Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Inside Out ❯ Friends With Benefits ( Chapter 9 )

He hadn't told them anything.

 

 

Well… actually, he couldn't tell. Even if he had wanted to.

His mother had rushed him into the hospital the moment his brother had been carted away by the police, and they had him in the emergency room for nearly an hour before he actually got in to see the doctors. The cuts lacing his upper abdomen were deeper then he'd thought they had been, and he was disoriented and tired from the blood loss by the time they'd dragged him into the checkup room for bandaging.

 

He was surprised his mother hadn't caught on—maybe a little relieved even?

It amazed him how stupid parents could be in situations like these. But then again, he didn't want her knowing, either. Groaning, he forced himself to part his eyelids before blinking wearily up at the Hospital ceiling. The doctors had kept him over night for observation, and since his arrival, the police had been there to interrogate him.

 

“I won't have the police coming in and badgering my son after he's been attacked!” he'd overheard his mother hiss to the doctor several hours before. “It is in no way ethical, nor is it appropriate! He didn't do anything wrong.”

-

 

“Elias? Honey, are you awake?”

 

This was the second time in less then a week that he'd wound Hospitalized.

The only difference between now and then was that this had been brought on by himself.

Gingerly and groggily, Elias lifted a hand to rest it over his wounded abdomen, before turning his heavy-lidded gaze to his mother.

 

“The doctors had you on some painkillers,” she began softly, offering one of her tired smiles. “They said that it would probably make you drowsy. You've been sleeping for almost the entire day.”

 

Why did this fact perturb him?

I'm not going to tell them the truth.

 

“Where's Lucas?”

 

A frown immediately fell onto the woman's features, and she twisted the cloth she had been holding her hands, tightly. Clenching her jaw, she sniffed before clearing her throat. Clearly, she was thinking of something to say.

 

“He's been arrested.”

 

Oh. Oh.

 

Arrested?

He hadn't known that his brother had been arrested.

 

“He's in jail?”

“He spent the night there, yes.” With a shaky sigh and a soft pat on the leg (Elias was sure she meant it to be comforting) she continued. “And he isn't going to get out any time soon, either. I'll see to it.”

 

He was in jail because of him?

He had to admit that if this were a form of revenge, it would have felt good for a little while. But this was a little too far, wasn't it?

He had dragged the police into it (well, his mother had, but it was his fault his brother was still there) and left it at that.

 

“The police have been pining for a meeting with you since last night after they questioned him. I out and out refuse to let them talk to you; I mean there is nothing to be said. And I personally—”

 

“I want to talk to them.”

 

“You what?”

 

His mother blinked several times before giving a soft sniff. She looked expectantly at Elias, almost as if she was waiting for him to repeat himself.

 

“Are they here now? I want to talk to them.”

“Elias, you're only bringing unwanted and unnecessary stress down onto yourself. There isn't a need for it.”

 

Closing his eyes, Elias exhaled before taking a deep, calming breath. He could feel a knot inside of his chest, a knot that usually occurred whenever he was within four feet of his mother.

 

“Just can I see them? Please?”

 

-*-

 

He had spent the night in Jail.

Although he wasn't sure if it counted, because Lucas literally had not slept at all.

By the time the sunlight had began to filter in through the small, barred window that was stationed higher up (out of anyone's reach) in the small holding cell, he had known he wouldn't be getting even maybe five minutes of rest.

 

The door to the cell had opened maybe twenty minutes after the room had started to grow warm, and a police officer (Officer Morgan) had stepped in and said, “You're free to go.”

Of course there was the necessary release forms he had to sign, and as Lucas was finishing up the last of them, Sheek walked into the Police station.

 

A frown marred his refined features, and he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his middle finger. Keys jangled softly as he slipped them into the pocket of his jeans, and his hands fell from his sides to be crossed over his narrow front.

 

“Why're you here?” Lucas grumbled as he slammed down the last of the forms he needed to fill out. “I didn't call you.”

 

“No, but your brother did.”

 

Lifting his gaze, Lucas arched a brow and Sheek smiled. As his eyes surveyed the room, his smile developed into a small, smug smirk and Lucas recognized it immediately.

 

“If you even think of saying it, I'll—”

 

“Relax.”

 

Letting his hand slip from his chest, the older let it fall onto Lucas's shoulder in a comforting manner.

 

“You know very well I was right, so there is no need to gloat about it.”

“Damned right,” Lucas muttered, raking a hand through his tousled hair.

 

As they exited the police station together, Sheek with a hand on his hip and the other hooked onto the loop of his jeans, and Lucas with his arms crossed, hand clutching a brown paper bag with his belongings in them and a frown along his worn features, the young man pondered over what the other had said.

 

“You said Elias called you.”

“He did.”

“So he told them, then.”

“He did.”

“Is he coming home soon?”

“I'm not sure, he didn't tell me. All he said was `Go get my brother and make sure he's okay.'”

 

Looking to Lucas, Sheek arched an eyebrow before slipping his keys from his pocket. Proceeding to open the door to his car, he began;

 

“You know, you're damned lucky he's not a blabber mouth. These kinds of things are what get you into trouble, Lucas.”

 

 

“I thought I told you not to start?” Lucas quipped, as he slipped into the passengers seat. “I'm not in the mood; I'm tired, hungry and I just want to get the fuck out of here.”

 

“Why don't you come and stay with me for a while? I think it is in your best interests if you were away from that… woman.”

 

Lucas's head turned so fast that he almost got whiplash. Eyes narrowed, he leaned back in his seat as Sheek looked over his shoulder. Shifting the car into reverse, he proceeded to back up without a word.

 

He didn't like how Sheek seemed to know things like this, especially when there wasn't really any logical explanation as to how he acquired the knowledge. Oh well, maybe it was those damned sources again?

 

-

 

After picking up some clothes as quickly as possible, Lucas dumped his backpack into the back seat of Sheek's car and once more slid into the front.

 

The ride was short, and they had tried to kill as much time by driving around as long as they could. They had stopped for lunch at some burger place, which Lucas didn't care much for, before proceeding to Sheek's apartment.

 

By the time they arrived, it was roughly 5 O'clock, and Lucas was beyond exhausted. He found it difficult to keep his eyes open, and as he deposited his things on the floor beside the couch in the living room, Sheek pushed him back rather roughly, and he fell onto his side on the soft material.

 

“You should get some sleep,” he commented, leaning over the back of the couch.

Lucas blinked slowly before letting their gazes lock. They stayed like that for a moment, looking at one another, before Sheek broke eye contact and stepped back.

 

If Lucas had been more awake, he probably would have been unsettled by what had just happened, but as Sheek let a soft, warm blanket fall onto him, he was more content with yawning, giving a languid stretch and passing out.

 

-*-

 

 

 

He actually looked rather peaceful when sleeping.

His face took on the child-like innocence the young often possessed, and his expression was for once, blank. Not stoic, for there were still hints of a frown along his delicate lips when he was, but relaxed.

 

 

He wasn't exactly sure if this was a good idea.

 

The boy had been sleeping for well over five hours, and Sheek had, in that time, managed to get a rather large project he'd needed done for the week after finished, and several writing assignments completed.

 

He was sitting in the kitchen reading one of those silly `Psychology and You' books when there was movement in the living room. Setting down his novel, Sheek wasn't surprised in the least when a very groggy looking Lucas shuffled into the kitchen.

 

His hair was tousled from sleep, and his shirt was rumpled. Several buttons had come undone at the top of his shirt, and exposed the narrow line of his collarbone.

A peculiar feeling came over Sheek, and he laced his fingers together on the table.

 

“Did you have a nice nap, Sleeping Beauty?”

 

Shooting him a weak glare (for he still could not open his eyes completely; the light in the kitchen was much too bright) he slumped into the chair adjacent Sheek at the table and yawned.

 

“Do you have any beer?”

“You're underage.”

“You're not much older.”

 

He was awake now, and his eyes were their usual way; narrowed. Assessing.

After a moment, Sheek sighed. Why the hell not? The boy had gotten himself into a mess, and he would bet money that he was at a level of stress that could border on painful. It gave him an excuse, and if there was supervision… where was the problem?

 

“In the fridge.”

 

Standing, Lucas moved passed him and began to rummage around through the contents.

Finding what he wanted, he closed the door and deposited two cans of beer onto the table.

Popping the tab on his, he sat back down in the chair and took a long drink.

 

Cocking his head, Sheek let his gaze fall to the can set before him, before lifting his eyes back to Lucas.

 

“Careful,” he began dryly. “It's only four percent, but if you keep drinking it like that…”

“I'm fine. It's not like I haven't had anything to drink before. Besides, it's just one beer. You aren't gonna' drink yours?”

“I bloody well will drink it, mind yourself.”

 

Sheek popped his own tab and lifted the can to his lips. Taking a rather long drink himself, he set the beverage down and leaned back in his chair.

 

“So what do you plan to do about Elias? This has to be fixed, Lucas.”

“I know. Damn, Sheek, can't you leave something alone for a little while?”

“Not when it's this serious. And it concerns a certain someone, this someone being yourself, who is young, stupid, impulsive and—”

“I get it. I'm a moron.”

“Well put it this way; do you actually feel anything for your brother?”

 

Opening his mouth to speak, Lucas was cut off as Sheek continued.

 

“Aside from lust.”

 

A dubious expression slid onto the youngers' face, before he looked down at his beer.

“I don't know. Maybe?”

“You should leave him alone before it gets worse.”

“I can't.”

“Why not?”

 

Lucas didn't answer him, and instead, finished off his beer. Looking to the fridge, he gave Sheek a glance before getting up to retrieve another. Sheek didn't comment, but he admitted to himself that he was worried. And curious.

 

Standing, he finished off his own beer before crushing it with ease in his hand.

He didn't want to start interrogating Lucas, especially after what he'd just been put through. And he especially didn't want him thinking he was trying to give him a counseling session. That was the last thing he needed.

 

So maybe another beer wouldn't hurt.

 

-

 

Another beer turned into about six each, and although it was four percent, Sheek could tell it was beginning to take its toll on Lucas. He himself was actually able to hold his liquor quite well, and despite the fact that he had managed to down six beers in the last hour, he only suffered from a slight lightheadedness that was usually associated with him drinking.

 

Lucas had taken on a depressed stupor, and had done nothing but sit on the couch quietly and sip from each beer, which he finished one after the other, almost faster then Sheek had managed to drink them himself.

 

“I think you've had enough,” Sheek stated finally after he was halfway done his seventh can. “I'm running out of beer.”

 

“I'll get you some more.”

“You're underage.”

“I'll give you the money.”

Standing up from his place on the futon diagonal from the couch, Sheek advanced towards Lucas and extended a hand. His fingers wrapped around the can, and he gently began to tug it away. Lifting his head, eyes clouded with alcohol, Lucas's face twisted into an unreadable expression.

 

“I need that,” he whispered, almost as if begging. He jerked the can back, and Sheek would have lost his grip if not for this own firm hold on it. The substance crumpled under their pulling hands and beer spilled forward from the breaks in the foil.

 

Letting out a hiss, Lucas withdrew his hand (which had been cut by the material) back immediately. Standing up, he swayed several moments before pitching forward. Right into Sheek, who dropped the can as the other fell into him. Instead of withdrawing, Lucas wrapped his arms around his waist and buried his head in his shoulder. And then he started to cry.

 

“Fuck,” he muttered into Sheek's shoulder. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

 

Hesitantly, Sheek lifted his arms to encircle the boy.

“It's okay, Lucas. It's okay.”

 

“No!” he practically yelled, pushing himself away from the other. His palms were splayed out on his chest, and he was staring up at Sheek angrily through his tears.

 

“It isn't okay! Look what I did to him!”

 

“Lucas just breathe. It's okay. You should sit down.”

“I can't breathe! I need to go talk to him.”

“You're drunk.”

Fingers curling into the material of Sheek's shirt, Lucas shook his head.

“He did that because of me! He's in the Hospital because of me.”

“You're overreacting. You're drunk, and you need to sit down.”

 

He struggled for a moment when Sheek tried to push him back onto the couch, and they fell in a heap of entangled arms and legs onto the floor. Rubbing his temple, Sheek pulled himself up onto his elbow. Lucas lay under him, the heels of his palms buried in is eye sockets as he tried to quell the tears that were leaking from the corners of his eyelids.

 

Sheek didn't know if it was the alcohol in his system, or the helpless state that he was seeing Lucas in (for he'd never ever done something like this before) but he found he simply could not deal with it. Prying his arms away from his face, Sheek pinned Lucas's hands down on either side of his head and fixed him with an ambiguous look.

 

“You need to stop crying,” he stated firmly, his grip on Lucas's wrists almost painful.

As if complying, the other gave a soft sniff, and regarded him wearily.

Sheek had known it was going to be a bad idea to let him drink—even though his intentions had been good. One beer and one beer only.

 

“What am I going to do?”

“Forget about it.”

 

Lucas's expression was utterly lost, and Sheek could feel the resistance leave his body.

A worried frown marred his features, and when he spoke, his voice was barely an audible whisper.

 

“How?”

 

It was impulse, really. At least, that's what Sheek told himself when his grip faltered on Lucas's wrists, and his hands moved up to cup his face between them. Their noses were touching, and he ran his thumb along the line of the young mans cheek.

 

“Like this.”

 

And then he pressed his lips against him.

 

 

 

-

 

 

The kiss Sheek had started had deepened into something desperate.

Lucas's reaction had been almost automatic, and Sheek briefly wondered if he was just doing this out of desperation. But even if it was, as his hand skimmed over the front of Lucas's shirt, he didn't mind. If this was the type of distraction his friend needed, he'd be happy to give it to him.

 

His tongue delved into Lucas's mouth as the other slid his hands up the front of his shirt, and Sheek began working at the buttons on Lucas's own. His fingers plucked at each one impatiently, especially when Lucas's cool fingertips brushed against the warm skin of his lower abdomen.

 

“Aren't you—straight?” Lucas panted as Sheek managed to get his damned shirt undone.

He ignored the question and pulled each side of the material away from the boys' body.

His torso was long, and as dark as it was in the living room, the thin shafts of moonlight drifting in from the window above them accentuated the wiry frame he possessed.

 

His skin was as soft as it looked, and the low whine that escaped his lips as Sheek brushed his mouth over his collarbone was encouraging.

 

Lucas's fingers had found their way up Sheek's shirt, and struggling a moment in his drunken stupor, he managed to push Sheek back onto his haunches and helped him remove it.

 

A wave of dizziness came over him, and he leaned forward. Sheek's hands closed around his upper arms, and once he was steadied, the man blithely pushed the remains of his unbuttoned shirt off of the boys' shoulders.

 

They resumed kissing as their hands roamed over one another's upper halves, and Lucas let a growl. He bit Sheek's lower lip before pushing him back onto the floor without warning, and straddled his hips. Sheek arched an eyebrow as he sat back, and merely speculated that the alcohol was an excuse for his behavior.

 

“I can't do this,” he groaned, falling away from him. He shook his head and ran a hand through his tousled hair. They were both breathing lightly, and he looked to Sheek with a sullen almost pouty expression.

 

If Sheek had had any sense in him, if Sheek had been sober, he probably would have agreed that it was best. But then again, he never would have acted on his own feelings if he had been sober. Since meeting Lucas, he had managed to hide them, make it simply seem like he was nothing more then a nosy, over-concerned friend.

 

But of course, all sense was thrown out the window. And he had had a …few drinks.

So what did it matter? He was drunk enough to be relaxed, and that was all there was to it. Relaxing and forgetting.

 

Sitting up, he leaned forward and grabbed Lucas's chin between his fingers. Tilting his face upwards, he felt himself smile a slow, lazy smile before he shook his head.

 

“Just forget about it.”

 

“This is crazy,” Lucas quipped as Sheek pushed him onto his back. “You're straight.”

“You'd be surprised,” was the others' wry reply as he ran has hands down the sides of Lucas's body. He let out a soft laugh when Sheek began to rein kisses along his stomach, before wrapping his arms around his neck as he made his way up to his chest.

 

The older man lifted his face before resting his forehead against Lucas's, and they stayed like that for several moments.

 

“You should sleep.”

“Yeah.”

“Will you be okay?”

“I'm okay now.”

 

He was unsure if the boy meant their current position, or if he was emotionally stable.

To be frank, when he had started crying, Sheek hadn't known what to do. Running the backs of his fingers along the line of Lucas's cheek, he smiled ruefully before pushing himself up.

 

This had been a stupid idea.

As he made his way to his bedroom, he resisted the urge to throw up.

The booze was catching up to him because the floor had started to spin, and his eyelids were growing heavy. As he fell onto the bed, he was barely aware of it as it dipped under new weight. Something warm pressed up against him, and without opening his eyes, he draped an arm over it.

 

He needed sleep.

 

 

 

 

 

 

A/N: Okay so, I wrote this chapter as kind of a Birthday present for one of my closest friends, because I think she liked the idea of sheekxlucas better then lucasxelias. To be honest, I hadn't really thought of the pairing until she'd brought it up, but when she did, I was like “Hey that's a good idea!” <.<' I have sort of figured out how this and several chapters to follow will fall in with the plot, so please REVIEW and I'll update soon! ^__^

 

P.S Thanks for all of the nice reviews so far. I get really happy when I read them. :B