Fic: Because It Takes Two to Whisper Quietly
Inspired by August 23rd's Semi-Weekly Man-on-Man on jim_and_bones (comm is member-locked - join to see the pics. ;D)
Part of the Loft-Lovers!verse:
-- because it takes two to whisper quietly
-- wrap your hand around mine
-- clutchin' my coffee, callin' me sugar
-- our lips can touch and our cheeks can brush, 'cause our lips can touch here
-- you are the one, the one who lies close to me, whispers hello, i've missed you quite terribly
“Jim?” he calls as he drops his keys onto the kitchen counter. The apartment’s surprisingly quiet, even for the hour, and he knows Jim didn’t have a gig tonight. Frowning, he slips off his shoes and kicks them over to the door, sighing as he flexes his toes against the cool concrete floor. Dumping his coat over the back of the couch, he leans around the partition to peek into the bedroom, surprised to see the lump in the middle of their bed - it’s only 11:30 and, anyway, Jim always waits up for him.
He sits down on the edge of the bed and puts his hand on what he suspects is Jim’s back, rubbing comfortingly when he feels Jim shift under the touch. He sits there for a minute like that, staring at Jim’s blanket-wrapped form as though he can divine the answers from the blanket’s knit, then stands and pulls off his scrubs, exchanging them for a far more comfortable pair of sleep pants and a tanktop. He knows he really ought to shower, can still smell the hospital on his skin, but he doesn’t want to leave Jim alone for even that long, strangely concerned by how closed-off and quiet Jim is. Not to mention the fact that Leonard has yet to actually see the man.
“Jim,” he says, sitting down on the bed again and poking Jim’s shoulder. There’s a murmur from under the covers. Leonard pokes him again, harder, and the mutter gets a little louder, accompanied by a hand darting out of the covers to wave him off. Raising an eyebrow, he pokes Jim once more, lower, near his armpit, and there’s a muffled squawk. In a flurry of sudden movement, Jim tosses back the covers and sits up, glaring at Leonard.
“You’re an asshole, y’know that?” Jim demands, though his ire is somewhat defeated by the way his hair is sticking up in all directions and his t-shirt has gotten all twisted around his torso.
Leonard nods, biting his cheek to keep from smiling. “I’ve been told, yes.”
“Hmph.” Jim scowls at him once more before flopping back on the pillows and burying his head under the covers once more. Leonard frowns, eyebrow twitching.
“Jim,” he starts again, pulling at the covers and huffing when Jim just tugs back. They tug-of-war over the blankets until Leonard gets fed up with the whole thing and abruptly lets go. There’s a muffled whimper from under the covers after Jim’s hands snap back into his face. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he snaps, ignoring it, arms crossed and glaring at Jim’s pillow.
There’s silence from under the blankets and Leonard finds the frown slipping off his face. Finally Jim’s hand pops out of the covers again, this time holding Jim’s iPhone (the kid and his toys - Leonard’s never understood). When he takes the phone, he sees it’s open to Jim’s e-mail and he quickly scans through the message, the pit of his stomach falling out as he reaches the bottom.
“Jim, wha-Why didn’t you call me?” he asks, a hint of hurt threading through his voice. The message had come in hours ago - why the hell was he just hearing about it now?
The covers shift as Jim shrugs, his voice small even through the blankets. “Didn’t wanna bother you.”
“What?” Incredulity wipes Leonard’s face blank and this time, when he tugs on the covers, they easily fall back to reveal the miserable expression on Jim’s face.
“It’s just another Goddamn rejection letter,” Jim mutters, crossing his arms across his chest and staring over Leonard’s shoulder. “It’s not the first one and probably won’t be the last.” Despite his nonchalance, there’s a tick fluttering in his jaw and his eyes are damp, the pale blue offsetting the slightest hint of redness.
“Oh, Jim,” Leonard sighs and starts pulling and tugging on the blankets, worming himself underneath their warmth and folding Jim into the curve of his body. He sighs, resting his forehead against the back of Jim’s neck, pressing the occasional kiss between his shoulder blades. Gradually, the tension in Jim’s shoulders softens and he melts back against Leonard’s chest, fingers lacing themselves with Leonard’s.
They don’t talk - as Jim’d pointed out, this wasn’t the first rejection he’d received and there was only so many times Leonard could talk him out of his funks. It isn’t even sexual, though Jim does turn his head for the occasional kiss and Leonard’s hands run gently over Jim’s body every now and then. It’s just comfort and reassurance, a simple way for Leonard to reinforce his promises that, despite the letters, he’s not leaving Jim and Jim's not worthless because no one's picked him up yet. He presses another kiss to Jim’s neck and tightens his arms around him, smiling against Jim’s skin as Jim tucks their joined hands up close to his chest, snuggling deeper into the embrace.
“It’ll turn out, darlin’,” Leonard promises. He’s heard Jim’s music, seen him perform, and knows that it’s only a matter of time and finding the right scout. “There’s bound to be someone lookin’ for your brand of special. Just give it time.” Jim nods vaguely into his pillow, half-asleep. Leonard smiles and kisses his cheek and temple before settling into his own pillow and closing his eyes, not even bothering to turn off the lights in the room. He takes a deep breath and releases it on a sigh, nose pressed against Jim’s neck as he drifts off to sleep himself.
Part of the Loft-Lovers!verse:
-- because it takes two to whisper quietly
-- wrap your hand around mine
-- clutchin' my coffee, callin' me sugar
-- our lips can touch and our cheeks can brush, 'cause our lips can touch here
-- you are the one, the one who lies close to me, whispers hello, i've missed you quite terribly
“Jim?” he calls as he drops his keys onto the kitchen counter. The apartment’s surprisingly quiet, even for the hour, and he knows Jim didn’t have a gig tonight. Frowning, he slips off his shoes and kicks them over to the door, sighing as he flexes his toes against the cool concrete floor. Dumping his coat over the back of the couch, he leans around the partition to peek into the bedroom, surprised to see the lump in the middle of their bed - it’s only 11:30 and, anyway, Jim always waits up for him.
He sits down on the edge of the bed and puts his hand on what he suspects is Jim’s back, rubbing comfortingly when he feels Jim shift under the touch. He sits there for a minute like that, staring at Jim’s blanket-wrapped form as though he can divine the answers from the blanket’s knit, then stands and pulls off his scrubs, exchanging them for a far more comfortable pair of sleep pants and a tanktop. He knows he really ought to shower, can still smell the hospital on his skin, but he doesn’t want to leave Jim alone for even that long, strangely concerned by how closed-off and quiet Jim is. Not to mention the fact that Leonard has yet to actually see the man.
“Jim,” he says, sitting down on the bed again and poking Jim’s shoulder. There’s a murmur from under the covers. Leonard pokes him again, harder, and the mutter gets a little louder, accompanied by a hand darting out of the covers to wave him off. Raising an eyebrow, he pokes Jim once more, lower, near his armpit, and there’s a muffled squawk. In a flurry of sudden movement, Jim tosses back the covers and sits up, glaring at Leonard.
“You’re an asshole, y’know that?” Jim demands, though his ire is somewhat defeated by the way his hair is sticking up in all directions and his t-shirt has gotten all twisted around his torso.
Leonard nods, biting his cheek to keep from smiling. “I’ve been told, yes.”
“Hmph.” Jim scowls at him once more before flopping back on the pillows and burying his head under the covers once more. Leonard frowns, eyebrow twitching.
“Jim,” he starts again, pulling at the covers and huffing when Jim just tugs back. They tug-of-war over the blankets until Leonard gets fed up with the whole thing and abruptly lets go. There’s a muffled whimper from under the covers after Jim’s hands snap back into his face. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he snaps, ignoring it, arms crossed and glaring at Jim’s pillow.
There’s silence from under the blankets and Leonard finds the frown slipping off his face. Finally Jim’s hand pops out of the covers again, this time holding Jim’s iPhone (the kid and his toys - Leonard’s never understood). When he takes the phone, he sees it’s open to Jim’s e-mail and he quickly scans through the message, the pit of his stomach falling out as he reaches the bottom.
“Jim, wha-Why didn’t you call me?” he asks, a hint of hurt threading through his voice. The message had come in hours ago - why the hell was he just hearing about it now?
The covers shift as Jim shrugs, his voice small even through the blankets. “Didn’t wanna bother you.”
“What?” Incredulity wipes Leonard’s face blank and this time, when he tugs on the covers, they easily fall back to reveal the miserable expression on Jim’s face.
“It’s just another Goddamn rejection letter,” Jim mutters, crossing his arms across his chest and staring over Leonard’s shoulder. “It’s not the first one and probably won’t be the last.” Despite his nonchalance, there’s a tick fluttering in his jaw and his eyes are damp, the pale blue offsetting the slightest hint of redness.
“Oh, Jim,” Leonard sighs and starts pulling and tugging on the blankets, worming himself underneath their warmth and folding Jim into the curve of his body. He sighs, resting his forehead against the back of Jim’s neck, pressing the occasional kiss between his shoulder blades. Gradually, the tension in Jim’s shoulders softens and he melts back against Leonard’s chest, fingers lacing themselves with Leonard’s.
They don’t talk - as Jim’d pointed out, this wasn’t the first rejection he’d received and there was only so many times Leonard could talk him out of his funks. It isn’t even sexual, though Jim does turn his head for the occasional kiss and Leonard’s hands run gently over Jim’s body every now and then. It’s just comfort and reassurance, a simple way for Leonard to reinforce his promises that, despite the letters, he’s not leaving Jim and Jim's not worthless because no one's picked him up yet. He presses another kiss to Jim’s neck and tightens his arms around him, smiling against Jim’s skin as Jim tucks their joined hands up close to his chest, snuggling deeper into the embrace.
“It’ll turn out, darlin’,” Leonard promises. He’s heard Jim’s music, seen him perform, and knows that it’s only a matter of time and finding the right scout. “There’s bound to be someone lookin’ for your brand of special. Just give it time.” Jim nods vaguely into his pillow, half-asleep. Leonard smiles and kisses his cheek and temple before settling into his own pillow and closing his eyes, not even bothering to turn off the lights in the room. He takes a deep breath and releases it on a sigh, nose pressed against Jim’s neck as he drifts off to sleep himself.