Caught running, p.22
Caught Running, page 22
“No,” Brandon murmured, shaking his head to reinforce his response. After a few moments, he had to say something. “A mess, huh?”
“I’m a mess,” Jake responded with a nod.
Brandon smiled a little and chuckled, keeping his head tucked against Jake’s neck. “No, you specifically said we’re in quite a mess.”
“Well, now, we are,” Jake argued sensibly. “Doesn’t mean the inner Jake isn’t doing a Snoopy dance, but it’s still a mess.”
Pulling back to look at Jake incredulously, Brandon just barely held back a guffaw. “A ‘Snoopy’ dance?”
“You can’t tell me you don’t know what I’m talking about,” Jake insisted haughtily, raising his chin to hide the smile that played at his lips.
“Ah, okay,” Brandon said. He was more interested in the rest of what Jake said anyway. “I’m glad I could make you dance inside,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of Jake’s mouth. Jake responded in kind, pulling Brandon closer and turning his head into the kiss.
Brandon sighed, but didn’t want to let the question slip away. It would bother him all night. “Jake. Mess. Talk,” he murmured against swollen lips.
Jake groaned plaintively and sighed as he rested his head back on the pillow. “If we’re ever found out,” he murmured in answer, “it could ruin us. And now we’ve got the added bonus of getting our hearts broken if something goes wrong.”
Brandon drew in a slow breath. He really hadn’t expected Jake to put it so plainly. But there it was, clear as day. “So now what?” he murmured, huddling in closer with his forehead against Jake’s shoulder, afraid to look at the other man’s face. “Do we just stop?” His voice broke at the end, reflecting how very much he did not want that. Jesus. They’d been ‘together’ for three days. Only three days.
“Pfft. I’m cynical, not masochistic,” Jake answered with a small laugh, squeezing Brandon tight.
The breath audibly stuttered out of Brandon as he tightened his arms around Jake. “I’m glad,” he murmured against warm skin.
Jake ducked his head to nuzzle against Brandon’s temple and sighed. “I need to go get my pills,” he whispered regretfully. He didn’t want to get up, but he knew if he left it much longer he wouldn’t sleep at all.
Brandon sighed too and started to move. “Stay here. I’ll get them,” he murmured, rolling out of the bed and padding out toward the kitchen.
“Don’t forget the alcohol!” Jake called out as he lay in bed shivering at the sudden loss of warmth.
“Don’t get your hopes up!” Brandon yelled back from the stairs. Wincing a little at the cold tile in the kitchen, he opened the cabinet he’d seen Jake get into, frowned at all the little bottles, and started reading labels.
Thinking about the cabinet, Jake huffed and rolled out of bed, wincing as he stood. Adrenaline was a wonderful thing. After the fact was when it hurt to move. He padded through the hallway, down the stairs, and into the kitchen to slide up behind Brandon. Reaching into the cabinet for the large prescription bottle on the bottom shelf, he kissed the back of Brandon’s shoulder, then turned to the refrigerator.
“Jake, most of these are expired; why do you keep them? These types of drugs don’t keep their efficacy, you might as well be taking sugar pills,” Brandon said with a frown, poking around through the bottles. “And some could be dangerous if mixed.”
“The labels don’t mean shit,” Jake answered as he reached in for a beer and straightened back up to lean against the island.
Brandon threw an annoyed look over his shoulder. “Please tell me you don’t mix and match these. Really,” he asked.
Jake shrugged noncommittally and popped the two pills into his mouth before twisting open the beer cap.
Brandon looked nervous and on the edge of scared. He glanced back to the cabinet, then back to Jake. “If I quit giving you the eye about the muscle relaxers and the beer, will you let me throw the rest of this shit out?” he asked seriously.
“Maybe.”
“Jake,” Brandon protested, voice pained. “I really, really would like to know you’re going to wake up every morning.”
Jake sighed and his shoulders slumped. “It’s not that big a deal.”
Brandon literally flinched, and he turned his chin sharply away, unable to verbalize anything after what felt like it might as well have been a punch in the gut. He twisted his body away from Jake’s, gripping the edge of the bar to keep from reaching for him.
Jake watched Brandon’s reaction and his stomach turned as he stood there. He sighed softly and looked away, shaking his head as he tapped his finger on his beer bottle. “Brandon,” he finally said.
Forcing himself to take a breath and blink burning eyes, Brandon turned his chin just enough to acknowledge him. Jake took a step forward and slid up behind him, wrapping his arms around him and setting the bottle on the counter. He rested his chin on Brandon’s shoulder and looked up into the still open cabinet. “What do you want me to do?” he asked quietly.
He suspected Jake meant the pills, and Brandon did make his eyes focus on the several rows of bottles, but what he had inside had to come out. “I want you to wake up each morning,” he said in a fragile voice. “With me.”
Jake turned his head just enough to press his nose against the side of Brandon’s neck. There were a lot of different meanings he could take from that, he knew. Was Brandon still talking about the pills and the possible danger of taking them, or was he talking about something more personal? Either way, it was a tricky subject, wasn’t it?
“Then stay here with me,” Jake responded finally, not giving himself a chance to think it through.
Brandon relaxed back against Jake, sliding his hands over strong forearms to settle over Jake’s fingers. How they’d gotten onto such shaky ground, he didn’t know. Brandon cursed himself for getting too serious too fast, although Jake seemed to be right there with him. “I want to,” he whispered. Then his voice strengthened. “And I want to flush most of this shit down the toilet,” he added.
“That would make me mighty cranky,” Jake muttered with a sigh. “You do realize most of those aren’t even prescription pills, right? I’ve put over the counter stuff in the smaller bottles because the shelves are so small. And the prescription stuff I do take is the only thing keeping me moving at all,” he argued, trying not to get defensive.
Brandon’s eyes softened, and he turned his chin to rub his forehead against Jake’s chin. “I want you to take care of yourself,” he said helplessly, still frowning at the bottles. “I hate that you hurt.”
“So do I,” Jake laughed wryly, reaching out to pluck a bottle at random off the shelf. He opened and dumped several of the pills out onto the counter. “Tylenol Arthritis,” he said as he turned one of the huge white pills so that the name could be read. He reached for another and repeated the action, revealing a mound of little bitty pink Benadryl pills. Another container held blue and white Tylenol PM tablets. And another Jake pulled out revealed several Tylox. He pointed at them and said, “I’m allergic to those, but they’re stronger. If I’m hurting real bad I take one of those and two Benadryl with it.”
Surprised, Brandon watched in silence as Jake went through several of the bottles with him. It was more than he could have hoped for, considering. Matching up the number of surgeries with the pain and looking over the medicines spread across the bar, Brandon’s gut cramped uncomfortably. “I think I understand the beer a little more now,” he murmured. He didn’t like it. But he understood it. He was also more upset, because this revealed just how much pain Jake must be living with daily. Just living with. His hand curled into a fist.
Jake smiled a little, his chin still on Brandon’s shoulder. “And,” he held his breath for a moment, sighing heavily and pushing at the bottle of Vicodin. “If you really want me to give those up, we’re talking a few weeks of withdrawal. I’d rather wait ’til summer if it’s all the same to you.”
The anger drained away as Brandon comprehended what Jake was offering. His fist relaxed, and he reached up behind him to curl his arm about Jake’s neck. It was a hell of a peace offering. “How about we talk about it when school’s out?” he posed, knowing he was making several large assumptions based on Jake’s words.
“And until then you stop worrying?” Jake countered.
Brandon licked his bottom lip, looking across the counter and the host of pills. “I’ll try,” he promised in a hoarse voice.
Jake sighed again and nodded as he lifted his head off Brandon’s shoulder and kissed the warm skin gently. “I’ve been doing this for over ten years,” he murmured, “I’m okay. I’ll be okay.” His voice, although the tone was reassuring, sounded slightly bitter and tinged with sadness. It was obvious that Jake had long ago resigned himself to pain every day. He was willing to give up the prescription pills because the reality was that they didn’t help all that much.
Sighing and trying to push away his worry and uncertainty, Brandon looked over at the clock. “We didn’t have dinner and it’s still early. Want something to eat?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Jake answered, kissing Brandon’s neck one last time for good measure before he stepped back to let him move. He looked Brandon up and down appraisingly and smirked. “Want some clothes?”
Glancing down at himself, Brandon rolled his eyes. “What’s the matter?” he asked, his voice slowly going back to normal. “Don’t like the free show?”
“Mystery can be alluring,” Jake countered with a wag of his finger. “And cooking while naked is not recommended,” he added with a serious nod.
Brandon laughed at him. “You need to get yourself some clothes then, Thundercat. Because whatever I attempted to fix would not be edible. I wasn’t kidding when I said I couldn’t cook.”
Jake muttered and then took a long gulp of his beer. “Pasta?” he suggested after swallowing.
Nodding, Brandon leaned over to kiss him sweetly. “I’m getting in the shower. Want some clothes?” he asked, eyes brightening at his joke.
“Hmph,” Jake answered as he wrapped one arm around Brandon and squeezed his ass in a blatant move.
A little over an hour later, they were back on the couch, Brandon with papers and pen, wearing more of Jake’s clothes, Jake with the television remote and baseball. The science teacher glanced over his glasses in amusement each time Jake crowed or cussed, but held his tongue as he graded. It was comfortable. It was comforting.
When the game ended, Brandon glanced at the clock and groaned. 11:30. He started stacking papers and sliding them into his backpack in resignation. Jake had asked him to stay after Brandon had expressed his desire to wake up with him. But tonight it just wouldn’t work. He had no clothes for work and his tests for tomorrow were on his computer at home.
“Spring training games can bite my ass,” Jake grumbled as he clicked off the television. He looked over at Brandon and tried not to sigh. He knew Brandon had things to take care of at home.
Brandon chuckled and pulled off his glasses. “Opening day next week,” he reminded as he closed his pack and stood up. Jake muttered disconsolately and sulked on the couch. “Christ, don’t do that, Jake. I’ll be driving home and back at 4 a.m.,” Brandon said.
Jake glanced up at him in surprise and then huffed and stood up slowly. “You’d better get going if you’re going to get any sleep,” he said, stepping closer to slide his hands around Brandon’s waist.
“You know I don’t want to go, right?” Brandon murmured, leaning his temple against Jake’s lips.
“Mm hmm,” Jake responded with a little huff.
Brandon sighed. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Wash my uniform, will you?” he asked. “At least the pants and briefs.”
“Oh sure, leave me alone and make me do manual labor,” Jake teased with a little kiss to Brandon’s ear before he pulled back. “Yeah, I’ll wash ’em.”
“Thanks,” Brandon said, smiling. Reluctant to leave, he made himself step back, pick up his pack, and start for the door.
Jake watched him go with his shoulders hunched and his hands deep in the pockets of his sweats. It wouldn’t be fair to ask him to stay or come back. And since that was exactly what Jake wanted to do, he kept his mouth shut.
“Hey, Jake?” Brandon asked from where he stopped in the doorway, keys in hand.
“Yeah?” Jake answered, trying to keep his voice even.
Several things warred for the opportunity to be spoken, and for a moment Brandon was afraid it would all spew out. After a long pause, he settled on, “Miss you already.” And he was out the door before he lost the nerve to do what he had to do. Life had to go on, after all. Never mind that it hurt like hell to leave his lover.
Jake frowned as the door closed and sniffed loudly. He shuffled over to the front door and stood by the side window, watching as Brandon drove away.
Chapter 11
Standing beside the bus with a clipboard, Brandon tried to give out assignments to the players, two to a room, usually by grade level. He and Jonathan had spent the better part of the evening a few days ago thrashing out who could safely bunk with who. The guys stacked the gear and bags all around, blocking a big chunk of asphalt in the corner lot of the Holiday Inn Holidome in Tampa Bay, and the assistant coach sighed as he tried to get their attention again, finally losing his temper.
“Shut your traps and line up or you’re all sleeping on the damn bus!” he barked over all their chatter, drawing huge eyes and silence. Coach Bartlett never yelled.
Jake raised his head and peered down from the window of the charter bus at Brandon, just as surprised as the kids seemed to be. He watched the boys all calm down and gather their things, and the other coaches began handing out room keys and checking off names.
The players didn’t even peep as a disgruntled Coach Bartlett read off names and room assignments, and soon they scattered, heading into the hotel, glad to be free of constant supervision for awhile – not that Coach Campbell hadn’t put the fear of God into them about leaving the premises without permission.
Sighing, Brandon muttered a ‘yeah’ to one of the college guys’ question if he was okay. He wasn’t okay. He was fucking exhausted. He’d slept all the way down here and felt worse. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this cranky. Jonathan whistled in wonder and gave Brandon a wide berth as he climbed back into the bus.
“Hey Coach,” Jonathan said quietly, approaching Jake. “What’s with Bartlett? He’s a bear today.”
Jake shrugged and glanced back out the window. “No idea,” he murmured.
“Well, I hope he works it out before this evening. I don’t want to be in a room with him all night if he’s in a snit,” Jonathan said, picking up his duffle.
“I thought we each had our own rooms?” Jake asked as he straightened from repacking the bag he’d just been rifling through.
“Well, we did, until we got here and checked in. The hotel sold out too many rooms, so we had to double bunk. I put Troy in with you,” Jonathan said and then he squinted. “Maybe that’s why he’s so pissed. He might have been looking forward to some peace and quiet on his own.” He didn’t sound offended, just thoughtful.
Jake swallowed, mind whirring as he tried to think of a way to fix this without being too suspicious. Finally he smirked and stuffed the last shirt into the bag. “I’ll trade you Troy for Brandon,” he offered playfully as he zipped up the bag. “Bastard snores like a freight train.”
“How do you know... oh, yeah, from when he crashes at your place after away games. Well, hell, I won’t turn down that offer. Troy’s cuter anyway. Snoring doesn’t bother me,” Jonathan said with a laugh. “Here,” he said, holding out a key, “trade me.”
Jake reached out and took the key, smirking still. “You base your roommate choices on looks?” he teased.
“Nah, just my chances of getting laid,” Jonathan shot back with a wide wink as he walked backward down the aisle. “And I was thinking my chances with Brandon were below nil, so even Troy’s gotta be better.” He laughed at his own joke as he exited the bus.
Jake raised his eyebrow and smiled, glancing back out the window at Brandon with a frown. He should know, after a month of being the man’s lover, what was wrong with him tonight. But he was ashamed to admit that he had no clue. His chances of getting laid were probably pretty low as well.
Brandon knew he was being an asshole, but he was worn out, stressed, annoyed ... You name it, he felt it. He’d been looking forward to having his own room so Jake could be with him – or he with Jake – but then the room shakeup blew that all to hell.
The last week before spring break had disintegrated into utter hell: Two weeks of state testing, finishing up grading on annual tests, grades, A.P. exam prep, and baseball games on four out of seven nights. Brandon hadn’t slept more than three hours a night, even at Jake’s house. He was at the end of his rope, and he’d really been hoping this trip would make a difference.
He jerked his bag up onto his shoulder and slammed the storage compartment doors shut. Wasn’t looking good.
Jake stepped out of the bus stairwell and glanced around to make sure the others were gone before he sauntered over to Brandon’s side and gave him a shit-eating grin. “Cranky,” he observed mildly.
Brandon gave him a very clear look that said ‘don’t push me.’ “You have no idea,” he muttered, feeling much worse about the room assignments now that his lover stood right next to him. Surely they could find some time somewhere, somehow. Or else Brandon was going to go absolutely fucking insane.
Jake waved his traded key and smiled even under the withering glare Brandon had given him. “I forgot to ask Jonathan which room it was.”
“What room?” Brandon asked tiredly, patting his pockets, looking for the key card he’d stashed somewhere.
“Our room,” Jake answered, watching Brandon closely.
Brandon looked at him blankly for a long moment. “Our room?” he whispered, something like hope flashing in his eyes.
“Jonathan begged me to take you because he didn’t want to be eaten in his sleep,” Jake informed Brandon primly, barely hiding the smile.
