just friends ; jalex

17

the thing about jack is it's very hard to have a serious conversation with him.

oh, it's happened before. like the time they talked about lisa... although that required both of them to be drunk to some degree. and the time they tried to behind the school— tried being the key word here.

basically, alex needs to talk to jack. he needs to sit the boy down, grab his shoulders, and go: "what the fuck are you doing."

not in a rude way, mind you— just— jack, are you flirting? are you just kidding? what the hell's going on? why'd you call alex babe?

right, right, that last question. alex keeps going back to it. that whole phonecall... that whole day... felt like a dream, dizzy and nebulous, and not just because he was deliriously sick. (at one point he's fairly certain he hallucinated himself on to a stage in the middle of australia, judging by all the accents he heard around him. he was holding a guitar, and jack wasn't wearing pants. but that's not the point here.) just the way jack had spoken and even looked at him had been soft, careful, making sure not to overstep anything.

maybe it was the only time jack had ever been careful in his life... and of course alex had to be sick for it.

he's actually quite close to just walking over to jack's house and going, "dude, what the hell?" cause he's driving himself crazy trying to figure out why.

option b would be going over to jack's house and making out with him, but alex isn't quite sure if that would fly.

it's their whole history that makes it complicated... the length of their friendship, the secrets they've confessed to each other, the things they know. jack could probably recite alex's entire life off the top of his head, and alex can easily do the same. there's not a thing the two don't know about each other.

well, except for the thing where alex has a vicious crush on jack, but let's skim over that.

really, he shouldn't be so apprehensive about confronting jack about it: saying, "okay, i have a crush on you," especially since they've kissed before— but they've only ever kissed when alex has been drunk, and it's never been more than... you know, a peck, really. there's no violent make-out sessions in alex's past (with jack, that is) and he's quite worried that there won't be any in the future.

there's also the matter of what jack wanted to tell him that was so important that he needs alex to remember it. the one he wouldn't say to a sick and delirious alex. maybe that's a good thing, cause alex's memory of that day is actually clearer than he had expected. it's just most of tuesday that's erased... which is a damn shame.

the fever had caused him to miss three (okay, two and a half) days of school, and now it's thursday night and he's begging his mom to let him skip tomorrow too. "the fever..." he says, "you have to be healthy for 24 hours before you can go back..." and all in all, it's a convincing argument.

damn your stubbornness, isobel gaskarth. and damn you for passing it on to your son.

in the end, alex gets what he wants, and cheerfully retires to his room with a bottle of soda and too many slices of pizza. (tom had friends over, and the sound of yelling was filling the house.) he's making his way through his food, debating calling/visiting jack, when the dilemma is solved for him.

"alex?" his mom yells from downstairs, "front door!" 

with a groan, alex gets to his feet and makes his way downstairs, not very pleased about having to walk so far to get the door. why him?

he opens it without peeking in the window, and thus is very surprised to see a slightly disheveled, very sheepish-looking jack barakat standing on his front porch.

"why," he asks immediately, "didn't you just walk in?"

in response, jack holds up his hands, which are weighed down by two plastic bags from wawa. 

"i had to headbutt the doorbell," he explains, and alex nearly doubles over in laughter.

when he finally chokes down his laughter, he steps aside and lets jack enter, grabbing one of the bags from him. it's fucking heavy, actually. "what's in here?" he asks incredulously, and answers his own question by peeking inside.

"feel-better package," jack tells him, heading up the stairs, and alex trails after him, making approving faces as he examines the contents of the bag.

he dumps it all out on the floor of his room, and jack sprawls out on his bed, watching him to make sure he's pleased with it all.

and okay, who wouldn't be? within the two bags, there's at least four cans of rockstar, some bags of sweetarts, doritos, and... "holy shit, brownies?"

"not weed ones, unfortunately," jack responds. "but yeah. they're your favorite."

alex is blushing, so he doesn't look up. "jack, you're the best."

"i've been told," is jack's answer, cocky as ever. but he's grinning, and his face has gone all soft and a little blushy-pink in the cheeks. "i... alex, listen—"

cradling the cold can of rockstar, alex goes to pop the tab, disregarding the fact that it's an energy drink and the time happens to be 8 pm. "hm?" he prompts through a mouthful of rockstar.

this is the main reason he's friends with jack. who else would show up at his house and bring this? 

"wait, do you want me to pay you back for this?" he asks before jack can speak.

the boy nearly splutters. "why would i want that? this is a present out of the goodness of my own heart." he looks almost incredulous, almost insulted, which manifests itself as a fucking hilarious facial expression, by the way. alex starts laughing right about then and doesn't stop. "hey, shut up for about three seconds, i have something serious to say for once."

"jack barakat, being serious?" alex scoffs, laughing. "who are you and what have you done with my jack?"

jack's smile turns fond. "your jack?" is he blushing again? "i like the sound of that."

the blood starts rushing in alex's ears, and he remembers their last phone call. "hey, i have something to ask you—"

"i have something to tell you—" jack says in response.

he stops with another mouthful of rockstar, swallows it, and meets jack's eyes. "about last night?"

"yeah."

is this it, the moment he's been waiting for? he's almost surprised at the butterflies that spontaneously explode in his stomach, doing flips and kicks against the interior of his chest. what's jack about to say? 

"i don't know how to say this—"

"you called me babe," alex interrupts, remembering suddenly. "babe!"

jack half-buries his head in his hands. "i know. is that... is that okay?"

wait— so he meant it? it wasn't like an accidental slip of the tongue, a word mix-up? jack meant to call him babe? "that's fucking gay is what it is," he responds, and he's blushing so fucking much that if jack would fucking look up for three seconds he would know. "but yeah, yeah of course it's okay."

biting his lip, jack looks up again. "one more thing."

the bed groans when he slides off it and comes up to alex, until their faces are mere centimeters apart from each other, till jack's breath tickles the skin on alex's cheeks.

"can i...?" jack breathes, eyes softened and almost concerned. his tongue darts out to wet his lower lip, and alex's eyes follow it involuntarily.

he doesn't have to ask twice.