Fic: tearing my seams - Part Two

[freakykat]

Title: tearing my seams
Author(s): freakykat
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: Jake Silbermann/Van Hansis

Summary: It's getting dark, darling. Too dark to see.





part two





Jake stops half-way up the second flight of stairs on his way up to Van's apartment. He'd told Van living on the top floor would be a hassle.

Top floor is the best, baby.

Jake smiles at the memory. He rests his head against the wall, takes long, deep breaths to soothe the pain spreading through his chest. It hurts a little more every minute. He just needs to get inside and lie down for a while.

You'd think having supernatural abilities would make his situation easier, he thinks. Jake laughs because – he has fucking supernatural healing powers.

“Benicio Del Toro didn't have to deal with this shit.”

He pushes off the wall, starts back up, counting the stairs and not the distance. It takes him less time then he'd thought to reach Van's floor. He walks steadily, with a turtle's pace, toward Van's door. When he finally gets there, he touches his forehead to the solid wood. He fumbles with his keys and finds the right ones.

He enters the apartment, freezes as he steps inside, letting the door fall from his grip. It shuts quietly behind him.

There's something he doesn't recognize happening.

He moves slowly into Van's living room, drops his bag on the floor with a thud, and heads into the bedroom. He smiles at the bed, mussed and messy, sheets falling to the floor. Some things never change. He bends to pick them up, twinge in his arm that makes him gasp and breathe in fast.

The smell that reaches his nose makes him groan out loud, startling Jake. His face buries itself in the sheets and he rubs against them. He drops them like they’re on fire and jumps away.

Jake rubs his eyes. “What the fuck was that?”

The urge to dive in and make a place there is overwhelming. It’s supposed to have Van's scent and his, that's what his instincts tell him.

“Jesus.”

He forces his feet to move out of the room, doesn't feel it lessening anywhere in the apartment. He thinks he should leave but for the first time since he woke up in a stranger's house with this thing running through his blood, he feels steadier. Like this is exactly where he's supposed to be even if that thought scares the shit out of him.

Going home to his parents wasn't an option.

They'd yelled when he'd refused, begged him through tears and he'd almost given in but Gabe's warning rang in his head. He assured them he was okay. That he loved them. Asked that they give everyone a hug. He promised them he'd be safe. After he settled down, spoke with Van and made sure he could be here, he'd call them again.

He sinks into the cushions of the couch, lets his head drop back and replays the nightmare inside his mind. The crash that had sent him spiraling out of the control. His stupidity by not getting back into the fucking car as soon as he'd seen there was nothing on the road. His mistake of going to the stupid party instead of home the way he wanted.

Now...

This is his life. Running away from a crazy werewolf, being corralled by an angry werewolf, turning into a werewolf...

Jake feels the hysterical bubble of laughter spring up and he lets it escape, starts giggling until his eyes sting with tears he hasn't allowed to appear. He knows it won't help anything to panic but – he can't imagine what his life will be like. Learning to live with the monster he can feel inside, pushing to get loose.

His career, his family, his friends, Van are all in danger because of him.

Van.

His eyes fly open.

He shouldn't be here.

Van is –

He doesn't understand why he feels how he does here, like nothing can touch him. Or why he wants to stay buried in everything that reminds him of Van.

He only knows he shouldn't.

Jake rushes to his feet, pain exploding in his side and he bends forward, tries to keep the scream in but it feels like he ripped something. He doesn't understand what it could be. There's a slow spreading of warmth near his stomach and when he glances down, Jake freezes. The white of the bandage is turning pink.

The sound of the door opening reaches him ten seconds too late.

Van stands at the entryway, hands limp at his side, his face white, gold-brown eyes glowing in the setting sun streaming through the windows.

His voice trembles when he says Jake's name.

Before Jake can warn him, before he can move away, Van's arms are around his neck, his face buried in Jake's chest, breathing harsh and uneven on his skin.

Jake senses it, the change in Van's heartbeat, his temperature rising. He can smell the day on him, the dust of the street, the tinge of alcohol. He bites back the growl when the scent of someone else reaches him. He clenches his fists at his side to keep from rubbing against Van, from making sure the reminder of that other person is gone.

Something deep and dark stirs in Jake.

Van belongs to him.





Van thinks that if this is a dream, a hallucination, he really doesn't give a shit. He breathes in deep and lets out a teary laugh when it's Jake that he smells, tastes at the back of his throat. Jake is warm and alive and right here with him.

It had been the worst day of his life.

When he and Alex had returned from lunch early, Eleanor had taken one look at Van's face and canceled the rest of the rehearsal. Alex volunteered to keep him company until Billy called. He couldn't face his apartment. Not when he knew that was the last place he'd seen Jake. That was where he'd denied everything because he was afraid to change anything. Because he was scared that if it didn't work out, he'd lose Jake. And that...

That wasn't an option.

Except it didn't matter that he'd broken his and Jake's hearts, he'd still lost him.

He'd stopped in the middle of the street, the idea that he would never see Jake again striking him dumb and mute.

The last image he would ever have of Jake was the way his blue gaze had dimmed when Van had turned him away.

The last words he'd said to Jake were no and we can't.

Alex had led him to a bar, held his hand when Van couldn't speak, made him drink something to calm his nerves. Van barely remembered any of it, his mind swirling with memories of Jake, moments that he could have changed what he said or did.

It was driving him crazy to know that if he'd told his truth, Jake might not have been on that road.

He would have been with Van.

Hours later, Alex dropped him off at the entrance to his apartment and Van rejected his offer to come up. He needed to be alone. He had to wait for Billy to call him. Van had to think of what their next move was. Where they would start.

Opening his front door to find Jake standing in the middle of his living room, terrified expression on his face when he looked at Van, had made his heart literally stop. Van had taken in the bruises on Jake's face, the way he seemed to sag to one side, hand on his stomach like that would put an end to the obvious pain he was in.

He thought he should ask if Jake was okay. Demand to know where the fuck he'd been. Yell at him for scaring them all.

But all that came out was Jake's name, tremulous and disbelieving.

He needed to touch Jake.

The feeling was so overwhelming that Van couldn't resist the urge to. He stood in front of Jake, and in the next heartbeat, his arms were pulling him down, his nose buried to make sure he was real.

He'd spent the better part of the day thinking he'd never get this chance again.

Van melts into Jake, runs his hands over Jake's shoulder, pulls him closer to bury his face deeper in Jake's neck. “What happened?” Van's voice is soft and reassuring. He doesn't want to scare Jake any more than he is. He can feel the trembling in him and it makes Van’s heart hurt. “Tell me, baby.”

The words are out before he can check them and Jake makes a wounded noise at them. He pushes Van away, steps back until Van can see his face. He can't think at the damage he sees and his hands itch to soothe it all away.

Jake takes another step back as Van tries to get closer, holds his hand out, palm up where the scratches are still visible and shakes his head. “Van...don't.”

“I just want to make sure you're okay.” Van moves forward, ignores the tortured sound that emanates from Jake's throat, and grabs his wrist, pulls him closer. The scratches are red and bruising, swollen where the skin is starting to heal. They look worse from where Van is now standing.

He takes a deep breath, pushes the knot of anger down and traces the damage.

Jake flinches at the touch and Van wants to punch something so fucking hard that it's almost blinding.

“Don't.”

There's something else there that he doesn't understand. It's not the wounds that are making Jake hunch in on himself. When Van looks into his eyes, his breath catches in his throat.

Jake's eyes are almost completely black, a thin line of blue surrounding the iris but it's the heat that radiates from them that makes Van pause.

It's complete and unadulterated want. It's the way Jake has always looked at Van – that same look Van works to ignore completely – times a thousand. The heat feels darker, stronger and Van's heart beats erratically against his chest. He can see the warning in Jake's stance, in the way his hands clench at his side, the tense line of his back.

He knows he needs to take a step back, give Jake the space he seems to want but -

Van can't.

Maybe if he hadn't spent the last few hours afraid he'd never see Jake again, he could. But the fear that Jake was dead still fresh in his mind won't let him move away. Even if he could push past that, Jake bruised, ugly red marks on his throat and arms and hands, won't let him. He needs to touch. He wants to know that Jake is real and alive and in front of him.

He stands in Jake's space before he realizes he even moved.

“Don't fight me. Please.”

Jake shakes his head, tries to ward him off with one hand which Van grabs, folds his fingers around Jake's and tugs with more force than he thinks might be necessary. Their bodies meld together, fit in that perfect way that shouldn't be and Van feels Jake shudder under his hands. He massages the back of Jake's neck, slow and steady, starts when Jake's fingers grip his waist hard enough to leave imprints. Van swallows at the spark of electricity that runs down his spine and settles at the base as his breath quickens. His eyes slide shut of their own accord when Jake's nose skims over the skin of his neck, settles on the crook between it and his shoulder.

When Jake breathes deep, like he's trying to taste Van, take him in, he startles them both with a moan and feels Jake freeze.

Van doesn't know what to do.





It's too much of everything and he can't control it. That shifting of whatever he has inside scares him. He wants to turn and run out of Van's apartment. Van's presence. Van's life. Jake knows that Drake was wrong. He can't stop this from happening. No matter how much he thinks he can. Wishes he can.

He can feel that this is different, though. That it's not that surge of rage that he'd felt since he'd woken up from the attack. This is... an ache that claws at him. It's been growing for days, festering. Only when he'd stepped inside Van's home did it start to subside. And when he'd seen Van, it was like a balm to the wounds he couldn't see. The problem is he trades that ache for a want so strong it makes him take a step back. He flashes to an image of Van under him, legs spread wide, hands clenched on Jake's shoulders, back arched, mouth red and swollen.

When Van steps closer, Jake warns him off, tries to keep their distance so he can think. It doesn't hit him that the ache lessens when Van touches him. Not until he finds Van in his arms, flush against his body and it's like a wave of relief flows over him. It's right. This is right. The only thing that makes sense, that feels good is Van.

Jake wants to keep him forever.

He pushes his nose into the skin of Van's neck and smells him. Relishes that scent and the way it makes his toes curl, his skin tingle, his heart race. The way it makes him want to pull Van up, push him against the wall, trace his tongue over the cords of his neck. He wants to mark him. So everyone and everything in the known world understands he belongs to Jake.

His hands find their way under Van's shirt, nails digging into the warm skin on his side and he scrapes upward, feels the skin tear under them. He licks Van's scent onto his tongue, laps at the pulse just under Van's jaw. He rubs his face against the stubble, leaves his own scent behind. It's what Van should smell like. Like the two of them. He drops open mouthed kisses to the side of Van's face, the corner of his eye, slides his nose over Van's. The echoes of Van's gasps are like a separate touch, like fingers dragging over Jake's skin. His hands grip tighter and the moan that escapes from them both is enough to shake him back. Their cocks are rubbing through the denim of their jeans.

He thinks that it doesn't make sense.

Van didn't want him.

Except he did.

He stops his hands from ripping at Van's shirt, from throwing him on the floor and fucking him through it. He opens his eyes to met Van's confused, needy look. Their foreheads are touching and Jake tries to breathe deep, catches the scent that is the two of them and growls in the back of his throat. He feels his control on the animal loosen and he can't. He can't let that happen. Not here.

“Van.”

His voice is wrecked, syllables rough and round.

“Yes?”

Van isn't sounding any better.

“You need to move.”

He can feel Van's reluctance, even his disappointment and he can't help the kiss that he drops on Van's parted lips. “I don't want to... this isn't how I wanted it.”

Van starts to say something but Jake shakes his head, their skin rubbing together and sending another thrill through him. “Please. Van, you have to do it. I can't.”

“You can't what?”

“I can't let you go.”





Van understands and after a torturous moment of silence, pulls his arms loose from Jake's grip. He yanks harder than he expected to and stumbles back. He wraps his hand around the wrist that Jake had been gripping and is surprised when he looks down to find a reddening mark. It makes something he doesn't name flutter in his chest. When he glances up at Jake, his heart breaks at the horrified expression on his best friend's face. Jake's eyes are trained on the bruise, color draining from his face.

“Hey,” he remembers to stand in place, to keep that safe margin of space between them but speaks louder, “Jake. Look at me. Look at my face.”

Jake meets his stare and before either of them can say anything else, the doorbell rings, makes them both jump almost out of their skin.

Van makes his way to the door.

Billy stands there, suitcase in hand, looking like he hasn't slept in days, which Van supposes he hasn't. He glares at Van hard before he steps around him and stops short at the sight of Jake hovering in the background.

“Jesus fucking Christ. Jake. Oh my god.”

Van starts to warn Billy to keep his distance, that Jake can't seem to handle being touched but it gets stuck in his throat because Billy is already clutching Jake tight and Jake--

Jake is clutching him back, hands digging into Billy's back, white knuckled. His gaze finds Van's across the room and the apology in them doesn't explain anything.

Doesn't make the hurt any less.





Billy sits next to Jake on the couch, hands him the cup of hot tea and watches Van watch Jake. There's a palpable tension in the room, heavy and thick, that Billy can't explain. That's never been the case with Van and Jake. From the moment he met them, and from the moment they met each other, everything had flowed, been easy between the two.

This is all strange and very wrong.

Van shifts forward, making Jake jump slightly back, scoot a little closer to Billy.

The look on Van's face is heartbreaking.

“Okay. What the fuck is going on?” He turns to Jake, smoothes one hand gently down his arm, tries not to cringe at the scratches and bruises darkening the skin around his wrists. There's a bandage peeking out from under Jake's shirt on his shoulder.

“I got – I was -” Jake closes his eyes and breathes through his nose.

He exchanges a terrified look with Van, leans against Jake, one hand on his friend's knee. “You can tell us anything, Jake.” The possibilities going through his mind are too horrible to think on for too long. Jake is a mess. His hair and clothes falling limply on him. His face and arms bruised. Scratches on his face, one eye half shut from a black eye, lips swollen, cut.

“Was it – was it the accident?”

Jake's eyes fly open and he stares at Billy, tenses. “How do you --”

Van speaks softly, and Billy can see his struggle not to touch Jake. “The police found your car this morning.”

It feels like a year to Billy, the start of this nightmare, and he nods when Jake looks at him for confirmation. “Yeah. I – I went to the cops yesterday when no one had heard from you.”

Jake covers his face with his hands. “Right. Right.” He mumbles into his hands. “Did it – has it been on the news or in the media at all?”

Billy furrows his brow, shakes his head as he says, “No. I mean, I don't think so.” He doesn't know what to do with the way Jake's face crumbles and he tries to keep it together.

He takes a few deep breathes. “Okay. Okay.”

“Jake. You need to tell us what happened.”

Billy doesn't understand any of what's going on but Van seems to have more of an idea. It's scary to think Jake doesn't seem to trust him. That's just – it's not possible.

Their gazes are locked, Van's face, set with a determined scowl in contrast to Jake's pale, scared one. Billy wants to help but he doesn't have a precedent for this.

He doesn't think they'll get anywhere when Jake finally speaks, and Billy wishes he hadn't.

“I was attacked.”

Billy closes his eyes, hopes that they hadn't hurt Jake, that it hadn't been something he couldn't come back from.

Van's voice is steady but kind. “We can see that, baby.” He scoots forward, hands twitching to reach for Jake. “Tell us who did it.” There's a steel edge to Van's words and Billy almost feels sorry for the bastard that hurt Jake.

He sees the fear flicker across Jake's face.

Almost.

“It wasn't a who.”

Billy sends Van a confused glance but doesn't linger, turns his attention back to Jake.

“Then – it was – a what?”

Jake nods. “Exactly. A what.” He takes a moment to collect himself, then looks first at Billy, holding his gaze for a beat before turning it to Van.

“A werewolf. It was a werewolf.”





Jake doesn't move once he's said it out loud. It's the first time he's done that and it only happened because he can't think of a lie that Billy or Van would believe. Especially Van, who can tell when Jake isn't telling the truth better than most anyone aside from his parents.

Van searches his eyes, leans closer to him and his scent wraps itself through Jake's mind and inside, makes something dark move under his skin. He flinches, sees the way it makes Van's eyes dim and he hates it. He hates it so much.

“I'm sorry. I don't – I don't know why -”

Billy looks pale, scared and Jake knows it's because he doesn't believe what Jake said. He fears that his friend is crazy. Jake can't blame for that either. He probably would have the same reaction.

Van stands, moves across the room. Jake has to bite down on the need to be next to him, to taste him. A vision of Van, back arched, lips swollen, pressed against Jake assaults his mind and it startles a moan out of him. When he opens his eyes, Van is staring at him, gaze hot. Jake swallows, waves his hand and curls his feet under him. If he can just make himself as small as possible, he could keep it all under control.

“Jake, you do realize, man, that's just not – if something happened that you can't tell us, that's okay.”

Jake lets out a hysterical giggle.

“I told you I got bit by a werewolf. I think it's safe to say I would tell you pretty much anything.”

Billy glances at Van and Jake does the same. He knows he's going to be alone in this but he needs to at least warn them.

Van is watching him closely.

The silence in the room is choking him and Jake wants Van to say something. Anything. It doesn't matter what as long as he speaks. Van is never quiet. It's unnatural.

“It happened that night?”

That wasn't what he expected, makes him have to tamp down on the hope that rises in his chest that maybe, just maybe, Van won’t turn him away. Again.

Jake nods. “I had just gotten off the phone with Billy.” It's like a reel being played inside his head. He can see himself driving, the full moon, the dark road. That moment when he was hit, the panic at thinking that was the end. “Somewhere close to the bottom of the road, something hit my car and I – I skidded, lost control, almost fell off the side of the mountain.”

He glances at Van, pauses at the way his hands are curled into fists, at how he looks so pissed that Jake thinks there should be steam coming out of his ears.

“What the fuck were you doing on that road, Jake?” He seethes and it brings up his own defenses.

“I'm a grown man, Van. I don't need to explain my decisions. Yeah, I admit it probably wasn't my best one but you get no say in them.”

Van opens his mouth to argue but Billy cuts him off. “So what happened after that?”

He tells them about the blood on the car, the figure he saw on the road. About running into the only cover he saw. He skipped over the gory details of the attack. He did mention Gabe and Drake. How they rescued him.

“They killed it.”

Billy's eyebrows shoot up. “They what?”

Jake sighs. “They killed it – her. To save me. And now – apparently, she had a husband – Gabe called him her mate – and he's -”

“What, Jake?”

He can't met Van's gaze. “He's after me.”

“To what?”

Jake looks at Billy and his friend's face has lost all color. “This is – Jake, you realize this is completely crazy, don't you?”

“Yeah.”

Van walks to his windows, arms crossed over his chest. Jake can sense him. Can hear his breathing, can almost taste him even from across the room. It scares him how aware he is of everything Van does. That it sends raw want through his body. Makes him ache so much worse than ever before.

“Gabe and Drake, they took me in, got me patched up, helped me get here. They're trying to help – they are,” he insists when Billy gives him an incredulous stare. “I know you don't understand or believe.”

He takes a moment, looks down at his hands when he speaks. “I can feel it inside me. This rage. It's a dull whir in my head. Sometimes, it's like I'm seeing everything through a foggy window. I don't know – I can't explain it but I know it's not me. Not just me.”

He meets Van's eyes. “I'm not going to be able to control it.”

Billy drops his head onto his hands, makes a pained noise and Jake touches his arm, his gaze never straying from Van's.

“I understand if you don't believe me.”

Van's eyes widen and he shakes his head making Jake's heart drop, has to look away. He can't do this alone.

“Of course I believe you, moron.”

Jake whips his head up, locks eyes with Van, heart beating so fast in his chest he thinks it might break free from it. “I – really?”

Van rolls his eyes, starts to move closer then thinks better of it. “I know that there are things in this world we can't explain. I know you've been hurt. I know you don't lie to me.” Van swallows and smiles softly. “I believe you.”

Billy stands up. “I need – to go – there.” He rushes out of the room into the hallway that leads to Van's bedroom. Jake hears the door shut behind him.

Being alone with Van makes it hard to concentrate on anything else. He rakes his gaze from Van's head, pauses at the way his chest raises and falls, the dark shadows of his nipples through the white shirt. He knows the muscles on his stomach, remembers the way they felt pressed against him.

“Jake.”

He brings his gaze up to Van's at the rough edge in his voice, sees the heat aimed at him.

Van hesitates for a moment, starts and stops his way toward Jake until they're only a few feet apart.

“Is – are you afraid of me? Do you think -”

Jake shakes his head. “No. I'm scared that I will hurt you.”

Van snorts.

“You never would.”

Before he can respond, his cell phone rings and he fumbles in his jacket to pull it out. The number isn't one he knows but he can't take any chances not answering it.

“Hello?”

“Jake.”

It's Drake.

“Hey, yeah. I'm here.”

“We know.” Drake says, amusement lining his words, “Have you spoken to Van, yet?” Jake had filled Drake in on where he was going and with who.

“Yeah. I have. He's taking it – pretty well, considering.”

“Well, that's a blessing, isn't it?”

Jake nods, clears his throat and ignores the narrowed glare Van is giving him. He can deal with that in a minute. He's kind of worried about his reactions since he got there.

“Drake. I think – something is going on.”

There's a long pause before Drake asks, “What do you mean?”

He turns his back on Van, speaks quietly. “I can feel it – inside – but it's not – it's not like before. It only happens –” He senses Van shift behind him and swallows hard. “It's Van. I – when he's near me –“

“You need to be near him?”

Jake blinks. “Yes.”

He didn't understand that until Drake said it but that was it. He needs to be near Van.

The silence that greets that answer scares him.

“Drake?”

“Yeah. Jake, you already know.”

He does. Or at least he thinks he understands. He swallows, closes his eyes. It was something Jake had known even before any of this.

“He doesn't want it.”

“That's not how it works. If it wasn't right, you wouldn't feel it.”

Van takes a few steps, stands right behind him and Jake leans back toward the heat that seems to radiate from him.

He makes a broken sound when Van's hand rests on his hip.

“That's – Jake. It's – wow. Okay, listen to me. Stay there, okay? Don't go anywhere. Gabe and I are going to take the first flight out...” Jake hears grumbling in the background, raises an eyebrow when Drake's tone changes to something he can't quite understand. He's back on the line before Jake can ask anything. “We'll be there soon.”

The call cuts off, makes Jake open his eyes to glance down at Van's hand skimming over his bandages. He grips the phone tight and tries to breathe through it.

“You're bleeding.”

Jake nods.

“Sit the fuck down.” Van pushes him down on the couch, making Jake grimace slightly. Van stops, frowns as he looks at him, his lips a thin line of anger. “You need a doctor.”

Jake shakes his head. “What exactly will I say? These aren't wounds you can just explain away. Besides, they're better.” At Van's disbelieving grunt, Jake glances up, feels the stutter in his chest that he associates with Van. Always with Van. Only with Van. “I'm sorry for dropping all this on you, man.” He wishes he'd thought it through more. Van was in danger now. “I didn't have anywhere else to go.”

Van's face softens, his eyes warming and Jake can see his friend in that expression. “Don't be stupid. You can always count on me.” He stares at him for another few seconds, then shaking his head, disappears into his room.

Jake rests his head back against the couch, tries to force his muscles to relax, to let down his guard. It doesn't work but he concentrates on breathing.

There are too many thoughts going through his mind, each worse than the one before, and it's all he can do not to lose it completely.

What the hell was he going to do with his life now?

The press of a hand on his cheek startles him, makes Jake jump, his eyes flying open. He meets Van's worried gaze, throat drying out at how close he is. Jake can smell him, another churn of jealousy at the scent of someone else on his skin. The heat radiating from Van seeps into his own skin and sends his nerves blazing.
He groans deep, scoots further away but Van frowns, line of confusion lining his forehead. Jake needs to stop looking at him so he forces his stare down, noting the first aid kit now open on Van's lap. He's holding a fresh bandage.

“We need to change that.”

Jake wants to shake his head, is going to give an emphatic “hell no” but Van is quicker. He sets everything aside, reaches out and starts to unbutton Jake's shirt. Jake grits his teeth, breathes harshly whenever Van's fingers brush against his skin. Van moves him around, helps his remove his arms from the sleeves and sets his shirt on the table.

Their eyes meet briefly before they each look away.

Jake holds in another moan as Van tries to remove his bloody bandage, hisses at the warmth caressing his side and Van freezes, whispers, “Am I hurting you?”

He lets out a tight laugh. “No.”

Van watches him for a second before he continues, extra careful when he gets the bandage sticking to his skin off. He cleans off the wound and Jake closes his eyes so he doesn't stare at Van's fingers as they work.

He has a thing for Van's hands.

It's faster going to get the new bandage on and before he knows it, they're done. He opens his eyes to thank Van but the words gets stuck in his throat at the look he catches on Van's face.

Jake can't describe it. Won't believe it.

The want inside flares into an unbearable degree and he surges forward, grabs the back of Van's head hard, drags him closer. Van gasps into his mouth when Jake brings their lips together. He doesn't press down, lets them hover there, tasting Van's breath. His whole body trembles, pushes for him to mount Van, to take him on the couch, or the floor or wherever he can.

“Okay, I think I’m -- oh.” Billy stops in the doorway, eyes wide as he takes in the scene which Jake can only imagines looks pretty incriminating. “I’ll just--” It clears his head and letting go completely, stands, putting distance between them.

“No, it’s okay.”

He can see Van trying to compose himself so he looks at Billy, nods once. “You feeling better?”

Billy snorts. “Shouldn’t that be my question?”

Jake tries to smile but can’t quite make it. He wants to reach for Van, taste his skin, his breath, it’s this throbbing pain and he doesn’t know how to make it better any other way.

Van looks at him then flicks his gaze over to Billy. “I think we all need some rest. Sleep. Jake’s friends will be here in a few hours. Maybe we should --”

Billy nods, eyeing Jake carefully. “Yeah, I got to say you look ready to fall, man.” He reaches for Jake, hugs him gently, dropping a kiss to his temple. “I’m so fucking glad you’re alive.”

Jake returns the hug. “Me, too.”

When he steps back, Van is looking away, jaw tense, arms crossed. He must sense Jake and looks at him, eyes blazing with something Jake can’t describe, doesn’t have the energy to try to figure out.

Billy clears his throat. “I can crash on the floor if you want to take the couch, Van. Jake should probably get the bed.”

Van stares at Billy. “There’s a guest room, Billy. You sleep there.”

Jake turns to Van. “I’ll sleep out here. It’s fine.”

“The hell you will.” Van looks angry, lips pressed into a thin line. “You’re sleeping in my bed.”

“Van, I’m not going to kick you out of your own --”

Van glares at him as he walks toward the hall that led to the rooms. “Who said you were?”

Jake’s heart speeds up, head shaking before he can control it. “No. I -- we-- no, Van.”

The laugh he receives goes straight down his spine, hot and on the edge of dark, it surprises Jake with its intensity. Van stares at him, head tilted. “If you think I’m letting you out of my sight, Jake, you’re fucking crazy.”

He disappears into one of the rooms before Jake can argue.

He sighs deeply, runs a hand over his hair.

He is so fucked.




|Part Three|