Chapter Nineteen Trying Something New
Chapter Nineteen
Trying Something New
The two of them are immediately detained once they’re off the plane in Seattle.
Granted, they voluntarily surrendered themselves to the TSA agents who were waiting for them, just like they were instructed
to. But that doesn’t make the experience any less painful. Even with Dani’s connections, the interviews in Juneau had been
extensive. They’d both been required to go in-depth about their jobs, educations, romantic and sexual histories. They were asked what
sorts of shows they liked to watch, books they read, who they follow online, even going so far as to force Owen to show off
his art to make sure there were no “obvious red flags.”
Thankfully, after a few additional phone calls—and hours spent in the most uncomfortable chairs ever—the TSA finally relented, and they were given permission to board their flight
to Seattle, exchanging one uncomfortable seat for another. And of course there was turbulence, because why wouldn’t there
be?
The interview in Seattle takes less time. Owen can only assume that someone somewhere actually did their job and made it clear that neither of them were a threat, but they’re still asked a lot of questions.
“That was worse than my thesis presentation,” Jacob says as they’re finally escorted out of security.
“It wasn’t that bad,” Owen assures him, feeling the exhaustion of the day.
“No, but just let me be dramatic!” Jacob protests. “We’ve been through a lot today.”
“Do you want to get some dinner?” Owen asks him. “We’ve got a lot of time to kill.”
“Yeah, I’m starving,” Jacob says, rubbing his stomach.
“We have money?” Owen asks, wrapping a hand around Jacob’s bicep without a second thought as they walk through the concourse.
“Thank Dani, she wouldn’t let us starve.”
“We need to send her a fruit basket when we’re back,” Owen murmurs, letting Jacob take the lead with the choice of restaurant.
“I remember she likes cantaloupe,” Jacob remarks. “And other melons.”
When their food is eaten and their bill is paid, they both walk around until they find an empty gate, picking a spot on the
floor tucked away in the corner where they’ll spend the rest of their time before their flight home.
“Do you want to get some rest?” Owen asks Jacob, leaning against the wall at the best angle he can find.
“I don’t mind staying up,” Jacob replies. But as he says the words, he loses his battle against the yawn Owen’s been watching
him try and hold back for the last fifteen minutes.
“Jacob . . .” Owen eyes him. “Just lay your head down.”
He does as he’s told, stretching his long legs out, settling his head in Owen’s lap.
“Wake me up in an hour, don’t let me oversleep,” he says, pointing at Owen, like he knows he isn’t going to wake him up.
He’s correct.
Owen opens up the Chetek Archives book he snagged, letting his free hand find Jacob’s hair, playing with the soft curls. It takes all of two seconds for Jacob
to start snoring once his eyes are closed, requiring every single bit of willpower Owen has to stay as still as he possibly can. He ignores the itch in his back, how thirsty he gets,
how badly he wants to clear his throat or reach for the bag of chips in their snack pile.
It’s all worth it, to sit there suffering while he watches Jacob sleep, hands tucked up next to his cheek, smacking his lips
before he goes back to snoring. To think that he almost didn’t come on this trip. In some alternate universe, Owen stayed
in San Francisco, stayed home alone and missed this chance.
Almost.
But he took a chance. On Jacob, on himself, on their futures. He took a shot in the dark and look at what it brought him.
Jacob wakes up several hours later, angry at Owen, but feeling relatively well rested. He gets up to stretch and comes back
with water for both of them. Then they switch places, Owen lying down on the crumb-dusted floor, resting his head in Jacob’s
lap. When he opens his eyes again, the sun is up, and Jacob’s informing Owen that they finally have a gate for their flight.
They still have to wait a few hours before they board, but their group is finally called, and the two men navigate to the very back of the plane. At least they were lucky enough to get seats next to each other.
“Here.” Jacob offers Owen a small white bottle. “I got these in case you wanted to knock yourself out.”
The flight might only last two hours, but the less Owen has to suffer through it awake, the better. Owen gladly swallows the
pills before the flight attendants are going through their demonstration for how to put their oxygen masks on over their heads.
He feels his heavy eyelids close, and they don’t open up again until the plane rattles as the wheels connect with the runway.
“Ah!” Owen yelps as he’s rocked forward, hand on Jacob’s thigh as the woman in the window seat eyes them both like she’s annoyed.
“It’s okay,” Jacob says, reaching to soothe Owen. “We’re just landing.”
“I’m good,” Owen tells him, still coming to. “Just surprised.”
It takes them a good while to deplane, even without a single piece of luggage.
There isn’t really a plan for how they’re going to meet up with Kaitlyn and Abigail. But as if fate has decided that Owen
and Jacob have both suffered enough and wants to throw them a bone, the women are somehow both waiting for them at baggage
claim, jumping up and down excitedly when they spot Owen and Jacob coming down the escalator. Owen can almost swear he’s dreaming,
still sleeping off the Tylenol PM back on the plane and he’ll wake up with two hours left stuck in a flying metal tube that
he doesn’t have any control over.
But no, they’re here.
Kaitlyn sprints toward them, Abigail not far behind her. Owen’s more than a bit surprised when Kaitlyn hugs him first, colliding with him hard enough that he almost falls to the floor.
“Oh, God . . .” Kaitlyn grips him tight, pressing her nose into the skin of Owen’s neck. “You stink, dude.”
“You’re telling me.” Owen furthers her suffering by holding her tighter. “Consider it my revenge.”
“Fuck, dude . . .” Kaitlyn says, pulling away. “I’m so fucking sorry, Owen. I’m so, so sorry. Holy shit, I don’t even know
what to say to you, I—”
“Kait.” He braces his hands against her shoulders. “I want an apology, and I want to talk to you, but right now I just want
to go home and shower.”
“Fair enough,” she tells him.
“Ahem.” Jacob clears his throat, arm still thrown around Abigail’s shoulder. “Are we forgetting the brother?”
The fresher air hits them as they step outside the airport; it still doesn’t feel quite real to no longer be stuck inside,
not that squeezing themselves into the backseat of Kaitlyn’s Prius is that much more comfortable, but at least Owen can roll
down the window.
“Oh, holy fuck, we’re home!” Jacob scoops Fitzwilliam into his arms the second they’re through the front door of Kaitlyn and
Abigail’s apartment, and then falls onto the couch on his back. He might actually be asleep by the time his head hits the
cushion.
“We grabbed everything we could find out of your rooms,” Abigail tells Owen.
“We remembered everyone’s shots too,” Kaitlyn continues, showing Owen the box of Humira stored in the refrigerator. “Got phones,
chargers, clothes, toiletries, shoes, towels.”
“I didn’t pack any towels,” Jacob says, proving that he’s awake.
“I didn’t either.” Owen leans against the counter.
“Okay, well . . .” Kaitlyn shrugs, not a care in the world. “I guess we’ve got new towels!”
Jacob is gracious enough to let Owen shower first.
He doesn’t even bother to do it standing up. Once the water is hot enough, Owen crouches to the floor of the tub, stretching
his legs out, letting the water run all over his aching joints.
It’s nice. So nice.
Owen stays for longer than he needs to, knowing that once he’s out from underneath the water, he’ll need to talk to Kaitlyn.
He just wants this moment to himself, this peace, this relief on his joints. It’s nice. Eventually, though, he climbs out
of the tub.
With a towel around his waist, Owen tiptoes back to his room, ignoring Kaitlyn and Abigail’s hushed voices behind their closed
door. He’s so distracted trying to avoid Kaitlyn that he doesn’t even notice that Jacob is in his bed.
“Ah!” Jacob yelps when Owen lets the towel drop.
Owen yelps right back, reaching to cover his crotch. Fitzwilliam chirps from his spot on Jacob’s stomach as his own eyes are
covered.
“Sorry!” Jacob apologizes swiftly. “I didn’t think you’d be naked.”
“Jesus, Jacob . . .” Owen sighs, squatting to pick up the towel. “Are you ever going to get over this?”
“Sorry,” he repeats, smiling guiltily at Owen from where he’s stretched across the pull-out. “I should’ve told you I was coming
in here. Kaitlyn and Abigail started to argue.”
“About the trip?”
Jacob nods. “I didn’t really want to listen to it.”
“I can’t blame you. Now . . .” Owen kicks weakly at him. “You’re stinking up my bed, go shower.”
“Don’t tell me what to do.” Jacob rolls over, letting Fitzwilliam launch off his chest and down to the end of the bed. Then
he reaches out, grabbing Owen’s wrist, and in one swift move, he’s pulling Owen down to the bed to land on top of him, their
faces nearly colliding as they both giggle like teenagers.
“Stop!” Owen fights back, just not that hard. “Let me go.”
“Nope!” Jacob wraps his arms tight around Owen, almost stealing the breath right out of his lungs. Owen kicks back, mostly
into the mattress. Their laughter turns softer by the second, until it’s just the two of them making half-out-of-breath sounds
as their eyes meet.
Before Owen realizes it, he’s leaning in, lips pressing against Jacob’s. Owen tilts his head, their noses bumping as he goes
for the same angle he always does. Without thinking, Owen parts his lips, giving Jacob’s tongue all the permission it needs.
It should be gross; Jacob hasn’t had a chance to brush his teeth yet.
But Owen doesn’t care.
Owen can’t stop himself from grinding into Jacob’s thigh when his hands slide down to cup Owen’s naked ass, memory flooding