Jameson // Metallica

LEAVING NORMAL

“You don’t have to go, y’know,” Dylan says from the doorway.

I sigh, pulling my shirt over my head and counting to ten before turning to him. “I do.”

“Because James wants you there.”

“Dylan, do I need to tell you again not to be jealous--”

“If you still think that I’m jealous of James, you don’t know me at all, Jason.”

God, he sounds so fucking sad, so fucking tired, and I did that to him. Am doing this to him. “Dyl, I’m sorry,” I say finally, padding across the room to him, tracing the line of his jaw. “But I have to--”

“I know,” he says, meeting my eyes and holding my gaze. “Go and do what you need to and I’ll be here, okay?”

I do the only thing I can. I lean into him, press my mouth to his until I feel the wet flicker of his tongue against the seam of my lips. I let him push me against the wall and bite my throat, sucking and licking until I’m moaning and can feel the pleasant heat of a forming bruise.

“I love you,” I murmur, tilting my hips into his.

“Love you.” There’s warm breath against my ear as his hands roam under the hem of my shirt, over my waist. “And you need to go now.”

“I’ll be home early, Dyl.”

“I won’t wait up.” His smile is brilliant and sad.

~*~

Yeah, this fucking hurts. Back of the bar with a drink in my hand, watching Bob stand in my place on stage. I actually handle it pretty well, though, until they play the new one and then I’m ducking out the back door into the alley, digging in my pocket for the small cigarette case. I fish the joint out and light it up, lean against the dirty wall and wait for the green buzz to pleasantly numb me.

The thick clunk of the push bar on the door, the soft scrape of it sliding open are expected intrusions, and I know it’s James without looking, even before he speaks. “Shit’s hell on your lungs, Jase.”

“Talk to me when they’re pulling your liver out in pieces, James.”

“Ouch.” He’s leaning beside me now and I don’t really have a clear memory of him walking down to me. He’s just suddenly there, like he’s been so many times in the last fifteen years.

Good and bad, that.

“I came,” I say finally, unnecessary words to fill silence that I just can’t take anymore.

“Thank you. Didn’t think you would,” he says to the sky and I take my last drag, hold it deep in my lungs as I crush the joint out, debating with myself.

“You’re welcome, James.”

I catch my breath as he’s suddenly in my space, in front of me, that bare inch away. That bare inch he used to pause in to search my face before he kissed me, that bare inch that always made my skin prickle and my breath shorten.

That bare inch that was always the hardest for him, that I always had to pull him across.

I don’t reach and the time stretches until my senses are full of him, his face and his scent and his charisma drowning over me. His hand is suddenly hovering in the air, fingers finally coming to gentle rest against the side of my throat, playing over the bruise there.

“Boyfriend?” and his voice is that low growl, hoarse and rough.

“Yeah.” My voice isn’t shaking yet and I’m proud of it, proud until he cups my jaws and runs his thumbs along my cheekbones. It’s so familiar, something so tender that rips me where it always has.

This fucking hole in my gut is going to swallow me.

“Are you happy?” he asks, right up against my lips, so close that they brush mine and that doesn’t count, right? Even if I want it to, right?

“Love him.” James’s eyes flare and I know that I stumbled over the last word.

But I didn’t mean it.

Habit.

“Jason, can I… let me…” while his thumbs are stroking again, rubbing along the bones of my eye sockets like he used to do in the dark, like memorizing the feel of my face was the only thing in the fucking world that meant anything to him. “Please…” The kiss stretches impossibly long, into a thin silver moment that I’m already marking as the end of the first real thing I ever had, even while his mouth is still working against mine. “You’re going now, right?” he says against my throat when he finally breaks away. He pulls back just enough for me to see how dark his eyes are in the gloom of the alley, how heavy-lidded and warm with arousal.

“Yeah,” as I kiss his jaw, flick my tongue over that spot under his ear that makes him shudder and clutch at me.

“You’re still here.”

“I’m still here.”

~*~

The house is completely silent when I slip in at two, dark except for the light on the stairs that Dylan left on for me. I take my shoes off at the foot of the stairs, feeling stupid and creeping up them anyway.

Our bedroom door is slightly ajar and I push it open, then just stand there and watch him for a minute.

He’s sprawled across the middle of the bed, his arms flung above his head and the plain white sheet twisted around his hips. I watch until he stirs fitfully, mumbling thickly as a frown crosses his forehead, then strip to my boxers and toss my clothes in a heap in the corner, then pad across the soft carpet to sit on the bed beside him. “Hey,” I whisper, running my hand over the concavity of his belly. “Dylan?”

Drowsy eyes blink up at me, a sleepy-sweet smile spreading across his face. “Hey. ‘M I hogging the bed?”

“Dead center.”

“Mmmm. Lemme move,” he mumbles, his eyes slipping shut again, breathing evening out.

“Dylan? Wake up, babe, I need to talk to you.”

His eyes blink open again, but they’re sharper this time, a little more focused. “How was it?”

“Weird. Awkward.”

“James?”

I open my mouth, but the words catch on the lump in my throat and he sighs, his fingers twining with mine. “Dylan, I… James and I--”

“Do I need to leave?”

“What? Leave here?”

“Yeah. Do I need to move in with Brian?” His eyes are studiously away from me, focused on the ceiling, but the fingers of the hand not holding mine are twisting in the sheet, worrying at it nervously.

"What the hell are you talking about?" I ask. "Why the hell would I want you to leave? I want you here, I've always wanted you here. Before you decide if you want to stay, though, I need to tell you--"

He shoves the sheet back, shifts to his side of the bed. “Nah. That’s all I need, Jase.”

“But--”

“Get in bed, Jason. I missed you, and all you need to tell me is that you want me here.”

“More than anything.”