Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Post Up...And One! ❯ Dont' ( Chapter 13 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
Chapter Thirteen:
“Don’t” Jewel


It was an unusually cool Saturday night when Quatre arrived at Jake’s apartment for the appointed baby-sitting. He had gotten the message that Jake had gotten Mike two days earlier than usual, and was prepared to lose all maturity with the boy. Michael was there to greet him, happily bouncing about as he unlocked the door without his father’s permission, clearly expecting him.

Quatre walked in, finding himself beaming with a smile as the little boy launched himself at his leg and clung onto it with both arms and legs. Walking awkwardly, Quatre shut the door and looked for his father, seeing him no where in sight. He hadn’t talked to Jake since that Thursday, feeling a bit awkward and embarrassed at what had happened.

He tossed his overnight bag aside and pulled the boy from his leg with a loud roar, Michael shouting in exaltation. After he set the boy down, Michael bounced around him excitedly.

“Guess what I did?” he asked, grinning mischievously.

“What? Besides sending the entire west coast screaming in fear...?”

“I got into a fight.”

“With who?”

“This kid named Brian. I don’t like him. He’s a pucker-kisser...”

“Uh...”

“He asked for it. But I hurt my hand,” Michael said, examining his fist. Quatre blinked away the previous comment, and crouched, taking the small fist into his.

“How’d that happen?” he asked, gently running a finger over the scraped skin. Michael’s hands were bony and astoundingly small...it bothered him in that his own hands were so big compared to his.

“I dunno...it just hurt. But I hurt him good! Sent him crying to his mom,” Michael said, with a proud expression on his face. Quatre snickered, reaching up to muss his hair.

“But you probably didn’t hit him right,” he said, examining his knuckles once more.

“Mike’s in trouble for fighting!” Jake shouted from the back room, startling the blond. He didn’t think the guy was listening. “You’d better not be congratulating him, or something like that! I’ll kick your stupid ass!”

Quatre cringed, Michael chuckling as he pulled his fist back. With a frown, Quatre took it back, and held a finger to his lips, signaling for the boy to be quiet. With a confused expression, Michael watched as his fist was manipulated under Quatre’s hands.

“That was a very bad thing, Mike,” he scolded, loud enough for Jake to hear. Once he was sure Michael was paying close attention to him, he made a fist of his own, whispering, “This is how you make a fist. You want to hit with these knuckles here...these are the ones that hurt the most.”

Michael’s eyes widened, and he took very close note of what was being said, staring as Quatre demonstrated with his own fist. Mimicking the fist the blond made, Michael nodded in understanding.

“Violence solves nothing,” Quatre continued in a loud tone, showing Michael how to throw a punch. The boy was copying with eager movements, so Quatre had to straighten, standing to throw a better punch into the air. Nodding in approval when Michael mimicked him, he continued his ‘speech’... “Peace is gained only through negotiations and peaceful talk...not violence. So, the next time this kid bothers you, ignore him. Got it?”

Michael nodded eagerly, then tested out his new super punch on Quatre’s leg. The blond fairly collapsed under the unexpected dead leg, and winced. Laughing, Michael ran around the living room and jumped onto the couch. Quatre straightened, rubbing his leg, and grinned. Then he caught scent of very pleasant smelling cologne, and sniffed experimentally. Turning, he saw Jake standing next to him, glaring heatedly at him.

“I saw that,” he growled tightly.

Quatre managed a sheepish wince, and hurried away. Jake reached out, grabbed his collar, and hauled him back.

“You teach him anything else like that, I’ll personally take you out back and show you how I use my fists,” he threatened, Quatre chuckling nervously.

“Promises, promises,” he muttered.

“I don’t think I should go,” Jake then said indecisively, giving a worried expression at his son. Then performing a double-take on his baby-sitter. He winced. “I think I should just give up on going out...”

“No, go!” Quatre said, giving him a frown. He took in the bruise and the band-aid, poking curiously at both. When his hand was swatted away, he asked critically, “How long has it been since you’ve been out?”

“...Years. Eons. I can’t even remember...”

“Then, go! Just go, and...do your thing...”

“Yeah, daddy!” Michael yipped from the couch, getting up to bounce on the cushions. “Have fun!”

“You’re...letting me go?” Jake asked him with a surprised expression, feeling somewhat crestfallen that his son actually wanted him to go. Usually, Mike threw such a fit if he saw his father dressing up to go out...but it was as if he were practically leaning on his legs to push him out the door.

“Yeah! Q and I are going to have fun!”

“That’s what I’m afraid of...” Jake groaned, running a hand through his hair, and looking back at Quatre nervously. “Maybe I should call over someone else...or drop you two off at someone else’s house.”

“Why?” Quatre asked with a confused frown.

“...Do I really have to answer that? I could just see the two of you, after I leave...breaking out the matches and porn...damn it.”

“Porn? You have porn?”

Jake frowned at him, and sighed uneasily. “I don’t think I should be doing this...”

“What are you doing to do?”

“Just...go out. I...haven’t decided what. But...I thought I should just take up on your offer before you change your mind.”

“And do what...?”

“I...I don’t know. See a movie? Hit the bar? I don’t know...”

Quatre shrugged, folding his arms behind him. He was desperately trying not to notice how good Jake looked tonight. Dressed in dark blue jeans, a pressed shirt, and with his hair fixed in a spiky fashion, he looked good enough to try and hit on. But Quatre didn’t want to risk such a thing, considering that Jake was ‘unconfirmed’, and that Michael was nearby. He didn’t want to cause any trouble in that situation.

“Well, how long will you be out?”

“Probably...I won’t be back until...nine,” Jake drawled out, looking at his watch.

Quatre gave him an exasperated look. “In an hour? GEEZ! Mike, get over here. Help me.”

Jake found himself shoved out the apartment door by both males, the door slamming into place as he stumbled out onto the walkway. While staggering to his feet, he heard the sound of the deadbolt and chain locking into place.

With a frustrated growl, he banged on the door. “I don’t have my keys!”

The door opened barely an inch, and his keys were shoved through the thin slot. The door shut tightly once more.

“Goddamn it...let me in! I need–! My wallet!”

“It’s in your back pocket!”

“How would he know where my fucking wallet is?” Jake grumbled to himself, reaching back to check that it was, indeed, there. He frowned at the door, then gave an exasperated groan, unsure of what to do now. He leaned against the door, pressing his ear against it, listening for any telltale sounds of what was going on in there.

He heard Michael’s whoop of joy, and Quatre’s own joyous shout, and he cringed, fingers curling against the wood. He heard the obvious sounds of running about, combined with the giggles of his son, and the lower sounds of Quatre’s voice. Whatever they were doing was something that made his paternal instincts tingle with the need to know what they were doing.

Finally, he forced himself away from the door, and forced himself to walk. He had, basically, everything he would need...he didn’t need to stick around...but could he trust a twenty-year old to watch over his rambunctious six year old? Especially when that particular person thought and behaved in the same manner?

With one last look directed at his apartment door, Jake walked off toward his car, fearing what he was coming back to tonight.

#20#20#20#20#20#20#20

“All right!” Quatre crowed, surveying the ‘fort’ they had created from the couch cushions and from both beds. He was currently adjusting a sock stuffed with other socks atop of the fort, and had taped a tiny sign on it that labeled it as ‘rabbit’.

Michael had a boiling pot over his head, and was carrying a ‘gun’ crafted out of a duster and an empty toilet roll that was taped on top.

“Now...see this? This is going to be a rabbit. You know what those are, right?”

“I’m not stupid, Q!” Mike shouted, taking aim with his gun. He made exploding sounds as he fired at the blond.

“Just checking, just checking...considering you’re a hard-core city boy. Now,” Quatre hurried back over to him, and crouched, positioning the gun against Michael’s shoulder, and spreading his hand along the ‘barrel’ and ‘trigger’. “If your father came home and saw this...he’d most likely kick our asses, kid.”

“Yours more so than mine, Q,” Michael murmured, squinting one eye shut, and peering through the ‘scope’. “Paul says that playing with guns is a bad thing...I shouldn’t be doing it.”

“That’s why you’re going to keep this between us, and you’re going to learn the proper procedures and rules for gun handling,” Quatre said, forcing one of the boy’s legs back, bracing him. “That way, when you know how to handle a gun and respect it, you’re not going to be stupid about it. Got it?”

“Right. Okay, okay...I’m ready.”

“‘K...keep the barrel steady...steady...and fire!”

Michael make the accompanying sound of a gunshot, but the ‘rabbit’ still sat atop of the fort. Quatre picked up his shoe and flung it at the ‘rabbit’, which missed it entirely.

“Whoops. Pretend it ran away, and there’s another one in its place.”

“You’re so funny. You’re dumb!” Michael laughed, adjusting the pot over his head. “Why do I gotta wear this again?”

“Safety first, kid. Who knows? I don’t want your dad coming home and finding you with a concussion from a mad rabbit. Now...back into the position I showed you...”

“My dad likes you, you know,” Michael said, moving back into position. Quatre very nearly disregarded the words before he realized the content, looking back at him with a puzzled expression. Then he helped Michael back into position.

“Of course he does. He wants to be like me, that’s all.”

“Not uh...he likes you. I always talk about you.”

“Oh yeah? Like what? Eye to the scope, kid. When and if you ever go spotlighting with me, you need to know how to aim.”

“Like...how...you...um, make him laugh. And, uh...how you take care of me.”

“You’re not holding it right. Up. Up! Mike, seriously. Your dad’s straight. He likes girls. He’s always going to like girls. Being with a guy is totally different. Aim right there.”

“Do you like my dad?”

“Duh, Mike. Now, pay attention! Sometimes, you only get a split-second to shoot!”

“Really, really like him?”

“Yes, I do. All right? I DO! Now, pay attention! He’s going to run away if you don’t pay attention!”

“It’s a sock, Q,” Michael said, rolling his eyes, but moving back into position. “And I’m gonna tell him that you like him.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever, kid. ARGH! You MISSED! Damn it, when I was your age, I was hitting things miles away!”

“You’re such a fucking liar, Q.”

“Don’t cuss!”

“Eat me!”

“That’s it...I told you last time what I was going to do if you cussed,” Quatre threatened, hauling the boy over his shoulder and marching toward the bathroom.

Michael dropped his pot and ‘gun’, shrieking and kicking as the blond shoved both of them into the tiny space, where he held the boy over the toilet bowl. Amid all the laughing, shrieking and cursing, both of them heard the doorbell ring cheerily. Pausing, Quatre looked over his shoulder, and then down at Michael, whose face was reddening from his upside down position.

“You...expecting someone?”

“No...let’s go see who it is!” Michael said cheerily, struggling to get loose.

“No...what if it’s some stranger? Wanting to gut the both of us and eat the rest of that meatloaf your father made?” Quatre asked, setting him down. The little boy ran off to answer the door.

But instead of opening it, he slammed against the door, yelling, “Who is it?”

Walking into the living room, Quatre heard the words, “It’s your mother,” and froze. His panic mode set in, and he looked for a place to hide. But he couldn’t because he was the responsible party here...and if it were Michael’s mother, this horrid Celia...how was he to explain Jake’s absence? Would it reflect badly on the single father? Gulping, he watched as Michael scowled, and looked back at him with a questioning shrug. As if asking if he should let her in.

Quatre was mighty tempted to say ‘no’, but then again, that probably wasn’t the best thing to do. He sighed, and walked over, undoing the lock while Michael swore underneath his breath, and ran to hide within the fort. Remembering the gun, Quatre hurriedly kicked the makeshift object underneath a nearby throw rug in the kitchen. He unlocked the door and opened it, revealing the college student that he remembered seeing that one year in Roseville.

She remembered him as well, her face screwing up into displeasure.

“Uh...where’s Jake?” she asked, forcing her way in and looking at the mess the two had created.

“He...stepped out. To...go...do something for someone,” Quatre explained nervously, running his hand through his hair. “Uh...I don’t remember what. He should be back within an hour, or so...”

“He left Michael with you? Who the hell are you?”

“Uh, Quatre. Winner. Um...I...it’s cool. I mean, I get along with him, and...he’s not some big trouble.”

You’re the one he talks about?” Celia repeated, looking back at him, really taking in his appearance. Her face was still scrambled with disgust, but she dropped the expression as she looked for her son. “Michael! I just heard you, kid. Where are you? Come give me a hug.”

“NO! Go away!”

“Michael!” Celia gave Quatre an embarrassed smile, and crossed her arms over her chest. “Well, I came here to talk to Jake...but he isn’t here, so...I don’t know. Maybe I can wait for him.”

“I–Uh, well, I don’t know when he’s going to be back, so...it might be a long wait.”

“It’s nearly ten. Why is Michael still awake? I usually have him in bed by eight.”

“Er, well...I’m letting him run off some of his energy. It helps.”

“GO AWAY!”

“Mike, don’t talk that way to me, please. It’s really rude.”

“I DON’T WANT YOU HERE! YOU’RE JUST GOING TO TAKE ME AWAY!”

“I’m not,” Celia said on a sigh, running her hand through her hair, and giving another embarrassed look. She frowned at the fort, gesturing at it with a long talon. “This his doing...? He never makes forts.”

“CUZ NANA AND PAUL DON’T LET ME! Q LETS ME!”

“There’s no need to shout, Mike, we’re right here,” Quatre muttered.

“Q LETS ME DO A LOT OF THINGS. YOU DON’T!”

“That’s not true! That’s not true,” Celia repeated, looking back at Quatre. “Look...I just wanted to talk to Jake. Where is he?”

“Ah...er...Weston.”

“Seeing that little minority whore? I swear, he was fucking messing around with her when her and that chink were living with him,” Celia swore, frowning. Quatre gave a disgusted expression at the obvious hate on her face as she used the toe of her boot to upend Michael’s pile of Matchbox cars. “Is that who he’s seeing? I know he’s seeing somebody–he just doesn’t saying anything. I just want to know who’s trying to take over my role as mother to our son.”

“He’s not seeing anyone,” Quatre said in defense. “He’s too busy with work to even consider that route.”

“Whatever,” Celia rolled her eyes, hands on her hips. “He always had time to see his bitches when he was with me. I don’t believe this angel act of his. He’s never going to change.”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about, but the Jake I know isn’t like that. He works hard every day, and even puts in time for his friends, and that’s even rare! There are times when I don’t even see him ‘til after twelve!”

“Figures you’d defend him,” she replied snottily, giving him a disgusted glare. “You’re all brain-washed by him. He isn’t no angel, kid. You’re a kid, right? You don’t even look old enough to hang around him. You’re that stupid high school snot that took over on my baby that one night...”

“You’re just stupid, Celia!” Michael shouted as he emerged from his fort, his face reddened. “You can’t talk that way to Q! He does a lot better than you do! And dad’s always better than you! At least he tries!”

“What are you talking about? I always try for you! I work just as fucking hard to provide for you!”

“I never even see you! You–!”

“Mike, stop,” Quatre ordered, intercepting the shouts. He walked away from Celia, holding a hand out to him. But Michael just slapped his hand away and ran off, disappearing into the back room. The entire apartment shuddered when he slammed the door shut. Quatre looked back at Celia. “You must pick a lot of fights with a six year old just to feel better about yourself, huh?”

“What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?” Celia demanded, her face taking on a furious expression. “Who the fuck are you to talk to me that way? Fucking kid...you don’t have the right to talk to me that way!”

“What are you, queen of the world, or something? Shit, with that personality of yours, it’s a wonder people even want to talk to you,” Quatre snorted.

“Fucking queer. That’s what you are, aren’t you? Getting all cozy with Jake? Just like the last guy?”

“What the fuck–?”

“I knew he fucked around with me with a queer! Probably someone like you! All feminine and prissy... you’re a queer, aren’t you? No one else jumps on my ass for him. His friends don’t even do that sort of shit. Only fucking queers do that sort of bullshit!”

“Even if I was queer, I find it hard to believe that people who call themselves Jake’s friends wouldn’t even stand up to a bitch like you! Man! Here, I thought people were just joking when they said you were a bitch. But now, I come to find that you are!”

“Fuck you, you fuckin’ queer! You aren’t taking over my role! You can’t be his mother! I will always be his mother, and Jake will always have me because I am the woman that gave birth to his son, so he’ll have to like me more!” she shouted at him, her voice reaching obscene volume.

“My GOD! You’re fucking psychotic!” Quatre roared back.

“You think I’m ‘psychotic’? You think I AM ‘PSYCHOTIC’? I can be psychotic, queer-bait, if you want fucking psychotic. I’ll bring on my psychotic-ness if you fucking want it! You want to test me? Fucking test me! I’ll have your ass thrown into jail for being a pedophile! I’ll tell the cops you were fucking around with my baby! I’ll have you fucking CASTRATED because you fucked with my son! Because you fucked with me, you’re fucking going to get it! I’ll have the police all over your fucking queer ass!”

“JESUS FUCKING CHRIST, YOU’RE PSYCHO!” Quatre shouted in disbelief, unable to tear his eyes away from the reddening woman’s face. He couldn’t believe someone like her actually existed! And Jake was with her for HOW LONG?

“I TOLD YOU, YOU WANT PSYCHO? I’LL FUCKING GIVE YOU PSYCHO!” Celia shrieked. “I’ll have Michael taken away from Jake because of you! And it’ll be all your fucking fault because you fucking challenged me, you fucking little whore! You’re Jake’s whore, aren’t you? Fucking queer! Fuck you! Fuck him! Fuck the both of you! I want my son! Who knows what you queer bitches will do to him? You’ll fucking warp his mind with thinking that it’s okay! Fuck you! I fucking hate QUEERS! MICHAEL! Get out here, baby! I don’t want you with this fucking faggot!”

“You fucking psychotic bitch!” Quatre screamed at her. “How in the world do you live with yourself? It must be very sad where you live, you evil, psychotic wench!”

“Ooh, you fucking slay me, you fag. Fucking faggot. How dare you touch my baby? How dare you influence him? MIKE! GET YOUR ASS OUT HERE!”

“No, you get your ass out of here. You’re trespassing.”

“You touch me, and you fucking die,” Celia growled as he reached for her.

“I’ll take my chances,” he growled back, grabbing her arm and heading for the door. She struggled against him, kicking at him with her pointy toed boots, and began screaming bloody murder. The sound was so ear piercing that he was forced to let go of her, holding his hands against his ears. Once free, she brought her hand down on his back, and began whapping him furiously, cursing violently the entire way.

Struggling to get the woman out of the apartment, Quatre took the hitting, opened the door, and shoved her out. She stumbled and fell onto the walkway, where several spectators had gathered at the screams. Two of them were the women from that other day at the court. Upon seeing Celia fall, they started laughing and pointing, taunting her with a mixture of languages. The men held up beers and cheered for Quatre, laughing as Celia rose.

Quatre slammed the door shut and locked it, ignoring the furious kicking on the wood afterward. He wiped his forehead, shaking his head in disbelief. Well...rumors were true, it appeared. Celia was the biggest bitch ever known. How in the hell did Jake stand her for all those years?

He had a newfound respect for the guy (as well as pity and admiration) as he slide the deadbolt and chain into place and looked up. Michael was staring at him silently from the end of the hall, his eyes wide. Quatre froze, wondering if what he had done was even right.

But Michael broke into a wide smile, and ran at him with a cheery laugh. He caught the boy with a surprised grunt, and felt somewhat odd as the boy hugged him tightly, giggling madly. Quatre pulled his head back to look at Michael with a grin, shaking his head.

“I seriously hope you turn out more like your father than your mother, kid. Or else I’d just have to kick your ass.”

“Fuck that shit, Q. There’s no WAY I’m turning out like her,” Michael said solemnly, shaking his head.

“There’s that cussing again. Now...where were we? Ah, yes. You were going to say ‘hi’ to Ralph...”

“Who’s ‘Ralph’?”

“Ha! Ha! I’ll show you...”

#20#20#20#20#20#20#20

Later on, Quatre felt himself jolt at the sound of the apartment door opening and closing. He’d taken off the chain before collapsing onto the couch, so Jake wouldn’t have to make too much noise when he came in. He relaxed when he heard the chain being slid back into place, and the lock being maneuvered as well. Yawning slightly, glancing at his watch in the dark, he realized he couldn’t see it, and threw his arm back over his eyes.

“Your son’s in your bed,” he mentioned in a low voice, hearing the sounds of keys being placed on the counter. “Did you have a good time?”

“Somewhat,” Jake replied in a similar manner, walking over. Quatre removed his arm to look up at him, squinting in the darkness. Jake stared down at him in a measuring way, then lightly kicked his foot.

“Was he good?”

“Yeah...I wore him out. But, I think in the end...he was the one wearing me out,” he sighed, closing his eyes. “I’m never having kids.”

“I’d be scared if you did.”

“No way, Jose...you’d be jealous. What’d you do out there in the world...?”

“Not much. Just...visited with some friends. Went to this sports bar. It was...a little relaxing. Helped me clear my head.”

“Oh yeah? Did you drink?”

“...I had a couple. Not enough to impair my thoughts, but...just enough to...feel a little buzzed.” Jake moved Quatre’s legs off the couch, giving himself room to sit down. With an annoyed groan, Quatre lifted his legs and propped them comfortably onto the back of the couch, his heels pressed against the wall. He shifted then so that his head was nearly hanging off the couch.

“Did you meet up with any hot babes?”

“Female? Yes. I did.”

“...And...?”

“And...what?&# 8221;

“Did you connect?”

“...Not really. Things felt...forced. And...I don’t know, I felt really old. I really had no idea what they were talking about. They were speaking a foreign language that was clearly English, but I didn’t have the translation book with me...”

Quatre repeated this sentence quietly, then frowned. “You don’t make any sense.”

“I know what I meant.”

“But I don’t...”

“...Shut up.”

Quatre chuckled to himself, then draped his arm back over his eyes, exhaling quietly. He listened to the outside noises of the complex, his senses more tuned into the person at the end of the couch rather than anything else. He could smell Jake’s cologne and the scent of cigarettes and alcohol, and it was all so pleasant in a fascinating way. It brought him comfortable memories of Trowa, and yet...they didn’t quite make him THINK of Trowa. In a way, it was comforting. Or else, he was still just half-asleep.

Then he chuckled. “Dude...I so pity you.”

“Huh...? Why?”

“Guess who came over, earlier?”

“I...don’t know.”

“Now, I promised myself I would give your ex a chance. Maybe she wasn’t so bad–”

“Celia came over? When? What happened?”

“–But that bitch...she’s just as you said. And everyone else. Lucifer’s whore. The biggest bitch on the planet.”

Jake laughed softly, kicking off his shoes. “Yeah, she is pretty bad. Why–why was she here? I mean...what did she say?”

“Wanted to talk to you about something or another. I dunno. But...she got all...uppity. I ended up, uh, throwing her out of the apartment.”

“Don’t worry about it. She’s all talk, Winner. Though...what did she say to you?”

“Just...screamed around. Talking shit. Had Mike running.”

“Did she try to take him?”

“Yeah, but...he wouldn’t let her. And...I wouldn’t let her. I mean, it’s your day, isn’t it? I dunno, she just yelled at me.”

“Why?”

“Why, what?”

“Why’d she yell at you? Did you tell her something?”

“No. I mean, she just went on assuming things...I must be slipping if people are now able to tell I’m gay right out. I didn’t confirm it or anything, I just...I don’t know. She was just psycho.” Quatre sat up in his seat, shaking his head. He yawned loudly, stretching out his arms. “I can’t believe you put up with her...”

Jake chuckled, crossing his arms and staring out into the darkness. He could only imagine what had happened during that time. He doubted Quatre could keep his mouth shut when confronted by somebody like Celia...in a way, he was kicking himself for not coming back soon enough to witness it. As it was, it was nearly three a.m. He looked over at Quatre in the darkness, smiling slightly at the thought of him doing battle with his ex.

“That’s crazy shit,” he murmured, chuckling again.

Quatre nodded in agreement, using the darkness to look over at him. In the light that barely filtered through the vertical blinds of the window nearby, he could see the planes and angles of his friend’s face. He felt a strong, desperate ache in his chest, one that felt almost painful as he wished he could have this man in the way that he wanted. He wished so badly that Jake could see him in the way that he wanted. It felt so unfair that Quatre found himself yearning for someone that wouldn’t return his feelings. It was almost like that one year with Trowa, when the goth was occupied with other things.

He sighed, frowning as he wondered why he was destined for such failed things. What was so wrong with him that he couldn’t have whom he wanted in the way that he wanted? Trowa had said he could have anybody...that no one would refuse him...but it seemed as if luck just wasn’t on his side when it came to matters of the heart.

In the silence that followed, Jake shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He was sober–his mind was clear. Sure, he had a couple of beers, but they hadn’t affected him. He didn’t want to come home smelling like alcohol, knowing that Michael could smell it. He was going to take a shower before hitting the sack, but something had him sitting stock-still on the couch, mesmerized by the other male sitting next to him. He feel he couldn’t move unless he said something to him. Something...something pertaining to his own feelings. To...explore. Or confess. His body literally wouldn’t move unless he did so.

He shut his eyes, tilting his head to one side, trying to gather his courage to open his mouth and speak. When he finally did, what came out was, “It must have been embarrassing that other day...when...when that shit went down between me and your ex.”

“Yeah. Fags. It was so fucking embarrassing. I felt like a fucking girl.”

“You...took your plant with you.”

“Yeah. So? He was the only man besides me in there.”

“I...want to apologize for that, man. I mean...if someone mentions my kid like that, I...lose control.”

“I figured as much. It’s all right. Both of you got what you deserved, I guess. I mean...he has to be all beat up too, right?”

“Yeah. I landed a few good ones. I...just...sorry about that.”

“It’s all right. I’m too tired to do anything about it, right now,” Quatre said on a sigh, shoulders slumping.

Jake heard himself swallowing hard, unsure of how to proceed now, but knowing that he had to. “Um...uh, I...I didn’t drink very much tonight. I mean...I’m pretty sober.”

“...Uh...okay...?”

̶ 0;I...I did a lot of thinking...Win–Quatre. A lot. Um...I...know this is going to sound weird, but... I haven’t been very truthful with you.”

“...Great. Now what?”

“I...messed around with...with a man once. His named was Darren. He...he’s not around anymore, I mean...he was killed in a drive-by. It was...a few years back, but...”

Quatre felt his heart nearly slam to a stop, and he listened to the quietly spoken words coming from the male beside him. Unsure if this were truly happening, he looked over at Jake, feeling as if something had wrapped around his throat, preventing him from breathing. Was Jake saying something...something...good? Holding himself still, as if moving would somehow break something or change this suddenly new thing between them, Quatre couldn’t take his eyes away from him.

“I...I think I’ve...somehow...started to...think of you as...more than a friend. Um. Y-you know?”

“What...? What are you...you’re...you...”

“You’re making this even harder.”

“I think you’ve drank more than you said,” Quatre heard himself eke out, not wanting this to be some cruel joke. “I don’t think you’re...”

“I’m sober, W-Quatre. I am sober. And...I did have...some experience with a male...and maybe I did have feelings for him, but...I...shit, this is so hard.”

“Why? Why is it so hard?”

“It just is! I don’t know what to say to...say what I need to say!”

“You...you have to be drunk. In the morning, you’ll regret this, you’ll regret it all, and–!”

“No, no I won’t. I won’t. I told myself that I would, that I would do this, but–it’s just hard to confess what I feel, and...Quatre, I...I...I’m not good with words. I can’t...get out what I want to say. Can...can...I?”

Quatre stared at him in silence, feeling suddenly paralyzed as Jake shifted position on his end of the couch, facing him. He registered the older male reaching for him, his rough fingers touching his jaw, then him inching forward. When their lips met, it was a soft, indecisive press, but filled with what Jake had been trying to say. Quatre felt himself melt into the kiss, his eyes shutting and his lips returning the gesture. It felt so very warm, so very good...almost like his first kiss with Trowa. But that had been so long ago, and this was so different.

His entire insides felt as if they had frozen and rendered him entirely heavy as he smelt the scent of Jake’s skin and his cologne. He could feel the other male’s stubble, and could taste his last beer. It was so awfully good that his mind cried for mercy for impending trouble that he knew was bound to occur. Because something this good was always followed by something so terribly wrong.

He answered Jake’s kiss with one of his own, feeling that the other male had grown confident enough to use his tongue. He allowed that with a slight sound from deep within his throat, steadying himself against the couch to deepen the kiss with an answering swipe of his tongue. He didn’t know how long the kiss went on–only, when Jake drew away from him, his mind was reduced to fuzz, and he felt incredibly warm inside.

Silence followed after that, and Quatre felt his entire frame shaking with both nervousness and excitement. He wasn’t sure what to say or do, or how to even react. He could still feel Jake’s lips on his, could still taste him, smell him–it was all so very good. He didn’t even know what to think.

Apparently, Jake didn’t know either. He was experiencing the very same reaction. His own limbs were trembling rather violently, and his own skin had prickled with goosebumps. He stared out into the darkness, feeling his face slowly flame with his own embarrassment from his confession and physical reaction to the kiss. He hadn’t experienced this sort of reaction in a very long time. It felt as if everything had fallen asleep, and then was awakened, violently, from this one kiss. It felt as if a switch had been turned on, and he was suddenly aware of everything. Had it really been so long?

Quatre wasn’t moving, his own eyes locked into the darkness. When he swallowed a lump of nervousness and disbelief, he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. His knee bumped against Jake’s, and he looked over at him with an embarrassed air, the other returning the expression with one of his own. Quatre then found himself unable to look away, his heart running thunderously in his chest–it felt like it was going to beat right out of his rib cage. He felt so hopeful and so despondent at the same time–a strange combination. He wanted this to be true, something tangible–but at the same time, he kept expecting the axe to fall and declare him a fool. He looked away, feeling his cheeks burn with his own contradictions.

Jake looked away as well, frowning, unsure of how to proceed from here.

Have I really been so out of the game? He wondered. He didn’t even know how to further the confession, or how to back it up. When he was with Darren, it was all just words and physical expression. It wasn’t love–nor was it friendly. But it had been a mixture of knowledge that had made it easier to express what he felt for the other. He didn’t know what Quatre expected, or wanted, or needed. He didn’t know if touching him or going in for another kiss was going to be offensive, or insulting. He didn’t want to offend the other. But he didn’t want to give the wrong idea, either.

“I...I’m sorry. I...just...I’m sorry. I just assumed that...”

“No, no...no, it’s good. It’s way good,” Quatre said quickly, hearing the let-down in the other male’s voice. He whipped his head around to look at him, shaking his head. “No, no, nothing’s wrong. I–I’m just surprised. I never...never thought that you would...I thought you were straight, and...”

“Are you offended? I mean, I don’t mean to play games, but...the other guy?”

“NO. No, I...don’t even–don’t even go there. I just...never knew you would...you would ever feel this way. I thought you were just so far away, I...I can’t believe you would do this.”

“I was just...playing with my own feelings. I...I mean, I care for you as a friend, but...I think...I can come to ...care for you in another way, as well.”

Hope bloomed within Quatre as he stared at him, not wanting to blink, lest he wake up from this dream. The things coming from his mouth! Were they true? Was it all...true?

“Please don’t be playing,” he begged quietly, shaking his head. “Please don’t play with me like that. Jake, I’ve liked you for so long. I’ve had a crush on you for so long. I really respect you, and I play with you and all that, but...”

“You did? I mean...you...looked at me like that?” Jake asked in surprise, looking at him.

“You’ve got to be really dense or really blind, you prick,” Quatre muttered. “I was practically flirting with you like a fuckin’ girl...”

Jake laughed quietly, feeling his face flame with embarrassment. While he could recall when he thought Quatre was, he had felt uncomfortable. But...he wasn’t sure why the blond would.

“Sometimes, I knew. But...I just...thought you were being that way to piss me off.”

“Mostly. But...also to have your attention.”

“I...you...I don’t know what to do from here. I...I told you what I felt.”

“I can have you ‘tell’ me again.”

“...What? Really?”

Quatre took the initiative, leaning over to press his lips against Jake’s. Upon feeling the older male respond, he leaned in closer, wanting to enjoy as much as he could before something came up to stop it all. To ruin it.

He couldn’t ever remember feeling so good about something like this.

But he kept waiting for the impending axe of doom to come down on his head.