Chapter Eighteen
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Even though David spends half the night tossing and turning, he still wakes up before his alarm. He knows five hours of sleep is entirely inadequate, even if he’ll just be sitting on the sidelines, so he tries to go back to sleep, but he just ends up thinking about Jake. He doesn’t know if the nausea he’s feeling is nerves or excitement, but either way, more sleep likely isn’t an option.
Still, he tries. When his alarm goes off he finally resigns himself to a sleep-deprived day and orders himself room service, finds it waiting for him outside his room after he’s showered and dressed. He eats it mechanically, the eggs tasteless in his mouth, unsurprised when the nausea worsens.
David keeps catching himself glancing at his phone, but it still has no new texts. There weren’t any when he woke up, or when he got out of the shower, or after he finished shaving. None the first time he checked during his meal, or the second, or the fifth. David suspects it’s more the wait than the food that’s twisting his stomach, and it’s going to be a long day, so he forces himself to keep putting food in his mouth, ignoring his stomach’s objections.
It’s not that he thinks Jake’s ignoring him; he’s almost certainly still asleep. It’s early, he likes to sleep in, and there’s no reason for him not to, when they have nowhere to be until the afternoon. David once again resists the urge to send a text, just to check. It’d seem — eager, or something. Pushy. He keeps silently reminding himself of that, but once he’s finished his omelette, nothing to distract him from his phone except the muted morning news, he can no longer help himself. One text, and Jake can reply if he’d like. Or not.
David texts When did you want to talk? which is hopefully innocuous enough, then forces himself to put his phone on the bedside table, fulfilling the terms of the deal he made with himself. David fights the urge to glance over at it as he flips through channels, trying to find something more distracting than CNN.
David practically launches himself across the bed when his phone buzzes a minute later, finding a text from Jake saying can i come by?
David hesitates, fingers frozen over a reply.
prob not a public convo appears on the screen. but if ur not comforble w that its ok ill figure out a place
Sure. David texts back. Jake has a point, and it’s not like there are a lot of — or any — other places private enough, particularly since Jake is sharing a room. David’s not exactly sure what this conversation will entail, but whatever it is, it won’t be anything but private. Come over when it’s convenient.
He starts straightening up his room so he doesn’t call Kiro panicking during his rare uninterrupted time with Emily, but he’s only managed to put his room service tray outside and make the bed before there’s a knock on the door.
“Um,” David says when he opens it.
“Now was convenient,” Jake says. “If that’s okay.”
“Of course,” David says, stepping aside. “Come in.”
“You know we don’t have to leave the hotel until this afternoon, right?” Jake asks, as the door shuts behind him with a click.
“Yes?” David says. “Why?”
“You look,” Jake says, gesturing toward David, “snazzy.”
“Thanks,” David says. “You, um.”
In contrast to David’s slacks and dress shirt, Jake’s wearing sweats and a t-shirt, so the word ‘snazzy’ can’t really be applied. He looks comfortable. Soft.
“You look good,” David settles on, because he does. He always does.
“Thanks,” Jake says. “I’m just going to — mind if I sit?”
“That’s fine,” David says, forcing down a thread of disappointment when Jake takes the sole chair rather than the bed. He sits down on the edge of the bed closest to Jake — it’s that or hover awkwardly over him.
“Okay, I spent like forever practicing this,” Jake says. “Do you mind — can you let me get it all out first before you say anything?”
“Okay,” David says, wary. Generally if you need to practice saying something, it isn’t an easy thing to say. Generally it also isn’t an easy thing to hear.
“So, like, last night,” Jake says, and David can’t suppress a wince. “I wasn’t expecting that. I really just walked you back so I could let you know I missed you and I’d really like us to be friends.”
“Oh,” David chokes out.
“No seriously, let me get it all out?” Jake says.
David nods jerkily, looking down at his hands, balled into fists. He forces himself to unclench them, flattening his damp palms against his thighs.
“When you kissed me,” Jake says, and David closes his eyes. “That was like — I can’t even tell you how long I’ve been waiting for that? Or, I mean, not waiting, that makes it sound like I’m a total creep. Jesus, Jake, you practiced this how many times? Hoping. How long I’ve been hoping for that.”
Oh, he wants to say again, and differently this time, but Jake told him to wait until he got it out, and suddenly David wants to hear the rest.
“I fucked up really bad,” Jake says. “Telling the guys about you when you weren’t ready. I was stupid and selfish and I made you feel shitty and betrayed and that’s the last thing I ever want to do.”
“And I’m not asking you if you’ve forgiven me,” Jake says. “I’m not even asking you to forgive me. I knew you didn’t want them to know, and I still told them. And I’m really happy that you’re telling people now, that you feel okay letting people you trust know you’re gay, but I know that has like zero connection to what I did and doesn’t make it less awful and that I may have fucked up having a serious chance with you for good, and I get that. And I’m really sorry I did that to you.”
David finally manages to look at him, and Jake blows out a long breath, laughing nervously.
“I’ve been waiting to say that for a long time,” Jake says. “Um, minus the kiss part, I had a lot less practice for that part. Obviously.”
David’s mouth tips up, but that’s about all he can manage, because everything’s —
“I’m not sure what that kiss meant to you,” Jake says. “If you wanted — if it’s just sex or me being familiar or whatever for you, that’s totally fine, you know? I get it. But if that’s the way it is, I don’t think I can — I really can’t do anything casual with you, it’d literally kill me.”
David’s not — he doesn’t know what that means, whether that’s —
“Well, not literally,” Jake says. “I would probably not literally die.”
David huffs out a choked noise, more shaky breath than anything resembling a laugh, and Jake gets up, hesitating before putting a hand lightly on David’s back, sitting down beside him when David leans back into the touch.
“I didn’t tell my teammate I was—” David hesitates, but if he can’t say it to Jake, who knows the truth of him more intimately than anyone, there’s no one he can say it to. “I didn’t tell him I was gay.”
Jake frowns. “I thought — what’d you say, then?”
David looks down at his hands, twisting his fingers together. His heart feels like it’s in his throat. He knows that it isn’t, that it’s anatomically impossible, but there’s no other way to explain the nauseated, frantic pounding, the way he feels like he’s choking on it.
“Take your time,” Jake says, and that’s what spurs David to speak.
“I told him I was in love with you,” David mumbles to his hands.
“What?” Jake asks. “Sorry, I—”
“I told him I’m in love with you,” David says, and he’s still looking down, avoiding meeting Jake’s eye, so he’s entirely caught off guard when Jake kisses him.
Jake has always been — careful, might be the best word. He usually kissed David soft and slow, at least at first.
This isn’t anything like that.
Jake doesn’t start slow, or gentle; it’s too much from the start, the crush of his mouth against David’s overwhelming, one hand tightening around David’s bicep hard enough to vaguely hurt. It’s all David can do to hold on, raising an unsteady hand to curl around the back of Jake’s neck, anchoring himself, anchoring Jake to him.
It’s hard to say it escalates when it feels like it already started on full throttle, but when you’re trying to remove clothing blind, and you can’t catch your breath but you still don’t come up for air, because nothing’s worth stopping – if that isn’t considered escalating, David thinks it should be.
Jake does pull back eventually, but it’s for the length of two seconds and involves him kicking his sweats off and pulling his shirt over his head, so David can’t complain, at least not before Jake’s kissing him again.
“Why are there so many buttons,” Jake complains against his mouth.
David laughs giddily. “Sorry.”
“If you stop to fold these I swear to god,” Jake says, working on David’s shirt.
David probably should, but then, he brought extras. He always brings extras. And right now it’s not exactly at the top of his priority list.
They work together, David undoing his cuffs while Jake fights his belt. His slacks end up crumpled at the end of the bed, his shirt slipping over the edge, David unresisting when Jake moves to straddle him, pinning him to the bed with his weight.
“So you don’t get any ideas,” Jake says.
“Folding ideas?” David asks.
“Exactly,” Jake says.
David’s significantly more interested in getting Jake’s underwear off at the moment, so he applies himself to that instead, kicking his own underwear off when Jake levers himself up long enough to give him the space.
David hasn’t gotten off with someone else in — fuck, it was three years ago, Jake’s mouth hot around him, David staring dazedly at the ceiling with the taste of Jake still heavy on his tongue.
Between that and the fact that it’s Jake, David’s practically on a hair trigger. He’s painfully hard when Jake wraps a hand around him, already leaking over Jake’s fingers. There wasn’t even any foreplay, just some making out and stripping, and it’s mortifying how quickly he finds himself on the edge. Jake doesn’t seem amused, though, eyes dark, cock hard against his belly, mouth red and wet, and that’s — David did that, that’s because of David.
David gets a hand on Jake’s ass, tries to pull him in. “Will you—” he tries when Jake’s eyes flick up to meet his, and Jake thankfully gets it, his weight settling against David again. His cock rubs up against David’s, dry, but after Jake spits in his hand, wraps it around both of them, it’s better, a slow grind, Jake on him, heavy, Jake’s lips slack against his when he meets his mouth.
It takes David maybe a couple minutes to come, and that’s if he’s being generous.
“Sorry, sorry,” he says, his eyes screwed shut in mortification.
“Oh my god, please don’t be,” Jake says. “Can I jerk off on you?”
David opens one eye. “Yes?” he says.
“Awesome,” Jake says. He jerks off using David’s come as lube, which is — David obviously can’t get hard yet but he can tuck that image away for the future: Jake with his lip caught between his teeth, cock flushed and hard and slick, Jake’s grip tight and gaze flicking everywhere, as intimate as touch, before finally meeting David’s eyes, neither of them breaking eye contact until Jake’s eyes slip shut and he comes hot against David’s chest, his stomach, adding to the mess David made of himself.
He stays there for a moment, chest heaving. David reaches up, touches his hip, his thigh, and Jake climbs off him, flopping onto his back beside David on the bed.
“We were going to talk,” Jake groans.
“We did talk,” David says.
“I talked. You told me you loved me and then I basically jumped you,” Jake says. “There wasn’t a lot of talking after that. I mean, other than about buttons and jerking off.”
David goes red, or. Redder. He’s already flushed, but excitement, exertion are quickly chased away by embarrassment.
Jake rolls onto his side, chin digging briefly into David’s shoulder before he turns his head to drop a kiss against David’s skin. “I am too, you know,” Jake says, and when David frowns at him, “In love with you.”
“Oh,” David says.
“I know that’s like the most obvious statement in the world, but,” Jake says.
“It isn’t obvious,” David says.
Jake laughs.
“What?” David asks.
“Some people would probably disagree,” Jake says. “Hell, Georgie picked up on it in like, a couple hours. I’d say that’s pretty obvious. Also pretty sure Volkov’s been laughing at me for months.”
“Kiro laughs at everyone,” David says. “He likes to laugh.”
“I noticed,” Jake says, voice a little flat.
“You don’t like him,” David says.
“I don’t not like him,” Jake says.
“You call him Volkov,” David says.
“Well,” Jake says. “That’s his last name.”
“You never use last names,” David points out.
“Okay,” Jake says. “I’ll admit I was maybe, like — okay, I was kind of jealous when I thought — it just kind of looked like —”
“Like?” David prompts.
“I don’t know,” Jake says. “Like, this is stupid, but you were just — you look really comfortable with him, or whatever, and every time it’s like ‘okay, so there’s no way David’s not in love with him’. I told you it’s stupid, I’m sorry.”
“I mean,” David says. “I do love him. Not like—”
It’s too much to say again.
“Not like that?” Jake asks.
“Not like with you,” David says. “But he’s — he’s my best friend.”
“I’m glad,” Jake says quietly. “That he’s your best friend, not the — I’m cool with him, I swear.”
“Good,” David says. “He’s — important. To me.”
“You’re going to make us shake hands or something, aren’t you,” Jake says, not even a question.
“I can’t make you do anything,” David says.
“You’d be surprised,” Jake murmurs.
David doesn’t know how to respond to that, at least verbally. The wash of warmth through him probably isn’t the right reaction, but it also isn’t one he can help.
“I’m gross,” David says instead, which isn’t exactly relevant, but undoubtedly is accurate. Gross, and getting grosser by the moment.
“Nu uh,” Jake says.
“I’m covered in semen,” David says.
“It’s hot,” Jake says, and when David frowns, “Okay, fine, I’ll get you a washcloth.”
“I didn’t ask,” David calls when Jake disappears into his bathroom.
“You implied,” Jake calls back, and returns with it after a minute, crawling back into bed while David swipes drying come off his chest, stomach, a splash over his hip.
“There’s some on your neck,” Jake says.
“ How ?” David asks.
“Probably my bad,” Jake says. “Not sorry.”
David runs it over his neck. “Good?” he asks.
“Hot,” Jake says.
“You said I was hot when I was messy,” David says.
“You’re always hot,” Jake says, then when David frowns at that entirely unhelpful statement, “You’re all good.”
“Thank you,” David says. He should get up, throw the cloth in the sink, but he’s reluctant to move, so instead he just puts it carefully on top of his dress shirt, since he won’t be wearing it regardless.
“Come here,” Jake says. David’s only half a foot away from him, but he inches closer until Jake’s shoulder brushes his.
“Okay, I definitely planned on talking with more clothes on,” Jake says. “But this was…good, right?”
“Yeah,” David says. “This was good.”
“I think this was obvious but I want to make sure,” Jake says, which David appreciates, because whatever Jake’s about to say probably isn’t obvious at all, at least not to him. “I want to be with you. Like we were. Or, not like we were, exactly, more — I’d like to be your boyfriend. Again. If that’s okay with you.”
David swallows.
“If that’s too fast or you want to think about it or—” Jake says.
“No,” David says. “That’s. It’s okay with me.”
“Yeah?” Jake asks.
David nods.
“Okay,” Jake says. “Um. Awesome. That’s —”
“Awesome?” David asks.
“So awesome,” Jake says. “You might not know this but I am like, jumping up and down right now.”
“You’re lying down,” David says.
“In my head,” Jake says. “I’m jumping up and down in my head. And dancing. Terribly.”
David laughs.
“And you have like the greatest laugh I have ever heard and oh my god, I’m shutting up,” Jake says.
David’s laugh gets tangled up with a yawn.
“Want to take a nap with me?” Jake asks. “Talking’s exhausting.”
David would argue that more physically intense activities than talking occurred this morning, but honestly, talking is exhausting, and he could use a nap. Still —
“Isn’t there fan stuff?” David asks.
“Not until this afternoon,” Jake says. “And I didn’t really sleep well, so.”
“Me either,” David admits.
“Nap?” Jake asks.
“Okay,” David says, and leans over the bed to grab his underwear.
“No,” Jake whines, looping an arm around his waist. “Come back.”
“I’m just getting my underwear,” David says.
“Definitely come back, then,” Jake says, putting some of his strength behind the tug, and David lets himself be reeled back in, until Jake’s a long, warm line of skin pressed against him. It’d probably be soothing if David could ignore Jake’s soft cock pressing against his thigh.
“Are you talking about a nap, or a ‘nap’?” David asks.
“Nap,” Jake says through a yawn of his own. “I’m totally up for blowing you in the shower after we wake up, though.”
“Jake,” David complains.
“Just planning ahead,” Jake says.
“You’re distracting me,” David says.
“Sorry,” Jake says, then presses a kiss to David’s hair. “Real nap.”
“Thank you,” David says. He reaches down to brush his hand over the back of Jake’s, and Jake twists his hand to catch David’s, tangling their fingers together.
“I missed you like, a crazy amount,” Jake murmurs when David’s starting to drift, lulled by the heat he gives off.
“You too,” David says, soft.
“And I’m going to go back to Florida and still miss you like, a crazy amount,” Jake says. “Which sucks. But that’s okay.”
“Is it?” David asks.
“Well,” Jake says. “Maybe not okay. But. It’s worth it.”
It’s increasingly impossible to suppress the likely stupid looking smile on his face, but it’s not like Jake can see it. And if he did, Jake still probably wouldn’t call it stupid, even if it was. “Jake—” David says after a minute.
“Napping now,” Jake murmurs sleepily.
“It’s worth it for me too,” David says. And honestly, he thought it would be harder to say, but. It’s easy.