couldn't get out for babyofthegroup

[jae_w]

Recipient: babyofthegroup
Author: yourealwaysmine

Couldn't Get Out
For Drew (babyofthegroup)
4800 words
Brendon/Jon

Thanks to jae_w, koncupiscence, hearthisvoice, and wovenindelibly.


Brendon is bleary-eyed as he stumbles into the bathroom. He's hot from sleep, his face itches, and it's not until he's peeing that he gets a good look at himself in the mirror over the sink.

His reflection is a completely different dude. A dude with shorter hair and the kind of beard it must have taken months to grow.

He looks down to check himself out, and it's not just his face that's different. His arms are stockier and his tattoos are gone, and those aren't his hands or his dick, for that matter.

On auto-pilot, he finishes up, before stumbling over to the sink to stare. He's never seen this person before in his life.

His heart is thudding, as he reaches out to touch the reflection, to touch his buzzed hair, and hairy chin. He pulls a face, scrunches his eyes and sticks out his tongue, and the new face twists up in the mirror.

Maybe he's having a stroke, or is really, really seriously high.

He feels light-headed suddenly, so he closes his eyes to try and remember what he'd done the night before. Nothing out of the ordinary occurs to him. He'd watched House with Shane, walked Dylan, done a bunch of push-ups, and he'd fallen asleep in his own body, in his own room. Nothing out of the ordinary at all.

He opens his eyes and everything is still all wrong. When he looks around, he doesn't recognize anything about where he is either. The bathroom leads back into a sparsely decorated bedroom, with a large, low bed, and concrete walls hung with framed black & white photographs. Jeans and hoodies are thrown over a chair in the corner, and there's a cat sitting on the bed, looking at him.

He concentrates on not freaking out, even though his heart is still pounding. He focuses his breathing, filling his lungs and exhaling through his nose. Nope, not going to freak out.

He just has to figure out what's happened to his body, and where he is, and how to fix it all back. He hopes nothing weird is currently being done to his own body.

So far, he knows he's a guy who lives in a loft with a grey tabby cat. Not much to go on, then. He starts searching. The night stand reveal nothing much. Books - beat-up copies of a book on digital photography & Marley & Me, -- a lamp, some ticket stubs, and last, a small framed photo of the guy who's body he's borrowing with a pretty girl with long blonde hair, and bright eyes. There are condoms in the drawer, and a big heavy flash light. Nothing with a name on it, though.

OK, this guy is a neat freak photographer with a girlfriend and a cat. Even his clutter is contained.

He pads out of the bedroom, into a wide-open living space, and he finally sees something useful. There's a wallet, Powerbook and phone on the coffee table. He flops onto the couch, and grabs the wallet. The license inside gives him a name - Jonathan J. Walker - and an address, Chicago, Illinois.

Brendon's never even been to Chicago before. And he doesn't know any Walkers. He concentrates on the name and the little picture on the license, but it doesn't produce any burried memories about what the fuck is going on.

His head his starting to hurt, so he goes into the kitchen for water, but finds a freshly brewed pot of coffee. He pours a mug, and takes it back around to the sofa. The cat has followed him out of the bedroom, and is sitting on the kitchen bar, staring at him.

While he's trying to decide on what to do next, the phone on the coffee table starts to ring loudly.

The caller ID shows his own phone number, and his heart speeds up a bit as he answers.

"Hello?" The sound of the new voice startles him.

The voice on the phone is his own familiar voice, "Brendon?"

"Holy shit, is this Jonathan? Are you in my body, too?"

"Yeah, I guess I am. It's Jon. I'm in your room. I can't believe this."

"Maybe we're asleep, and dreaming the same dream."

"Yeah, cause that happens sometimes."

"Hey, I don't know what to think!"

"Sorry; this is kind of hard to deal with," Jon says.

"I know. How freaky fucking Friday is this shit?"

"Beyond freaky."

Brendon gets up, and paces through back and forth.

"Is Dylan ok?" Jon asks.

"Is Dylan the cat who's won't stop staring at me?" Dylan mews loudly when Brendon says his name.

"Yeah, that's him."

"He's here. Dylan is my dog's name, too. She's there, right? And Shane is my roommate. Does he know you're me?"

"I heard someone moving around outside your room earlier, but I was afraid to go out there."

"Ok, so we're probably not having a mutual hallucination. How do we fix it? I don't want to have to pretend to be you at work, or with your girlfriend or something. And I think don't think Shane going to get suspicious if you try to hide in my room for the rest of my life."

"I work for myself, mostly, so you don't have to worry about that. But, uh, Tom - he's my best friend - we usually see each other every day. He'll definitely know something's up."

Brendon thinks about trying to call Shane, or anyone really, and explaining over the phone that he woke up in another guy's body, in another city and quickly dismisses it. "Should we try to get together? Maybe we'll switch back if we see each other..."

"That sounds good."

"You should come here. Dylan-cat will be alright for a while."

"Shane would probably have questions if I just leave for Chicago for no reason." Brendon says.

"Probably. I can get you a ticket, and we'll split it later, or something."

"My computer in on the desk under all that stuff. You won't need a password.

"I'll find it. Oh, could you feed Dylan? There's food under the kitchen sink."

"Sure. If Shane comes in, tell him I'm sick."

"That might be the best plan for you, too. If you hear from Tom or my mother, just say I'm sick."

Brendon pretty much plans not to answer the phone if anyone other than Jon calls him, but he doesn't say that. They hang up, and he returns to the kitchen to find Dylan's cat food easily enough, and pours some into the bowl. He refills his water, too.

He breathes out, the conversation with Jonathan -- Jon -- coming back to him. It's so fucking bizarre, but Jon really seemed on top of things, so Brendon actually relaxes a bit. In Jon's room again, he finds clean clothes gets dressed and manages to do so without looking at Jon's naked body. It seems like it would be inappropriate. Bad enough he'd already touched his penis earlier, but in Brendon's defense, he'd hadn't known yet. Oh god, he's going to have to pee again eventually.

Once he's dressed, he stands in front of the mirror, studying his new face some more. He looks sort of boyish, cute and friendly. If Brendon saw him in a cafe or something, he'd want to talk to him. Maybe this whole body swapping thing was just supposed to help him meet Jon. Or maybe he's supposed to learn something. Or maybe this is some awful Mormon curse for kids who refuse to go on their Missions and, instead, leave the church and come out to their parents.

Either way, he thinks he's handing this all incredibly well. In the living room, Jon has a pretty impressive stereo set up, and Brendon finds something to play to pass the time while he waits for Jon to call back with his flight information.

Dylan is still staring at him, and Brendon gets the idea that he knows Jon's body is hosting an interloper. He wouldn't be surprised, at this point, if animals could tell when you were in the wrong body.

"Hey, little Dylan-cat." Dylan hisses and crouches down. Brendon backs off.

In the end, he doesn't have to wait long. Jon's phone rings again, and Brendon checks for his number before answering again. "Brendon, I told Shane. He's pretty freaked out. Plus, Dylan - your dog Dylan - growls at me when I try to leave the room."

"Dylan-cat can tell something's up here, too. Should I call Shane? Is he mad?"

"Shane left. With Dylan. Um, Dylan-dog. He said they were going for a long walk, and that you should call him when you were done being all 'obnoxious and crazy'."

"Jon, what did you say?"

"He caught me off guard! You were supposed to be writing music for his movie, and he got mad when I tried to tell him I was sick. He just thought you were trying to get out of it."

"Oh, god! I forgot, the movie score. I need to get down there. Did you get the ticket?"

"I got it. I can email you the boarding pass. You have my wallet? My Am-Ex is in there. You need that, and my license. There's cab numbers on the phone. Your flight's in a few hours. I figured sooner than later, right?"

"Definitely. Not that I'm not having a blast alone in your body, in your apartment, with your cat hissing at me and everything."

Jon laughs a surprised chuckle. "Same here. Hey, can you bring my camera? The case and everything should be on the desk under that big window."

"Got it. Jon? When Shane gets back, just tell him to give you some time, you'll explain it all. And promise the film score will be done in time, not to worry."

"OK, Brendon. I'll see you soon."

"See you, Jon."

Brendon figures he shouldn't go to the airport with just a camera, doesn't want to be the suspicious dude with the confused look in his eyes, and no luggage.

"OK, little Dylan-cat. I'm going to go home, now. And figure out how to get your daddy back here, in his own body."

Dylan doesn't move from his perch on the kitchen counter. He hisses again, lowly. "Right; me, too, little kitty. Me, too."

He drains the cold mug of coffee he'd forgotten about, and goes to pack some of Jon's things into a bag. Once he's done, and has his boarding pass printed, he calls for a cab, and makes sure he can find Jon's keys. He keeps catching his reflection in mirror on the wall near the door, and every time, his heart jitters in his chest. The cab comes, and the ride to O'Hare provides him a distraction in seeing Chicago fly by through the windows. It's pretty, but gray and cold.

He can't get home soon enough.

Brendon's flight touches down at McCarran, and immediately after getting off the plane, he feels a new kind of calm come over him. Like a puzzle piece sliding into place. Getting back home was definitely the right first step.

He turns Jon's phone back on. There are two missed calls from TOM. He's got to get this phone back to Jon. The sun is setting as he exits the airport and hails a cab. He can't believe he's knocking on his own door, but it's not as though he has his keys.

They're with his body. Inside.

He takes a deep breath as the door opens to reveal Shane, standing in the doorway. He goes all blank and tongue-tied. When Brendon doesn't say anything, Shane says, "hey, man, can I help you?"

"Yeah, hey is Brendon here?"

Shane gives him a long look. "Hold on a minute." He closes the door behind him. Brendon fidgets on the doorstep for a long minute, before the door reopens, and Jon is standing there. His own face and body, but when he looks into his own eyes - and it's so weird - he can tell something is different.

And he must be staring, hard, because it's another long minute before he realizes Shane is lurking behind Jon, and Dylan is sitting at his feet, whimpering.

"Jon?"

"Brendon." Jon steps back to let him him in.

Brendon slides past him. He's hesitant to touch his own body, while he's Jon, and at the same time, he can feel the desire to, pulling at him like strings. "Can you feel that?" He whispers before he can stop himself.

He doesn't need to clarify. Jon nods his head.

"What the fuck is going on here, Brendon?" Shane demands, eyes on Jon.

"I'm Brendon. He was telling you the truth earlier. We woke up like this."

Shane is shaking his head, like he can't fucking believe this. Brendon wants to go over, to ask him if he needs to sit down.

To Jon, he says, "My cousin was here earlier this week with a friend with a stupid name. What was it?" Jon shakes his head, and points to Brendon.

"Cash. He also had that silly dollar sign tattoo."

Shane looks over at Brendon, like he's trying to look through him, or into him. "How did you know that? Brendon, this is a really stupid joke."

Shane trails off, looking pretty frantically between Jon and Brendon.

"I'm sorry, Shane. We don't know what happened. We woke up this way."

"Yeah, we don't even know each other," Jon adds.

"We're trying to figure it out as we go. Jon called me earlier, I was at his apartment in Chicago. I can prove I'm me. Ask more questions."

"What's my girlfriend's name? When did we get Dylan? And sing that song you wrote last week - the one for the movie."

Jon is watching them.

Brendon says, "Regan. You met her in high school, but you've only been dating for two years. We adopted Dylan last spring, from the shelter Ryan works at. She's not supposed to have people food, but we both sneak her bacon and Cheez-its when we don't think the other one is looking. And your melody sounds as sweet/as the last time it was sung."

Jon's singing voice is surprisingly clean and strong. He spares a brief thought to whether or not he could still play the piano and guitar with Jon's hands.

Jon laughs, "Dude, I never sing. That was weird."

"I sing all the time. All I do is music." Jon smiles at him, before looking back down.

Shane still looks incredulous, but less agitated. Brendon, however, is feeling really ramped up. His heart is racing again, and when he thinks about it, he's really pretty hungry. Dylan turns tail, and skirts out of the room, when Brendon moves further into the apartment to put Jon's things down.

"Listen," Shane starts. "I don't know how to believe you, or whatever. This is beyond fucked up."

"Shit, tell me about it. I wouldn't believe it if it weren't actually happening to me."

"I'm going to head over to Regan's place. Call me if, you...figure shit out. Or whatever."

When he's gone, Jon goes into the living room, and drops onto the sofa. "I stayed in your room all day. Maybe we could order something in, and figure this out."

Brendon is relieved. He and Jon are still on the same page. "There's some take-out menus in the kitchen," he says.

Once the food is on the way, Brendon gets his laptop from his room, sparing a minute to check on his things, before joining Jon in the living room.

"I really liked your apartment. It was cool."

"Thanks," Jon says, shyly. "Look, I know we're basically strangers, but I just really want to touch my own face. But you're in there," he gestures to his body, "and it would be even weirder, I think."

"I'm glad you said that," Brendon exclaims. "My fingers are twitchy with wanting to touch you. Or me, I guess."

"Maybe closeness is what's supposed to turn us back."

"Maybe." Brendon gets up from his chair and goes to sit next to Jon on the sofa. Their arms brush when he sits down, and Jon tilts into him when the cushions settle. There is a heavily silent pause.

"I kinda thought that would be it. That we'd change back," Jon says, sadly.

"Yeah."

"I feel a little better, though."

Brendon smiles, "yeah. Oh! I almost forgot. You have messages on your phone. From Tom?"He wrestles Jon's phone from his pocket and passes it over."

Jon listens to his voicemail, while Brendon opens his Powerbook and starts it up. Jon starts to text.

"Are you telling him?"

"Nah. I think I'll wait. Maybe we'll change back before I have to tell him. I may have to make something up, though, so he can go check on Dylan."

Brendon doesn't think Jon sounds like he means it. If Tom's like Shane, he's not going to believe something he just makes up.

"You wanna try Googling it?"

"I can't think of anywhere else to start."

They try every combination of the words 'body-switching', 'body-swapping', 'possession', and 'simultaneous psychotic breakdown', but come up with only weird fan-fiction stories about Harry Potter before the delivery guy is knocking on the door. Brendon jumps up to grab a twenty from his room, before going to the door. He drops the pizza off with Jon before going to the kitchen for beers and plates. He turns the television on for background noise, and rejoins Jon on the sofa.

"We should retrace our steps. Maybe we both did something yesterday that seemed normal, but wasn't."

"Okay, you start." Brendon leaves off from his computer.

"I got up, had coffee, and left for the bakery on the corner. I always get a bialyi there, then I sat at a table to answer email. I have a session to shoot in New York at the end of the month. So, I finished up there...and then Tom called me."

Jon pauses to get more pizza. "We had lunch, pizza, actually, but real Chicago deep dish."

Brendon smiles at him. "I would love to try Chicago pizza."

"It's the best in the country. No doubt."

"People always say that. But I don't have anything really Vegas to say is the best in the country. Ryan really loves Port-of-Subs. But I could take it or leave it."

"You guys have all those giant casino buffets."

"Those are for tourists, though. I've only been in a casino once, on my last birthday. I turned 21. OK, whatever. Back to your day, what happened next?"

"Right, lunch with Tom. We talked about his band. Then I went home. Cassie - my ex-girlfriend- called me about coming by to pick up the rest of her stuff. We actually had another fight. She's still really mad at me. So, uh. After she left, I went for a walk and took some pictures. When I got home, I watched like a million hours of Gossip Girl..."

"Oh shit, I love Gossip Girl!" Brendon's face falls, "But I didn't watch it last night. Me and Shane were watching House."

"Oh, well. That's all I did. After the show, I smoked, and went to bed."

"I didn't smoke last night, either." Brendon drops his crust back into the box. They've mostly demolished the pizza.

"Nothing unusual happened to me yesterday, either."

"What's usual for you?" Jon asks. He turns in to face Brendon, tucking his legs up underneath him.

"I got up, went for a run. I ate cereal here, while I read blogs and stuff on my computer. Then I took Dylan for a walk. After that, I think I took a shower, got dressed. I went into town, to Spencer's family's store to get guitar strings. When I got back here, I wrote for a while - for Shane's film score. I got distracted and played for a while. Shane grabbed me for lunch. I'm sorry, this is really boring."

"I was hoping you'd have gone to some deserted carnival and wished to be a photographer from Chicago."

Brendon laughs. "I love that movie. Are you sure you didn't offend any gypsies and get cursed or something.

"Yeah, I'm like 100% sure."

Brendon wonders what might happen to them if they don't ever switch back. If he's going to have to learn to take pictures and move to Chicago to be Jon.

"We should smoke now."

Jon's eyes light up. "We really should."

"Can't hurt, right?" Brendon shrugs. He heads into the kitchen again and comes back with two more beers, and the shoe box from the cupboard above the sink. He gives the box to Jon, who gets to work rolling a joint. Brendon settles back onto the couch and makes sure their legs are touching. It might not be awful to be Jon, he thinks. He likes animals and pizza. He has friends in bands, and knows how to smoke.

Jon passes the spliff to Brendon for the first hit. Dylan is still nowhere to be seen, and it's getting late. It's been the weirdest day of Brendon's entire life, but by the time he and Jon have finished passing the joint back and forth, he's feeling pretty okay about being here with his new friend Jon. Even though Jon has Brendon's face on.

"You're going to have to learn to do back flips, if you're going to be me. Unless, can you do back flips? You might already know."

Jon's smile looks different, even on his own familiar face. Brendon didn't know he could look so calm. "I can't do back flips. I'm really clumsy. You're going to have to learn to be a photographer and how to play bass."

"I taught myself bass last year," Brendon says.

"That's amazing. Maybe this happened because we both are awesome and play the bass and love Bob Dylan."

"That sounds like a good reason, I think. You gotta learn back flips though. Back flips are key to being me."

"OK, I can learn. Maybe your body knows how to do it, so I can just do it now, by muscle memory. Since I'm in here."

Jon raises his hand, but stops just short of touching Brendon's cheek. Brendon instinctively leans into the touch. "You really are in there, aren't you?" Jon whispers.

Brendon can only nod. Jon follows the line of his jaw lightly with his fingertips. It's easy, now, to see Jon influence on his face. Brendon feels warmth pooling in his stomach, and his breath comes shorter.

"I'm glad I didn't switch with someone awful," Jon says, as he folds his hands together.

"Me, too."

They watch the TV for a bit, snuggled close together. Brendon really feels like he can't get close enough to his own body. Maybe that means his spirit or whatever wants to get back in there. He really hopes so.

"I have a bass here, in the spare room. Do you wanna go play together? It could a nice distraction."

"Yeah, we should definitely go do that."

Brendon's breathes the deepest sigh of relief when he sits down at his piano and can still play with Jon's hands.

Jon laughs loudly, "it's so odd. Watching me play the piano. When I was a kid, I didn't last a year in lessons."

They play every song they both know, and then they start making things up. Before long, it's really late, and they stop before Brendon's neighbors start complaining. Plus they're both yawning every other word.

Brendon strips down to his boxers, like he usually does before bed. When he drops down to do his push-ups, Jon laughs at him.

"I pretty much have never done a single push-up since high school gym."

"I do it to burn energy. I get pretty hyper." When he's done, he climbs under the covers.

Jon gets the lights. In the dark, they're quiet together, and eventually they hear the jingle of Dylan's collar as she slips back into the room. She lies down at the foot of the bed.

"She's keeping an eye on me. So you don't run off with my body."

"Tell her I'm just keeping it safe."

Just before Brendon drops off to sleep, he says, "Jon? Why do you keep a picture of your ex-girlfriend by your bed?"

Jon sighs. "We just broke up a few days ago. I didn't love her enough, I think. She wanted to get married."

"It was a bad breakup," Brendon says.

"Yeah. Like the worst of my life. We fought all the time."

Brendon hmms to show he's listening. He turns into Jon, and pets his arm.

"When she came to get her things yesterday, it brought up all those bad feelings. And on top of it all, a part of me wanted her to stay."

"Were you together for a long time?"

"Three years." Jon hesitates. "I wished I'd never met her."

"Yeah."

"Last night," he clarifies. "I was going to sleep, and I was running our relationship through my mind, and I wished really hard that I'd never met her."

When it dawns on Brendon what Jon is trying to tell him, he turns to face him up. Jon is looking at the ceiling. "You did wish," Brendon says, accusation evident in tone.

"I know. I didn't wish for this though. Who could know something like this was even plausible?"

"Wow. Why didn't you say anything?"

Jon shrugs. "I don't know, but I didn't want to admit that I caused it, I guess. Plus, I didn't specifically say, 'I wish I could switch bodies with a kid in Vegas I never met before.'"

"That would be a little oddly specific." A minute passes "It's OK. I'm not mad or anything," Brendon says.

"Thanks."

"But could you wish again, now? Just to try it."

"I am."

"Good." He finds Jon's hand beneath the blankets, and squeezes it.

The next thing Brendon knows, his eyes are opening to bright sunshine streaming into his room. He really has to pee. He slips from his bed, and into the bathroom. Once he's standing at the toilet, he looks up, blearily into the mirror, and sees his own face looking back at him, hair messy, and face sleep-swollen. "Holy shit, it worked!" He rushes to the sink to peer more closely into it.

Just then, Jon pops into the door frame, smiling wide. "It worked!"

Brendon can't help it; he grabs at Jon, pulling him into a hug and squeezing him tightly. Jon hugs him back. "Eeee, we got our bodies back." Brendon can't stop smiling. He steps back to look at Jon. He doesn't know what else to say.

"Your body suits you better," Jon says, softly.

Brendon is delighted to hear Jon has the tiniest lisp. He's still holding Jon's arms, but Jon doesn't make any move to pull away. Instead he steps closer. Brendon sways forward and Jon kisses him.

Their mouths slide together, open just slightly, warm and chapped. Jon's beard bristles along his cheek and raises goose bumps all along Brendon's back. Brendon clenches more tightly at Jon's hips, and kisses back, and breaths through his nose. It's funny to grope Jon's body from this side, since he groped it some yesterday when it was his.

When they pull away, Jon is grinning at him pretty hard, and Brendon imagines a matching expression on his face. Which is his again. Brendon knows that Jon might not be the love of his life, or even a new friend. He might turn out to be a guy who lives in Chicago who he had a magical and bizarre weekend with. It doesn't mean he doesn't want to stay close to him right now.

Dylan trots into the bathroom, nosing at the backs of Brendon's knees.

"She needs to go out."

"You should take her. I gotta make a bunch of phone calls."

Jon follows him to the bedroom, where Brendon starts pulling on running clothes. "Can you stay, today? I mean, I know you have to go home, eventually. Or soon. Or...but, if you stay for a while, I would like that."

"Yeah, don't worry. I'd like to stay, too."

"Good." He sat down to tie on his trainers.

"When you get back, we'll go eat and talk and everything."

Brendon still feels like he's grinning too much, but he also can't stop. "I'll be back soon."

"I'll be here," Jon promises.