bad idea, Church. You're an abrasive asshole, remember? I'll talk to him."
"Worse idea. If he wouldn't believe me, why would he believe you?"
Jack had to concede the point. If he'd found Mary in bed with her arms around another man - Testosterone surged and his heart sped up. The theoretical guy would be lucky to make it away from him with only bruises.
"True," he told Church. "To talk to Jer, we need someone who's completely trustworthy."
They thought for a moment, and then inspiration struck. In the same instant, they looked at each other and both declared, "Mary."
Church pushed Jack toward the doorway. "I'll call her while you're in the shower," he said. "You stink, Sweaty."
Jack smiled. Mary was the perfect choice; she'd have Jer straightened out (no pun intended) and feeling good in plenty of time for their dinner tonight. Plus, Jack was ready to gloat, and with good reason. "It's the heady stench of victory."
"What are you yammering about?" Church asked, annoyed. He was already reaching for his cell phone.
"Our wrestling bout," Jack informed him while walking away. "I won."
Church chased after him, following him into the bathroom. "You did not! I had you pinned."
"But I never gave up." Jack stripped off his shirt and stepped out of his shorts; he did feel slightly sticky and gross, not appropriate at all for the restaurant they were going to tonight. He leaned in and turned on the shower, and then gestured for Church to turn around. "Unlike some people I can name, who just up and rolled over when the pressure got to be too much."
Even with his back to Jack, Church could still make his disapproval known. "You mean when my boyfriend walked out on me because he thought I was banging you?"
"Yep." As Church turned around again, Jack leaned out around the shower curtain and plastered on his biggest smirk, digging the knife in deep. "I win."
"I concede nothing," Church protested, but his face gave the game away. Triumph for Jack. "Take your shower, fucker. I'm tired of smelling you."
Jack slapped the curtain shut and leaned into the spray. He loved a good shower, loved the heat, the aroma of the soap and shampoo, the wonderful feeling of rinsing all the grime away.
He was almost done when Church stepped back into the bathroom. "Got a hold of Mary; she's going to come by and then we'll track down Jer together."
"Sounds good."
Jack was scrubbing his ears when Church said, "Really think Mary'll suck his dick?"
"What?" Jack bellowed, and stuck his head out of the shower.
Church smirked. "Are you deaf? I said, do you really think Mary'll do the trick?"
"Oh," Jack sighed, instantly relieved. He closed the curtain again and began to rinse off as quickly as possible. "I thought you said Mary was going to suck Jer's dick!" he shouted above the spray.
Church scoffed loudly, and Jack smiled. He shut off the water just as Church shouted, "You never know, though! Maybe she wants to see what the unsliced salami's like."
Jack rolled his eyes behind the curtain, and then stuck his hand out, gesturing impatiently for a towel. "Lack of foreskin has never been an impediment," he retorted.
Arms crossed, Church was steadfastly refusing to hand over a towel. "Mary's a very polite person. Maybe she just never told you that you're less of a man than she needs. Girls go nutty for that extra bit of flesh."
"Don't you mean boys? With Jer being gay, he wouldn't have firsthand knowledge of what girls like."
"True, but I do."
Jack stopped cold, his hand inches from the towel. "Wait a minute. You're not claiming you're uncircumcised?"
"What makes you think I'm not?"
"The epic story of the five-hour bar mitzvah party." Jack pushed back the shower curtain and leveled a finger right at Church, who was looking infuriatingly smug. "You are a lying liar who lies."
"I'm not!" Church protested. After Jack shot him a skeptical look, he relented, "Well, in general, yes, but not in this particular circumstance."
This blatant lie could not be allowed to stand. "Evidence required," Jack intoned, robot-like, as he stepped out of the shower, inches away from Church.
"Hey!" Church objected, but he was backed into the sink; there was nowhere for him to go.
Jack reached for Church's waistband with a smirk. Catching Church out in this lie would mean victory number two for Jack today, something unprecedented in the history of their friendship. Church's attempts to fend him off were hampered by the tightness of space in this corner of the bathroom; he easily caught up Church's wrists in his right hand.
With his left index finger, he snagged the waist of Church's jeans right over his fly, and managed to catch the elastic of his underwear as well. He was leaning over to peek and laughing off Church's indignant squawks when a loud "ahem" sounded behind him.
He whipped his head around and there was Mary. Wow, two horribly wrong impressions in one day; could it get any worse? He opened his mouth to say something, to explain, but nothing came out.
Church had fallen silent as well, so Mary's voice echoed loudly in the room. "What exactly is my very naked fiancé doing looking down another man's pants?"
Jack stammered and stuttered for a few seconds and then abruptly realized he still had two hands on Church. He let go, pulled back, and grabbed a towel, wrapping it around his waist. "Let me -"
To his surprise, Mary started laughing. "No," she said, "please don't explain. It's better if I don't know. This does point out, however, how reasonable Jer's assumption seemed."
"Mary," Jack entreated, as Church started sniggering. Throwing him a glare over his shoulder, Jack moved toward his fiancée. "We were just goofing off."
She smiled broadly and planted a quick kiss on his lips. "I know. You two are like puppies, tussling and tumbling and sniffing each other's butts. I don't mean it literally, Church, so get that idea out of your head."
Jack could feel the smirk on Church's face even without looking.
"Now you get dressed," Mary said, pushing Jack out of the bathroom. "I brought you some nice clothes; they're on Church's bed. Church and I are going to find Jer, and I will attempt to explain to him the deranged lunacy that is your friendship. If he's a halfway sane man, he won't believe a word of it, but I'll do my best."
He was filled with affection for the wonderful woman he'd somehow been lucky enough to find. "I love you, Mary."
"Everybody does," Church commented, and escorted her out the door.
(Continued)
Title: Keeper (Agnates in Elysium), Part 6/10
Author: Dee Laundry
Rating: R
Summary: House and Wilson's son Jack passes one of life's crossroads and makes an unexpected connection.
Note: Part One began in June 2033. Sequel to My Fathers' Son, set in an AU that crosses over with simple__man's Churchverse, which began with Brilliant. Grateful appreciation to daisylily for beta and to simple__man for creating something wonderful and letting me play with it.
Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five
Church's comforter smelled a lot cleaner than Jack would've imagined, if he'd ever thought about it before his nose was buried in the damn thing. Of course, it wasn't likely to stay so bouquet-fresh, given the sweat that Jack could feel trickling across his scalp and beginning to bead on his lower back.
His knees were beginning to ache as well, and no wonder with all the weight they were bearing. Getting his hands under him would help relieve some of the strain, but his arms were pinned above him. That left just Jack's head, knees, and toes in contact with the bed, able to bear any weight, and for a skinny man, Church was surprisingly heavy.
Jack felt the rough slide of Church's right calf against his own as Church shifted position and canted his hips for better leverage. Jack gritted his teeth, muscles straining, and pushed back, but he didn't get far. Church pressed his chest tighter against Jack's back and panted into his ear, "That's my boy. Doing so good for a first-timer."
Church's hot breath on his ear, on his neck, in his hairline was driving Jack just a little bit crazy. He rocked his hips and ass, trying to build better momentum, but was unsurprised to feel Church react, pin him harder.
This was not, in fact, Jack's first time, although it'd been a few years. Jack had let Church continue thinking that, not in the expectation of any gentler treatment - this was Church after all - but with the hope that it might give him the element of surprise at some point. So far, no luck, but Jack was biding his time, waiting for any opening.
Suddenly, Church reared back, opening up a few precious inches of space between them, and Jack scrambled to twist and find better purchase, but then Church was slamming into him again, forcing him deeper into the mattress and ever nearer to the precipice at the bed's edge.
Now trembling from the tension, Jack heard himself groan and less than a second later Church answered with a chuckle. A shaky one, though, very shaky, and Jack dared to let optimism roll through him. Church was trying to play it cool, but Jack could sense he wasn't as collected as he might wish.
They'd been at it for - a long time (Jack was normally pretty good at estimating time but Church was one hell of a distracting bastard). They'd started on the couch, during an annoyingly boring segment of television, and things had escalated quickly. At one point they'd been up against the wall, but in a particularly vigorous moment, Church had stumbled against the bed. Once they'd hit the mattress that was where they had stayed. Now Jack was getting tired, but he'd be damned if he'd show it. If Church wanted to go for another thirty minutes, an hour, whatever, Jack was going to be right there with him.
Another slam from Church, and Jack ground forward a few inches, his forehead sliding off the bed. He gasped and grunted, and then found it increasingly difficult to breathe. "Neck," he managed to wheeze. "Edge digging into my neck."
Hands sliding down from Jack's hair to his chest, Church wrapped Jack up tightly in his arms and then abruptly pulled him up. They were upright together for a second, and Jack caught a glimpse of the two of them in the dresser mirror. "We look so happy," he thought, and then Church was moving, turning them a few degrees away from the edge, and Jack felt a rush of cool wind as Church drove him into the mattress again. The groan that produced from him was embarrassing, and he pushed up and back into Church as hard as he could, wanting to force some similar noise out of the man.
"Little pony's trying to buck," Church laughed, but Jack could hear the fatigue. He realized in that instant that after Church had changed his grasp to pull Jack away from the edge, he hadn't changed it back. Jack had some freedom to move his arms. Before he could decide how to take advantage, however, Church was draped down over him again.
Mouth millimeters from Jack's ear, Church whispered, "Give it up. Give it up to me. You know you want to."
Jack closed his eyes and sighed. He was hot, sweaty, and almost breathless. Muscles he barely remembered having - it'd been far too long - were trembling and well on their way to sore. Church was everywhere, covering him, pressing into his legs, his butt, his back. And his knees were absolutely killing him. Giving in to Church would be the easiest thing to do.
Instead, Jack tilted his head toward Church's and let a smile curve his lips. "You give it up," he whispered, and was amused by the look on Church's face. Summoning all his strength, Jack planted his hands on the mattress and pushed up, arching his back, with the intention of flipping Church over.
He had the pleasure of hearing Church squawk, clearly caught off guard, and then laughed as Church's arms tightened around him. A second later, he had his face pressed firmly into the comforter again and it was Church's turn to laugh.
"Church?" asked a deep voice.
"Hey, Jer," Church replied. "This here's Jack. Say hi, Jack."
Jack tried to greet Jer properly - he'd been dying to meet him - but the comforter muffled all his words. He tried to pull his head up so he could at least see the man, but Church's forearm was preventing that.
Jack grunted as Church suddenly pushed forward over him. "Jer, you just got here! Where are you going?"
"Out."
A door slammed, and Church rolled off Jack and landed heavily on the bed on his back. “Fuck fucking fuck," he spat.
Jack immediately slid onto his side, facing Church, almost giddy at the relief for his aching knees. His mood was tempered, however, by Church's glower. "What?" he asked, trying, not entirely successfully, to mask his concern.
Church didn't seem to notice, closing his eyes and thumping his head twice against the mattress. "Jer's the jealous type."
"Jealous over wrestling?" Jack was honestly confused. He could understand where Church might inspire some jealousy - might go out of his way to inspire some jealousy - but over him? For just goofing around?
Church grunted and turned the dumbass glare on him. "Pretty sure Jer thinks we were doing more than wrestling."
"Why would he think that? OK, the position might've looked a little funny, but we have our clothes on." Jack gestured between them, encompassing Church's obnoxiously ugly t-shirt and jeans, and his own outfit.
"Sex with as little disrobing as possible is sometimes a kink of mine - don't ask; you don't want to know - and he probably couldn't see your shorts." Church rolled away and rose from the bed. His face was carefully dispassionate, but the tightness in his neck and shoulders screamed his distress.
Jack couldn't help but feel sorry for his part in causing that grief, and directly before the big dinner for the four of them that night, too. Great first impression on Church's boyfriend, he chided himself. Trying to be soothing, he replied, "But you can just explain it to him, and how I'm straight, and I'm sure he'll -"
"Yeah," Church snapped. He'd begun pacing, each stride slamming into the carpet. "Jer knows me, knows what I'm like, knows how I'm always attracted to people I like - and there aren't many of them. I have acquaintances, drinking buddies, hook-ups, affairs, but not too many friends." He stopped and shook his head. "He was already getting suspicious, just from how many stories I tell him about you."
The flattered feeling in Jack's chest distracted him for a minute. "You tell stories about me?"
"Why wouldn't I?"
"Because I'm boring. You tell me that all the time."
Church snorted and then leaned back against the dresser. "I may have exaggerated that accusation for effect. Speaking of exaggeration, you said that one time, when we were talking about Bender's, that you were sure I had a ton of friends. Why?"
"Why wouldn't you?" Jack was starting to get some of his energy back, so he sat up and stretched. "You're intelligent; you're clever; you're interesting."
"I'm an asshole," Church countered, glaring. "Rude, abrasive, spawn of Satan."
Jack shrugged. "My dad, whom I both loved and admired, was worse than you."
Church's skepticism was amusing, but Jack held himself back from smiling. "You're joking," Church accused.
"No, I'm really, really not." Jack stretched again and climbed off the bed. Dad would've liked Church, he concluded. Maybe grudgingly, but he would have. It was a shame they'd never get to meet.
Contemplating, Church drummed his fingers against the dresser in an unusual cadence, making a pleasant low sound that was almost musical. "My dad's worse than me, too," he finally confessed.
Jack smirked. "Apple doesn't far fall from the tree."
"Are you sure you're a writer? Aren't you guys supposed to be against trite aphorisms?"
"Shut up," Jack countered pleasantly. He reached out and squeezed Church's arm briefly before returning to a Church-acceptable distance. "You OK now?"
"Yeah." Squaring his shoulders, Church pushed off the dresser and stood. "I've got to go get Jer and talk to him."
Oh, no. "Bad idea, Church. You're an abrasive asshole, remember? I'll talk to him."
"Worse idea. If he wouldn't believe me, why would he believe you?"
Jack had to concede the point. If he'd found Mary in bed with her arms around another man - Testosterone surged and his heart sped up. The theoretical guy would be lucky to make it away from him with only bruises.
"True," he told Church. "To talk to Jer, we need someone who's completely trustworthy."
They thought for a moment, and then inspiration struck. In the same instant, they looked at each other and both declared, "Mary."
Church pushed Jack toward the doorway. "I'll call her while you're in the shower," he said. "You stink, Sweaty."
Jack smiled. Mary was the perfect choice; she'd have Jer straightened out (no pun intended) and feeling good in plenty of time for their dinner tonight. Plus, Jack was ready to gloat, and with good reason. "It's the heady stench of victory."
"What are you yammering about?" Church asked, annoyed. He was already reaching for his cell phone.
"Our wrestling bout," Jack informed him while walking away. "I won."
Church chased after him, following him into the bathroom. "You did not! I had you pinned."
"But I never gave up." Jack stripped off his shirt and stepped out of his shorts; he did feel slightly sticky and gross, not appropriate at all for the restaurant they were going to tonight. He leaned in and turned on the shower, and then gestured for Church to turn around. "Unlike some people I can name, who just up and rolled over when the pressure got to be too much."
Even with his back to Jack, Church could still make his disapproval known. "You mean when my boyfriend walked out on me because he thought I was banging you?"
"Yep." As Church turned around again, Jack leaned out around the shower curtain and plastered on his biggest smirk, digging the knife in deep. "I win."
"I concede nothing," Church protested, but his face gave the game away. Triumph for Jack. "Take your shower, fucker. I'm tired of smelling you."
Jack slapped the curtain shut and leaned into the spray. He loved a good shower, loved the heat, the aroma of the soap and shampoo, the wonderful feeling of rinsing all the grime away.
He was almost done when Church stepped back into the bathroom. "Got a hold of Mary; she's going to come by and then we'll track down Jer together."
"Sounds good."
Jack was scrubbing his ears when Church said, "Really think Mary'll suck his dick?"
"What?" Jack bellowed, and stuck his head out of the shower.
Church smirked. "Are you deaf? I said, do you really think Mary'll do the trick?"
"Oh," Jack sighed, instantly relieved. He closed the curtain again and began to rinse off as quickly as possible. "I thought you said Mary was going to suck Jer's dick!" he shouted above the spray.
Church scoffed loudly, and Jack smiled. He shut off the water just as Church shouted, "You never know, though! Maybe she wants to see what the unsliced salami's like."
Jack rolled his eyes behind the curtain, and then stuck his hand out, gesturing impatiently for a towel. "Lack of foreskin has never been an impediment," he retorted.
Arms crossed, Church was steadfastly refusing to hand over a towel. "Mary's a very polite person. Maybe she just never told you that you're less of a man than she needs. Girls go nutty for that extra bit of flesh."
"Don't you mean boys? With Jer being gay, he wouldn't have firsthand knowledge of what girls like."
"True, but I do."
Jack stopped cold, his hand inches from the towel. "Wait a minute. You're not claiming you're uncircumcised?"
"What makes you think I'm not?"
"The epic story of the five-hour bar mitzvah party." Jack pushed back the shower curtain and leveled a finger right at Church, who was looking infuriatingly smug. "You are a lying liar who lies."
"I'm not!" Church protested. After Jack shot him a skeptical look, he relented, "Well, in general, yes, but not in this particular circumstance."
This blatant lie could not be allowed to stand. "Evidence required," Jack intoned, robot-like, as he stepped out of the shower, inches away from Church.
"Hey!" Church objected, but he was backed into the sink; there was nowhere for him to go.
Jack reached for Church's waistband with a smirk. Catching Church out in this lie would mean victory number two for Jack today, something unprecedented in the history of their friendship. Church's attempts to fend him off were hampered by the tightness of space in this corner of the bathroom; he easily caught up Church's wrists in his right hand.
With his left index finger, he snagged the waist of Church's jeans right over his fly, and managed to catch the elastic of his underwear as well. He was leaning over to peek and laughing off Church's indignant squawks when a loud "ahem" sounded behind him.
He whipped his head around and there was Mary. Wow, two horribly wrong impressions in one day; could it get any worse? He opened his mouth to say something, to explain, but nothing came out.
Church had fallen silent as well, so Mary's voice echoed loudly in the room. "What exactly is my very naked fiancé doing looking down another man's pants?"
Jack stammered and stuttered for a few seconds and then abruptly realized he still had two hands on Church. He let go, pulled back, and grabbed a towel, wrapping it around his waist. "Let me -"
To his surprise, Mary started laughing. "No," she said, "please don't explain. It's better if I don't know. This does point out, however, how reasonable Jer's assumption seemed."
"Mary," Jack entreated, as Church started sniggering. Throwing him a glare over his shoulder, Jack moved toward his fiancée. "We were just goofing off."
She smiled broadly and planted a quick kiss on his lips. "I know. You two are like puppies, tussling and tumbling and sniffing each other's butts. I don't mean it literally, Church, so get that idea out of your head."
Jack could feel the smirk on Church's face even without looking.
"Now you get dressed," Mary said, pushing Jack out of the bathroom. "I brought you some nice clothes; they're on Church's bed. Church and I are going to find Jer, and I will attempt to explain to him the deranged lunacy that is your friendship. If he's a halfway sane man, he won't believe a word of it, but I'll do my best."
He was filled with affection for the wonderful woman he'd somehow been lucky enough to find. "I love you, Mary."
"Everybody does," Church commented, and escorted her out the door.
(Continued)