fic: you don't have to put on the red light, part 10
Title: you don't have to put on the red light
Part 10: forget
Author: she_burns1
Pairing: Bret/Jemaine
Rating: R
Summary: Bret hires Jemaine to be his ‘companion’.
Disclaimer: I do not own the ‘Flight of the Conchords’ or anything connected with them
Spoilers: Through SS2 ‘A New Cup’ - though nothing too spoilery.
Notes: Dave has a dirty, dirty mouth…and he talks about some down right filthy sex acts - you can look them up and see what they mean if you want to buuuut - you really, probably shouldn’t.
Back to: Part 9, Part 8, Part 7, Part 6, Part 5, Part 4, Part 3, Part 2, Part 1
“…item three, biscuit. Ah, yes. I had a biscuit in my desk last band meeting and now, it’s suspiciously gone. Now, I don’t want to go pointing any fingers here, guys, but Greg has been out of town on vacation and I know I didn’t eat it, so-”
“Murray,” Jemaine interrupted, “Do we have any gigs?”
“Hrm?” Murray breathed, distracted from his item point, which he had been looking at on his yellow pad, the words ‘Jemaine may have taken biscuit, note big lips. Big lips = big mouth’ written in one margin.
“Gigs?”
“Oh. Yes. Well…ah…let’s see. Ah, yes, um, no. No gigs. Sorry.”
Bret pushed his breath out noisily, his bottom lip sticking out as Jemaine rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, “Typical.”
“Aw! Now, Jemaine, come on! That hurts my feelings! You guys should know I am always trying to get you gigs but, frankly, I’ve been a bit busy lately. Booked solid actually.”
Neither of them spoke for a moment, even though it was obvious by the twinkle in Murray’s eyes that he hoped one of them would ask why. Finally Bret rose to the bait, “Why, Murray?”
“Well,” Murray said with relish, sitting up in his seat, fingers interlacing as he looked from Bret to Jemaine and then back again, “I’ll tell you. I am currently embroiled in a very secretive, very lucrative business venture, which, suffice it to say, will actually benefit the both of you greatly.”
Bret and Jemaine also sat up a bit now, both looking more interested as Jemaine asked, “How so?”
“Well, I can’t say too much really. It’s all pretty hush, hush. Very top secret. But I will say that this…project, mentions both of you quite extensively.”
Jemaine deflated, looking fairly disgusted, “Ah, no, it’s…it’s Mel’s book, isn’t it?”
Murray looked stunned, “Jemaine! How did you-”
“Murray, we just gave you the book a few days ago,” Jemaine bemoaned and Bret, now catching on, almost looked comical in his disbelief, as he added, “That book isn’t…did you…actually read it, Murray?”
“Yes, Bret, of course I read it,” Murray tossed out a bit acidly. Honestly. Did he read it? He continued, “And truthfully, it’s a pretty good work of literary fiction…you know…once…once it’s cleaned up a bit.”
“Cleaned up a bit?” Jemaine asked dubiously.
Murray flushed slightly, leaning back in his chair, hands fidgeting nervously, “Yes, well…some of the language is…it’s a bit…adult. But, you know, it - it does paint you both in a very…positive light. In some respects. It just…just needs some editing. But! Once that’s taken care of, I think we can spin it into something very good for the band. Maybe even work it as an unauthorized biography.”
“An unauthorized biography?” Bret asked, confused.
“Yes, Bret. Many musicians have these books in the stores, these books that are about them but they say they are ‘unauthorized’ - that word, it catches people’s attention. Makes it seem more dangerous. People like danger. In fact….maybe I can find a way to work that into the novel’s title…I should get with Mel on that once she’s out of court-”
“Mel’s at court? What for?” Bret questioned.
“Pick.” Jemaine tossed out tartly.
“Hey, hey, now, Jemaine! I think we’ve had enough of that today,” Murray said sagely, “Honestly, a little attitude goes a long way!”
Jemaine just rolled his eyes and shifted about his chair sulkily as Murray answered Bret’s question, “Mel has some legal issues to deal with. Suffice it to say, I didn’t ask, as it is her personal business but,” he waved his hand about, “You know, it, it was some such deal with a restraining order against some teacher or some such thing…’s not really important as long as she gets back to me as soon as possible about the title for the book!"
Murray started scribbling on the notepad, his excitement obvious, "Now that I’ve thought about this unauthorized thing, I’m thinking maybe we can have a title that’s something like that, you know. Maybe we could call it ‘Flight of the Conchords: Bret and Jemaine, the forbidden account’ or ‘Bret and Jemaine, the story you shouldn’t read’ and we can underline, ‘shouldn’t’.”
“Don’t you want people to read it?”
“Bret, people will want to read it more if they think they shouldn’t! That’s what I meant about the unauthorized biography! The more people are warned about something, the more they’re told not to do it, the…you know…the more likely that they are…going to. Do it.”
“Ah!” Bret smiled, getting it, “I see. Yeah. Yeah, that’s cool.”
Murray stop writing and beamed, “Glad to see you’re on board! Now, if only you could get your more gloomy counterpart to see the light-”
Both Murray and Bret looked at Jemaine at this point, who merely shook his head. The phone rang and Murray looked a bit surprised. He clicked a button on the intercom, “Greg? Greg, who’s on the phone?”
There was no answer and the phone continued to ring. Murray looked frustrated and clicked the intercom button again, “Greg? Greg!”
He released the button and leaned back, looking affronted, “Honestly! Where is he? Slacking off, I suspect…that’s Greg for you-”
“Murray, you told us he was on vacation.” Bret supplied helpfully.
“I did?”
“Yes. When you mentioned item three, you said-”
“Oh! Yes! Right! He’s not back until next Monday. Still. Typical. I’ll bet wherever he is, he’s slacking off. Greg,” Murray shook his head and finally picked up the ringing phone, “Hello, Murray Hewitt speaking.”
There was an answer on the other end and Murray beamed, “Ah, yes! I’ve been expecting your call. No. Yes. Yes. Trust me, we’re interested. Very interested. Yeah. Yes. Okay. No, that’s great. Great! Yes! I’m looking forward to seeing you too. Okay. All right, bye then.”
Murray hung up and returned his attention to his yellow pad, “Let’s see, guys, where were we…item four-”
“Who was it?” Jemaine asked, his tone not so much indicating that he really wanted to know but more asking for the sake of asking, his whole demeanor showing his boredom.
“Hmm?”
“On the phone.”
“Yeah, Murray, was it about a gig?” Bret asked hopefully.
“A gig?”
“Yeah, a gig, you said ‘we’re’ very interested. So, I thought, maybe-”
“Oh, ah, no. Mm, mm, no, nope, not a gig. That was, ah, Jim. Actually.”
Bret smiled, “You and Jim made up!”
“Yes, actually, as a matter of fact he was…well…you see, I said ‘we’ because he…well…you see, we’re, we’re sort of…in the process of making up, so, I told him, you know, I told him and you and Jemaine and I were coming over to his place to play poker. You know, make him feel at ease, if you guys were coming there too, with me-”
“Murray, Jim doesn’t like me,” Jemaine pointed out, “And I really think he doesn’t like Bret.”
Bret looked thoughtful, “No. Think he likes me actually.”
Murray seemed a bit sheepish, as he said reluctantly, “Yes. In fact, Jemaine, Jim has actually, well, he’s made mention that he rather likes Bret…never really…I mean, he sort of has forgiven Bret for all that…miscommunication. Earlier. When we all first attempted to be friends. Hasn’t forgiven you though. Actually, he, well, he really doesn’t like you.”
Jemaine frowned and Murray hurried on, “Well, I mean, earlier, just now, when I said that I had told him Bret, you, and I were coming over to his place to play poker I may have, you know, just added you so as to, to not hurt your feelings. I may have really just told him Bret and I were coming over.”
Jemaine shrugged, muttering under his breath, “Fine. Sure. What do I care…bastards…”
“Well, now, Jemaine, you did call him a dick-”
“I did not!” Jemaine gasped hotly.
“But you did.”
“No, I didn’t!”
“Regardless, that sort of thing…one doesn’t really forget it. Or forgive it. So, Jim, he’s not a big fan of yours. He’s all right with Bret though. And…well…I mean, he seems to be…open. To me. Again. I’d like to work it all out, so-”
Jemaine had a sudden thought and sat up, looking slightly shrewd, “When is this poker game?”
Murray shrugged, not sure where this line of questioning was going, “About six tonight.”
“Okay, good. Bret can go with you then.”
Bret looked a bit flabbergasted, “Wait…what?”
Jemaine tried to look casual, his eyes on his fingernails as he tossed out, “You should go with Murray, Bret. Help him out.”
Bret’s mouth flapped silently a moment. He didn’t really want to go to a poker game with Murray and Jim with their issues still there and he looked helplessly at Jemaine, surprised his friend was tossing him under the bus, “But…Jemaine, don’t…don’t you and I have….to do…do something?”
Jemaine lifted one shoulder and let it drop, “Nope. Not that I can think of.”
Murray leaned towards Bret, eyes all eager, “Bret, it…it would certainly mean a lot. To me….you helping out…”
Bret felt caught and he narrowed his eyes accusingly at Jemaine a minute before returning his attention to an expectant Murray, saying with some defeat, “Yeah…I, I guess I can go.”
“Excellent! All settled then. Now, item four…oh, no, wait…item four was about the poker game. Yeah…I, um, I was going to find some way to work that out to sound like it was a gig. Huh. Yes. Well. You’ll have to forgive me for the attempted trickery on my part. Or, I mean, it’s…it’s not really attempted now since I didn’t actually attempt it. Thanks to Bret,” he smiled conspiratorially at Bret, “Thanks again, Bret.”
Bret’s responded with a mumbled affirmative. The band meeting drew to a close and both Bret and Jemaine left. Bret nudged Jemaine hard with one elbow, “Why did you offer me up to Murray like that?”
Jemaine tried his best to look innocent, “What? I thought you’d want to help him.”
Bret’s eyes narrowed, “You’re up to something…”
“Bret, honestly, I am not,” Jemaine said, his tone not at all convincing.
88888888888
Jemaine was, indeed, up to something as Bret reluctantly left later that evening for his poker game with Murray and Jim. There had been much whining on Bret’s part, as he had pointed out that he didn’t know how to play poker and even if he did, he wouldn’t want to be playing it with Murray and Jim and couldn’t he just call out sick.
But Jemaine had done his level best to reassure Bret while also lying on nice dollops of guilt about how Bret couldn’t let Murray do this alone and how they were expecting him and such. Once Bret left, Jemaine waited a few impatient minutes in the apartment, just pacing, making sure his friend was long gone before he exited the apartment and went downstairs.
He rushed to the Pawn Shop and entered a bit breathlessly, as he had actually run some of the trek. Dave didn’t notice, not even looking up from the hand-held game he was playing, his voice distracted, “Hey Bret, Jemaine, ‘sup.”
“It’s…just…me…Dave,” Jemaine breathed.
Dave didn’t look up, “Oh, hey Bret.”
“No…the…other one…”
Dave glanced up for a second, and then returned his attention to the game, “Oh, hey man, it’s you. Sorry, but, you know, all your Irish assholes sound alike.”
“New…Zealand.”
“Yeah, probably. Sound a bit winded, dude, you run here or something?”
Jemaine nodded but Dave didn’t catch the action, “Whatever. So, where’s your john?”
“John…I don’t-I don’t know any John. Is he a friend of yours?”
“What?” Dave looked up again, confused.
“You just asked me about John-”
“Yeah, your john, you know, Bret.”
“Bret’s name is Bret, not John.”
“No, man,” Dave rolled his eyes, eyes back to his game, “When you’re a prostitute you call your clients ‘john’s’. Bret’s your john, so I was asking where is-”
“Oh. Right. Yes. I see. And no, he’s not my - it’s not like that. Told you. I’m not his-”
“Dude, seriously, I don’t care if you’re his bro ho, ‘kay? Long as you don’t try to rub that shit off on me. I’m serious, you keep that dick and ass stuff to yourself - me, I’m all about the pussy….and boobs. I like boobs…unless they’re, you know, disproportionate. Like, if one is bigger than the other or they’re bigger than the chick’s head. Some guys like that, but to me, when you’re carrying some basketball size tits under your shirt-”
“Dave, it’s not - look, Bret and I aren’t like that and…’s why I came to see you actually.”
Dave paused his game and raised an eyebrow, “Um. You’re not…asking me out or something are you? ‘Cause like I said-”
“No! Would you - I want to ask you about bars!” Jemaine snapped irritably.
“Ohh…kay,” Dave drew out, “What about them?”
“Do you go to any? Bars, I mean.”
Dave shrugged, “Now and again.”
“Know any good ones?”
“A few.”
“The girls hot there?”
Dave’s head lolled about his neck a bit as he thought about this, he put his game down on the counter and rubbed one hand at his chin before finally nodding, “Yeah, as a matter of fact, now that I think about it, there’s this one in particular that-”
“Great.” Jemaine interrupted hurriedly, “Look. Do you want to go with me to that bar this Friday? Be my wingman?”
“Whoa, whoa - back up. Be your wingman? What about Bret? Isn’t he-”
“He’s not invited.”
Dave looked stumped, “Really?”
“Yes. Just you and me. So? What do you say?”
Dave’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, “What happened?”
“What?” Jemaine gasped.
“What happened? Between you and Bret. Something must have happened, not like you to not have him attached at the hip. Must have been something big too…something bad. He’s always your wingman-”
Jemaine fidgeted, “It’s…nothing…”
“Ah, come on, man. Must be a pretty good story if you don’t want to tell me. Something really fucking hysterical. What is it? He catch you giving a Birmingham booty call?”
“A what?”
“Or maybe a Boston pancake, an Abe Lincoln? Oh! Was it a blumpkin! I’ll bet it was a blumpkin! That’d be hilarious, if he caught you during that…or maybe an angry pirate, a snow plow-”
”Dave, I don’t know any of these words you’re using, they’re crazy words. Have you gone crazy, Dave? If you’ve gone crazy I don’t think…I don’t think Friday will work for me-”
“No, dude, those are…I was talking about…oh, never mind, I mean, all those things you’d have to have a girl to do with and, yeah, I don’t think you’ve had a girl in…what, years now? And, I mean, I hope you and Bret aren’t doing this stuff-”
“No, Dave, we’re not - I mean, see, this…this is why I want you to go out to this bar with me. So I can get a girl.”
“A girl you can do a snow plow with?”
“Sure...I…guess,” Jemaine said this haltingly, as he still didn’t know what a ‘snow plow’ was and he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to do something like that. Ever.
Dave just nodded, bottom lip sticking out, “Nice, nice. Might be able to help you out there, my friend. I know a few ladies into that kinky sort of shit. I met them at this bar, in fact-”
“Good! So, Friday?”
“Still didn’t tell me what happened between you and Bret though.”
Jemaine groaned, “Fine. We just…last night we had dinner and then we watched a movie and there was some dancing-”
“So you were on a date.”
“What?! No!”
“You said dinner and a movie, bro, most people call that a date.”
“Is it a date when you have dinner and a movie with your parents?”
“Touché. But you know…first off, I hardly ever see my folks and second, you also said dancing.”
Jemaine blinked stunned, had he said that? He ran the conversation over in his head and was pretty sure he had. Shoot. He licked his lips, “No, I didn’t.”
“Yeah, dude, you did.”
“No, no…I-I think you…sometimes I think you hear what you want to hear.”
Dave’s eyes narrowed, his voice skeptical, “Seriously?”
“I didn’t say dancing.” Jemaine stressed.
Dave sighed and just shook his head, “Okay, man, whatever you say.”
“Right, well, anyway, so we had dinner and a movie and, I mean, we’ve done that before-”
“So, you’ve been dating a while now?” Dave interrupted and at Jemaine’s look he couldn’t help but chuckle, raising up his hands, “Okay, okay, so you were hanging out and-”
Jemaine sighed, “And it just…it got…weird. So, you know, I think-I think we should see other people. Spend some…some time apart. It’s…not bad for me to have another wingman. Might attract ladies I never would have had before. Different dynamic.”
“True, true.”
“That mean you’re in then?”
“Well, I’ll tell you, Jemaine, I can’t this Friday, but, you know, sure, soon…we can do that. Check out my bar and all. Just…I mean, you do know we’ll need some money, right? I mean, we can’t really pick up chicks without it-”
“Yeah, cash won’t be a problem. I’ll have that.”
“You will?”
“I told you…’s why I’m helping, Bret.”
“Oh! Right, right, your john. Okay. All right. Cool, man, I’ll let you know when I’m free. I’ve got your number.”
“Okay. Good. Settled then. See you, Dave.”
Dave had all ready returned his attention back to his game and Jemaine left feeling rightly confident. He walked the streets of New York with his hands in his jeans pockets, face upturned to the warm breeze moving through the dark night air.
Everything was falling into place nicely. Now all he had to do was collect the rest of the money from Bret and everything would be settled and done. He could finally get things back to normal. He could finally forget…
Pulling Bret close for a warm hug…
Bret running his hands through his hair as he lay back against him, falling into blissful sleep…
Playing with Bret’s hair, Bret’s body curled up against him…
The feeling of Bret’s limbs over top of his body as they slept together on the floor, the smell of Bret on his clothes…
The weight of Bret’s legs resting on him as they sat on the couch talking…
His fingers interlaced with Bret’s, the heavy pounding of his heart as they held hands…
The taste of the ice cream that he had wiped off Bret’s face…
Bret over top of him, their legs entangled, hips creating friction and Bret looking down at him with such intensity, looking at his lips and his mouth had been watering with a want and a need he didn’t want to name…
Bret burrowing into him as they watched the movie, the warm, comfortable feeling…
Dancing with Bret, holding him close, the feel of his lips brushing against Bret’s soft curly hair…
Bret’s hot skin under his hands, his fingers brushing the very tip of Bret’s…and Bret with that look in his eyes as he awoke, that hot hungry look that begged for…
Jemaine stopped walking and felt himself shiver despite the glaring lack of cold.
But then, this hadn’t been the shiver of cold…this shiver had held too much heat.
No. No. He had to forget. Forget, forget, forget…
The chant continued through his mind as continued on his way home.
On to Part 11
Part 10: forget
Author: she_burns1
Pairing: Bret/Jemaine
Rating: R
Summary: Bret hires Jemaine to be his ‘companion’.
Disclaimer: I do not own the ‘Flight of the Conchords’ or anything connected with them
Spoilers: Through SS2 ‘A New Cup’ - though nothing too spoilery.
Notes: Dave has a dirty, dirty mouth…and he talks about some down right filthy sex acts - you can look them up and see what they mean if you want to buuuut - you really, probably shouldn’t.
Back to: Part 9, Part 8, Part 7, Part 6, Part 5, Part 4, Part 3, Part 2, Part 1
“…item three, biscuit. Ah, yes. I had a biscuit in my desk last band meeting and now, it’s suspiciously gone. Now, I don’t want to go pointing any fingers here, guys, but Greg has been out of town on vacation and I know I didn’t eat it, so-”
“Murray,” Jemaine interrupted, “Do we have any gigs?”
“Hrm?” Murray breathed, distracted from his item point, which he had been looking at on his yellow pad, the words ‘Jemaine may have taken biscuit, note big lips. Big lips = big mouth’ written in one margin.
“Gigs?”
“Oh. Yes. Well…ah…let’s see. Ah, yes, um, no. No gigs. Sorry.”
Bret pushed his breath out noisily, his bottom lip sticking out as Jemaine rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, “Typical.”
“Aw! Now, Jemaine, come on! That hurts my feelings! You guys should know I am always trying to get you gigs but, frankly, I’ve been a bit busy lately. Booked solid actually.”
Neither of them spoke for a moment, even though it was obvious by the twinkle in Murray’s eyes that he hoped one of them would ask why. Finally Bret rose to the bait, “Why, Murray?”
“Well,” Murray said with relish, sitting up in his seat, fingers interlacing as he looked from Bret to Jemaine and then back again, “I’ll tell you. I am currently embroiled in a very secretive, very lucrative business venture, which, suffice it to say, will actually benefit the both of you greatly.”
Bret and Jemaine also sat up a bit now, both looking more interested as Jemaine asked, “How so?”
“Well, I can’t say too much really. It’s all pretty hush, hush. Very top secret. But I will say that this…project, mentions both of you quite extensively.”
Jemaine deflated, looking fairly disgusted, “Ah, no, it’s…it’s Mel’s book, isn’t it?”
Murray looked stunned, “Jemaine! How did you-”
“Murray, we just gave you the book a few days ago,” Jemaine bemoaned and Bret, now catching on, almost looked comical in his disbelief, as he added, “That book isn’t…did you…actually read it, Murray?”
“Yes, Bret, of course I read it,” Murray tossed out a bit acidly. Honestly. Did he read it? He continued, “And truthfully, it’s a pretty good work of literary fiction…you know…once…once it’s cleaned up a bit.”
“Cleaned up a bit?” Jemaine asked dubiously.
Murray flushed slightly, leaning back in his chair, hands fidgeting nervously, “Yes, well…some of the language is…it’s a bit…adult. But, you know, it - it does paint you both in a very…positive light. In some respects. It just…just needs some editing. But! Once that’s taken care of, I think we can spin it into something very good for the band. Maybe even work it as an unauthorized biography.”
“An unauthorized biography?” Bret asked, confused.
“Yes, Bret. Many musicians have these books in the stores, these books that are about them but they say they are ‘unauthorized’ - that word, it catches people’s attention. Makes it seem more dangerous. People like danger. In fact….maybe I can find a way to work that into the novel’s title…I should get with Mel on that once she’s out of court-”
“Mel’s at court? What for?” Bret questioned.
“Pick.” Jemaine tossed out tartly.
“Hey, hey, now, Jemaine! I think we’ve had enough of that today,” Murray said sagely, “Honestly, a little attitude goes a long way!”
Jemaine just rolled his eyes and shifted about his chair sulkily as Murray answered Bret’s question, “Mel has some legal issues to deal with. Suffice it to say, I didn’t ask, as it is her personal business but,” he waved his hand about, “You know, it, it was some such deal with a restraining order against some teacher or some such thing…’s not really important as long as she gets back to me as soon as possible about the title for the book!"
Murray started scribbling on the notepad, his excitement obvious, "Now that I’ve thought about this unauthorized thing, I’m thinking maybe we can have a title that’s something like that, you know. Maybe we could call it ‘Flight of the Conchords: Bret and Jemaine, the forbidden account’ or ‘Bret and Jemaine, the story you shouldn’t read’ and we can underline, ‘shouldn’t’.”
“Don’t you want people to read it?”
“Bret, people will want to read it more if they think they shouldn’t! That’s what I meant about the unauthorized biography! The more people are warned about something, the more they’re told not to do it, the…you know…the more likely that they are…going to. Do it.”
“Ah!” Bret smiled, getting it, “I see. Yeah. Yeah, that’s cool.”
Murray stop writing and beamed, “Glad to see you’re on board! Now, if only you could get your more gloomy counterpart to see the light-”
Both Murray and Bret looked at Jemaine at this point, who merely shook his head. The phone rang and Murray looked a bit surprised. He clicked a button on the intercom, “Greg? Greg, who’s on the phone?”
There was no answer and the phone continued to ring. Murray looked frustrated and clicked the intercom button again, “Greg? Greg!”
He released the button and leaned back, looking affronted, “Honestly! Where is he? Slacking off, I suspect…that’s Greg for you-”
“Murray, you told us he was on vacation.” Bret supplied helpfully.
“I did?”
“Yes. When you mentioned item three, you said-”
“Oh! Yes! Right! He’s not back until next Monday. Still. Typical. I’ll bet wherever he is, he’s slacking off. Greg,” Murray shook his head and finally picked up the ringing phone, “Hello, Murray Hewitt speaking.”
There was an answer on the other end and Murray beamed, “Ah, yes! I’ve been expecting your call. No. Yes. Yes. Trust me, we’re interested. Very interested. Yeah. Yes. Okay. No, that’s great. Great! Yes! I’m looking forward to seeing you too. Okay. All right, bye then.”
Murray hung up and returned his attention to his yellow pad, “Let’s see, guys, where were we…item four-”
“Who was it?” Jemaine asked, his tone not so much indicating that he really wanted to know but more asking for the sake of asking, his whole demeanor showing his boredom.
“Hmm?”
“On the phone.”
“Yeah, Murray, was it about a gig?” Bret asked hopefully.
“A gig?”
“Yeah, a gig, you said ‘we’re’ very interested. So, I thought, maybe-”
“Oh, ah, no. Mm, mm, no, nope, not a gig. That was, ah, Jim. Actually.”
Bret smiled, “You and Jim made up!”
“Yes, actually, as a matter of fact he was…well…you see, I said ‘we’ because he…well…you see, we’re, we’re sort of…in the process of making up, so, I told him, you know, I told him and you and Jemaine and I were coming over to his place to play poker. You know, make him feel at ease, if you guys were coming there too, with me-”
“Murray, Jim doesn’t like me,” Jemaine pointed out, “And I really think he doesn’t like Bret.”
Bret looked thoughtful, “No. Think he likes me actually.”
Murray seemed a bit sheepish, as he said reluctantly, “Yes. In fact, Jemaine, Jim has actually, well, he’s made mention that he rather likes Bret…never really…I mean, he sort of has forgiven Bret for all that…miscommunication. Earlier. When we all first attempted to be friends. Hasn’t forgiven you though. Actually, he, well, he really doesn’t like you.”
Jemaine frowned and Murray hurried on, “Well, I mean, earlier, just now, when I said that I had told him Bret, you, and I were coming over to his place to play poker I may have, you know, just added you so as to, to not hurt your feelings. I may have really just told him Bret and I were coming over.”
Jemaine shrugged, muttering under his breath, “Fine. Sure. What do I care…bastards…”
“Well, now, Jemaine, you did call him a dick-”
“I did not!” Jemaine gasped hotly.
“But you did.”
“No, I didn’t!”
“Regardless, that sort of thing…one doesn’t really forget it. Or forgive it. So, Jim, he’s not a big fan of yours. He’s all right with Bret though. And…well…I mean, he seems to be…open. To me. Again. I’d like to work it all out, so-”
Jemaine had a sudden thought and sat up, looking slightly shrewd, “When is this poker game?”
Murray shrugged, not sure where this line of questioning was going, “About six tonight.”
“Okay, good. Bret can go with you then.”
Bret looked a bit flabbergasted, “Wait…what?”
Jemaine tried to look casual, his eyes on his fingernails as he tossed out, “You should go with Murray, Bret. Help him out.”
Bret’s mouth flapped silently a moment. He didn’t really want to go to a poker game with Murray and Jim with their issues still there and he looked helplessly at Jemaine, surprised his friend was tossing him under the bus, “But…Jemaine, don’t…don’t you and I have….to do…do something?”
Jemaine lifted one shoulder and let it drop, “Nope. Not that I can think of.”
Murray leaned towards Bret, eyes all eager, “Bret, it…it would certainly mean a lot. To me….you helping out…”
Bret felt caught and he narrowed his eyes accusingly at Jemaine a minute before returning his attention to an expectant Murray, saying with some defeat, “Yeah…I, I guess I can go.”
“Excellent! All settled then. Now, item four…oh, no, wait…item four was about the poker game. Yeah…I, um, I was going to find some way to work that out to sound like it was a gig. Huh. Yes. Well. You’ll have to forgive me for the attempted trickery on my part. Or, I mean, it’s…it’s not really attempted now since I didn’t actually attempt it. Thanks to Bret,” he smiled conspiratorially at Bret, “Thanks again, Bret.”
Bret’s responded with a mumbled affirmative. The band meeting drew to a close and both Bret and Jemaine left. Bret nudged Jemaine hard with one elbow, “Why did you offer me up to Murray like that?”
Jemaine tried his best to look innocent, “What? I thought you’d want to help him.”
Bret’s eyes narrowed, “You’re up to something…”
“Bret, honestly, I am not,” Jemaine said, his tone not at all convincing.
88888888888
Jemaine was, indeed, up to something as Bret reluctantly left later that evening for his poker game with Murray and Jim. There had been much whining on Bret’s part, as he had pointed out that he didn’t know how to play poker and even if he did, he wouldn’t want to be playing it with Murray and Jim and couldn’t he just call out sick.
But Jemaine had done his level best to reassure Bret while also lying on nice dollops of guilt about how Bret couldn’t let Murray do this alone and how they were expecting him and such. Once Bret left, Jemaine waited a few impatient minutes in the apartment, just pacing, making sure his friend was long gone before he exited the apartment and went downstairs.
He rushed to the Pawn Shop and entered a bit breathlessly, as he had actually run some of the trek. Dave didn’t notice, not even looking up from the hand-held game he was playing, his voice distracted, “Hey Bret, Jemaine, ‘sup.”
“It’s…just…me…Dave,” Jemaine breathed.
Dave didn’t look up, “Oh, hey Bret.”
“No…the…other one…”
Dave glanced up for a second, and then returned his attention to the game, “Oh, hey man, it’s you. Sorry, but, you know, all your Irish assholes sound alike.”
“New…Zealand.”
“Yeah, probably. Sound a bit winded, dude, you run here or something?”
Jemaine nodded but Dave didn’t catch the action, “Whatever. So, where’s your john?”
“John…I don’t-I don’t know any John. Is he a friend of yours?”
“What?” Dave looked up again, confused.
“You just asked me about John-”
“Yeah, your john, you know, Bret.”
“Bret’s name is Bret, not John.”
“No, man,” Dave rolled his eyes, eyes back to his game, “When you’re a prostitute you call your clients ‘john’s’. Bret’s your john, so I was asking where is-”
“Oh. Right. Yes. I see. And no, he’s not my - it’s not like that. Told you. I’m not his-”
“Dude, seriously, I don’t care if you’re his bro ho, ‘kay? Long as you don’t try to rub that shit off on me. I’m serious, you keep that dick and ass stuff to yourself - me, I’m all about the pussy….and boobs. I like boobs…unless they’re, you know, disproportionate. Like, if one is bigger than the other or they’re bigger than the chick’s head. Some guys like that, but to me, when you’re carrying some basketball size tits under your shirt-”
“Dave, it’s not - look, Bret and I aren’t like that and…’s why I came to see you actually.”
Dave paused his game and raised an eyebrow, “Um. You’re not…asking me out or something are you? ‘Cause like I said-”
“No! Would you - I want to ask you about bars!” Jemaine snapped irritably.
“Ohh…kay,” Dave drew out, “What about them?”
“Do you go to any? Bars, I mean.”
Dave shrugged, “Now and again.”
“Know any good ones?”
“A few.”
“The girls hot there?”
Dave’s head lolled about his neck a bit as he thought about this, he put his game down on the counter and rubbed one hand at his chin before finally nodding, “Yeah, as a matter of fact, now that I think about it, there’s this one in particular that-”
“Great.” Jemaine interrupted hurriedly, “Look. Do you want to go with me to that bar this Friday? Be my wingman?”
“Whoa, whoa - back up. Be your wingman? What about Bret? Isn’t he-”
“He’s not invited.”
Dave looked stumped, “Really?”
“Yes. Just you and me. So? What do you say?”
Dave’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, “What happened?”
“What?” Jemaine gasped.
“What happened? Between you and Bret. Something must have happened, not like you to not have him attached at the hip. Must have been something big too…something bad. He’s always your wingman-”
Jemaine fidgeted, “It’s…nothing…”
“Ah, come on, man. Must be a pretty good story if you don’t want to tell me. Something really fucking hysterical. What is it? He catch you giving a Birmingham booty call?”
“A what?”
“Or maybe a Boston pancake, an Abe Lincoln? Oh! Was it a blumpkin! I’ll bet it was a blumpkin! That’d be hilarious, if he caught you during that…or maybe an angry pirate, a snow plow-”
”Dave, I don’t know any of these words you’re using, they’re crazy words. Have you gone crazy, Dave? If you’ve gone crazy I don’t think…I don’t think Friday will work for me-”
“No, dude, those are…I was talking about…oh, never mind, I mean, all those things you’d have to have a girl to do with and, yeah, I don’t think you’ve had a girl in…what, years now? And, I mean, I hope you and Bret aren’t doing this stuff-”
“No, Dave, we’re not - I mean, see, this…this is why I want you to go out to this bar with me. So I can get a girl.”
“A girl you can do a snow plow with?”
“Sure...I…guess,” Jemaine said this haltingly, as he still didn’t know what a ‘snow plow’ was and he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to do something like that. Ever.
Dave just nodded, bottom lip sticking out, “Nice, nice. Might be able to help you out there, my friend. I know a few ladies into that kinky sort of shit. I met them at this bar, in fact-”
“Good! So, Friday?”
“Still didn’t tell me what happened between you and Bret though.”
Jemaine groaned, “Fine. We just…last night we had dinner and then we watched a movie and there was some dancing-”
“So you were on a date.”
“What?! No!”
“You said dinner and a movie, bro, most people call that a date.”
“Is it a date when you have dinner and a movie with your parents?”
“Touché. But you know…first off, I hardly ever see my folks and second, you also said dancing.”
Jemaine blinked stunned, had he said that? He ran the conversation over in his head and was pretty sure he had. Shoot. He licked his lips, “No, I didn’t.”
“Yeah, dude, you did.”
“No, no…I-I think you…sometimes I think you hear what you want to hear.”
Dave’s eyes narrowed, his voice skeptical, “Seriously?”
“I didn’t say dancing.” Jemaine stressed.
Dave sighed and just shook his head, “Okay, man, whatever you say.”
“Right, well, anyway, so we had dinner and a movie and, I mean, we’ve done that before-”
“So, you’ve been dating a while now?” Dave interrupted and at Jemaine’s look he couldn’t help but chuckle, raising up his hands, “Okay, okay, so you were hanging out and-”
Jemaine sighed, “And it just…it got…weird. So, you know, I think-I think we should see other people. Spend some…some time apart. It’s…not bad for me to have another wingman. Might attract ladies I never would have had before. Different dynamic.”
“True, true.”
“That mean you’re in then?”
“Well, I’ll tell you, Jemaine, I can’t this Friday, but, you know, sure, soon…we can do that. Check out my bar and all. Just…I mean, you do know we’ll need some money, right? I mean, we can’t really pick up chicks without it-”
“Yeah, cash won’t be a problem. I’ll have that.”
“You will?”
“I told you…’s why I’m helping, Bret.”
“Oh! Right, right, your john. Okay. All right. Cool, man, I’ll let you know when I’m free. I’ve got your number.”
“Okay. Good. Settled then. See you, Dave.”
Dave had all ready returned his attention back to his game and Jemaine left feeling rightly confident. He walked the streets of New York with his hands in his jeans pockets, face upturned to the warm breeze moving through the dark night air.
Everything was falling into place nicely. Now all he had to do was collect the rest of the money from Bret and everything would be settled and done. He could finally get things back to normal. He could finally forget…
Pulling Bret close for a warm hug…
Bret running his hands through his hair as he lay back against him, falling into blissful sleep…
Playing with Bret’s hair, Bret’s body curled up against him…
The feeling of Bret’s limbs over top of his body as they slept together on the floor, the smell of Bret on his clothes…
The weight of Bret’s legs resting on him as they sat on the couch talking…
His fingers interlaced with Bret’s, the heavy pounding of his heart as they held hands…
The taste of the ice cream that he had wiped off Bret’s face…
Bret over top of him, their legs entangled, hips creating friction and Bret looking down at him with such intensity, looking at his lips and his mouth had been watering with a want and a need he didn’t want to name…
Bret burrowing into him as they watched the movie, the warm, comfortable feeling…
Dancing with Bret, holding him close, the feel of his lips brushing against Bret’s soft curly hair…
Bret’s hot skin under his hands, his fingers brushing the very tip of Bret’s…and Bret with that look in his eyes as he awoke, that hot hungry look that begged for…
Jemaine stopped walking and felt himself shiver despite the glaring lack of cold.
But then, this hadn’t been the shiver of cold…this shiver had held too much heat.
No. No. He had to forget. Forget, forget, forget…
The chant continued through his mind as continued on his way home.
On to Part 11