Texas, however, seems to be the exception to every rule. He raps sharply on the screen door to the porch before he can talk himself out of it, rocking back on his heels, and he tries not to think too much about the fact that he's melting. Or why he's here in the first place, like a beggar or salesman or both. The neighborhood is quiet, immaculate rows of suburban houses and neatly trim lawns. The air is redolent with the scent of freshly mown grass. In the distance, Chad can hear the snik-snik whirl of a sprinkler, the tinny sound of the radio through an open window. Pleasant Valley Sunday come to life. He has no fucking business bringing his drama and his bullshit into this. Jared had been right three months ago; hell, he'd been right six years ago when they'd first met. He's not cut out for domestic, for normal. He wouldn't know what to do with it if he tried. But it's not going to fucking stop him. He's here, goddammit. He's going to make the effort, and he's not going anywhere until Jared listens to him. He hears Jared before he even sees him – fucker moves like a herd of elephants, no subtlety at all. But then, Jared never did have much use for it. Chad watches – and tries not to stare – as Jared comes stomping out on the porch and jerks the door open, brows snapped together in an impressive frown. He's more tanned and muscled than when Chad had last seen him – had it really only been three months ago? – and his hair is sun-streaked, curling wildly over his ears and forehead. He looks even taller, if possible, and his loose tank top and frayed cut-offs don't do a thing to disguise the fact that he's obviously been hitting the weight bench. He looks furious as all hell, eyes narrowed, stance combative. He looks good enough to eat. "What're you doing here?" Hardly the welcome Chad had wanted. But one he'd reminded himself to expect. Start as you mean to go on... "Came to talk," he shrugs. Jared crosses his arms over his chest. "You came to talk?" "Just said so," Chad snaps, then pinches the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath. Not doing this, this isn't how he's starting, even if Jared could piss him off faster than anyone in the world. After a moment, Chad finds his tongue and some measure of diplomacy. "Mind letting me in so I don't die out here?" "You're not gonna die, you moron. It's not even 90 yet," Jared says, rolling his eyes. He doesn't move. "C'mon, man..." "You're fine where you are." Chad glances from the shadowed line of Jared's jaw to his hands, curled into huge fists and thinks about what else they could be curled around. About what he'd fucked up, and how the last time they'd seen each other, Chad had come out of it with a black eye and a few bruised ribs and knuckles scraped raw. And hell, at this point, he'd rather have the two of them beating the shit out of each other than this cold silence with the weight of the past and expectations settling on his shoulders like he's some sort of Atlas. He'd done this to himself. "Missed you," he finally mutters. He's got to start somewhere. "What about Kenzie?" Jared asks just as quietly, still not moving. Chad squints in the bright sunlight, looks up into Jared's eyes, for once not cursing Jared's height advantage. He takes another breath, feeling sweat trickle between his shoulder blades and rolling down. Takes the chance he should have taken a long time ago. Says what he should have said three months and one very retarded engagement ago. "I didn't invite her." "Which means...?" Yeah, Jared's not going to make this easy at all. "It means I ended it with her, alright. We're done." "Congratulations. Couldn't handle not being invited to the Senior picnic?" "Fuck you, man..." Chad throws up his hands, and stalks around the yard, delivering pointed jabs in Jared's direction with each step. "I don't know why I fucking bothered..." "Yeah, well, I don't either –" "Shut up, alright." Chad takes the steps two at a time until he's crowding Jared, pressed close enough to see the flecks of gold in Jared's eyes. "What the hell do you want from me? You want me to tell you I fucked up, that I'm sorry, that I'm a piece of shit and you were right and I was wrong, what?" When Jared looks back at him, his bangs fall in front of his eyes. Chad can no longer read his expression. "Why are you here?" Jared asks, low and quiet, like he's afraid to disturb the air between them. "Fucking told you already, man." "Guess you did." For a long moment, Jared stares at him. "That your car?" he asks, jerking a thumb at the rental in the front drive. Chad rolls his eyes. "Uh, yeah, dumbass. I didn't walk from the airport." "Stop trying to be clever. You're not any good at it." Jared holds out his hand. "Gimme the keys. I'll take you back to the airport." "Fuck you, J. You're not..." Chad stops, takes a deep breath. Not what he wants, man, not how he wanted to be here. No more fighting. "I'm here. I fucking flew all the way out here to talk to you. Isn't that enough?" "Is it?" "You tell me," he says, stepping closer. Jared takes a step back. "I'm not gonna let you –" "It's not gonna be like that again." "No, it's not. Because I meant what I said last time." "Well, that's just too fucking bad. 'Cause I'm not going anywhere." The screen door squeaks when Jared opens it and he shoves Chad down the steps and into the yard, stomping after him, flip-flops clacking on wooden planks. Chad whirls around, dancing out of Jared's hold, blood pumping, ready for another round. Then Jared shoves his hair out of his face, and Chad can finally see what he thinks he should have seen all along. Pain and hope and anger and maybe a few other things...maybe. The fight goes out of him, leaving him drained, wrecked, floundering. "What do you want from me?" he asks, desperation making his voice rough. "You want me to beg, you want me on my knees, what?" The answering shrug is too deliberate to be casual. "Maybe I do." Somehow...Chad had always known it would come down to this. To the two of them, stripped down and laid bare. He drops to his knees without a second thought, wincing as he hits a rock hidden in the soft, Bermuda grass. He spreads his arms wide, lets the heat seep into him, under his tank top, into his bones, and looks up at Jared, gaze steady. "Right here, man. Whatever you want." He means it with everything in him. Jared's framed by the sun, haloed by shadows. He looks otherworldly, pagan. "What if I want the way it was?" "Way it was, I fucked you over and got married, then fucked you over and got engaged," Chad says, reminding them both. Not that he think he needs to, but he thinks it's important that he own up to it. Important that he owns up to a lot of things. "Before that, dumbass," Jared retorts, laughing. It's a good sound. "Back in the old days." The old days? "Are you kidding? We had no idea what the hell we were doing." "I know. But I miss...fuck, man, I dunno, discovering it. With you. Back before you became an asshole." "I was always an asshole." But Chad drags the words out, thinking of the way it used to be. Of lazy evenings in Jared's tiny-ass bedroom of the tiny-ass apartment he'd shared with four other guys off of Sunset and Wilcox. Of playing video games all night and getting stoned on the miniscule patio, of exploring each other and trying not to moan too much so no one would hear through the paper-thin walls. Ramen noodles and Kool-aid and drinking Pabst all the time because it was cheap, and thinking there was no place on earth he'd rather be, because Jared had been right there, close and so alive and real. "We can't go back, J," he finally says sadly. Too much has happened – time, space, fame, girls, too many fucking girls, at least, on Chad's part. They've moved on. Much as Chad wishes they hadn't. He's afraid he's said the wrong thing, waited too long, fucked it all up (again, like he always does), but then Jared smiles, slow and wide, and Chad's heart stumbles in his chest. He's almost afraid to hold his breath. "Well, maybe not, but maybe we can be better." Jared holds out a hand. It looms impossibly large in the space between them. "Wanna come back to the guesthouse and play GTA?" It's a second chance – a first chance to do it right. "Sure," Chad smiles, and it seems like the most natural thing in the world for him to hold on and let Jared tug him up. Chad doesn't even hesitate, doesn't even think about it. Because this is all they have, the only chance Chad has to make sure Jared won't change his mind. He steps close, thighs and chest brushing against Jared's, breathing in Jared's scent. He smells like expensive pot and expensive cologne – sweet, but with a sharp underbite. Pure Jared. "You sure?" Jared asks, but his eyes are clear, lips parting automatically, anticipating the kiss. The first taste is bitter, like smoke, and Chad leans into it, hands firm on Jared's hips for balance. "I'm sure," he says, when he lifts his head. "No more bullshit, no more lies, just me and you." "You better mean this, because if you're fucking me, I will drop kick your ass into the fucking river and drown you." Chad knows Jared's not even joking. But then Jared starts to lick and nip on Chad's throat, slipping a hand up under his shirt, thumbnail catching on his nipple, and Chad stops caring about anything else. He doesn't think they can go too far where they are – which is in the front yard in full view of Jared's folks and the neighbors and shit – but it's not exactly stopping him from tilting his head back to enjoy the feel of soft lips and scratchy stubble on his skin. Fuck, man, but he's missed this. Missed Jared and the way it used to be so easy and right. He clears his throat, and prays his voice won't crack. "Uh...you...um...wanna maybe..." Jared lifts his head then, smiling that wide, slow smile that Chad had immediately equated with secrets and sex the first time he'd ever seen it, years ago, when he'd almost been too young to know what a smile like that really meant. "Yeah, alright," Jared says, and runs the back of cool fingers across Chad's cheek. Chad thinks very visually about sucking on Jared's fingers. "C'mon." He follows Jared's loping, long-legged stride to the small guest house around back. Soon as they step inside the shadowed living room, Chad can tell this is where Jared's been spending most of his time. It's a typical guy on vacation – Papa John's pizza boxes stacked by the front door, half-empty cans of Coke and Bud on the coffee table next to a beat-up looking PSP, scripts and magazines scattered on the carpet. The furniture looks battered and second-hand and the sofa has to be at least an eight-footer. Looks like it's been frozen in time from Jared's teenage days. The kitchen's more kitchenette, and there's short hallway that presumably leads to a bedroom. Chad takes this all in at a glance, and turns into Jared's hopeful look with a shrug and a half-twist of a smile. "S'nice, man." It's all he can think to say. "Little messy," and Jared does that head duck thing that means he's a little embarrassed about something. Which is just odd, considering. Not that Chad's going to sweat it or anything, because this is Jared, and all he wants to do now is lick at Jared's dimples and sink his teeth into Jared's ass. They've got a lot of time to make up for. Something in his stance or look or something must've tipped Jared off, because it's like someone turned a switch. One second, Jared's all puppy-dog and the next, it's like someone let a wolf out. It only takes Jared about two steps to crowd Chad's space, looming over him as his chest presses against Chad's, thighs molding together. Chad can feel the steady thump of Jared's heart against his when he lifts his head to stare into Jared's eyes. The thing about doing anything upright is that there are those two inches between them, and Chad had never really thought about being short until he'd gotten tangled up with Jared. But by now, he's used to having to pull down on Jared just a little to get their mouths fit together. Jared's hair is silk soft and longer than it had been, and Chad has no problem twisting his fingers in it now, holding on for dear life. Jared sucks hard on Chad's lower lip, biting and nipping as he starts walking them backward, one of his legs sliding between Chad's until he has Chad backed against a wall, the edge of a picture frame digging into Chad's skull until he tilts his head forward. Jared seems to take that as an invitation. His mouth is hotter than the sun, slick and assured when he leans down and licks a long stripe from Chad's neck to a weird soft spot just below his collarbones that he hadn't even known he had until Jared blows warm air onto damp skin. It takes Chad a minute to realize that the short bursts of air are actually Jared trying to say something. Jared's fingers are hooked into Chad's belt loops, and his other hand clenches at the bottom of Chad's wife beater. "You're ok with this," and Jared says it all in one rush, more a pant than a question. This is a joke, right? Chad laughs -- more exhale than anything -- and slides his lips along Jared's jaw, ending right at the hollow of his throat. "Duh," Chad murmurs, tongue flickering out to taste slightly salty skin. Aftershave and sweat and something underneath that's all Jared. Yes. The unspoken word – the answer to every question – hangs in the air between them, fraught with promise. Chad can feel Jared's smile against his lips, and this time, there's no hesitation in the kiss. Jared slides his tongue into Chad's mouth like he means to own it, and Chad responds with an eager moan, pressing into the tight line of Jared's body with a hunger he'd almost forgotten he had. The waistband of Jared's shorts digs into Chad's stomach, and Chad shifts again, angling his hips, needing more friction, more of Jared's hands, more of his mouth, more of everything. He tugs on Jared's hair, impatient and rough, and Jared makes a low, growling sound before knocking him into the wall again. They both groan when Jared slides impatient hands under Chad's shirt, tracing over the scar on Chad's belly, running over each rib, re-memorizing each one by touch. Chad slides his hands down to Jared's shoulders, gripping and pulling, cursing the thin barrier of clothing that's between him and naked skin. "This...has...to...go." Chad tugs until Jared pulls his shirt off in an awkward twist of elbows and stretching fabric. Jared's eagerly back a moment later, acres of warm sun-kissed skin that Chard can't help but touch, light across the collar bone, teeth just barely biting. Jared's back feels flawless, muscular, familiar, and Jared gasps, moving helplessly forward when Chad sucks hard on his nipple. He scratches softly at Jared's back and presses in as he moves back up, Jared's neck too much of a temptation to resist for long. Jared presses both hands against the wall on either side of Chad's head, barely keeping himself steady if the tremors in his arms are any indication. Chad changes direction, mouthing the underside of Jared's elbow, the soft skin and prominent veins, the fingers of his right hand lightly tracing up from palm to shoulder. One of Jared's knees slips to press into the wall and Chad moans when he feels the press of thigh between his legs. He has no idea how they even made it down the hallway – it's a blur of movement, groans and more of those hard, wet kisses that have Chad so hard it's like he's never done this before. And maybe he hasn't – they haven't – not like this. Jared drags Chad's wife beater off, flinging it aside carelessly, and eager hands race along Chad's arms and chest and stomach, fumbling with Chad's shorts. When the backs of Chad's knees hit the edge of the bed, he falls in a careless heap, Jared crawling right on top of him, legs cradling his. He clutches the sheets when Jared starts to move down, licking along his collarbone, soft flicks over each nipple, hair fluttering over sensitized skin with each movement of Jared's head. Jared has to scoot completely off the bed to finish pulling off Chad's shorts, and Chad lifts his hips to help. Cool air caresses his skin, but it's nothing compared to the heat of Jared's gaze. Finally. "C'mere," Chad rasps. He pulls Jared back up onto skin-warm cotton sheets, and pushes him on his back before sliding to the floor and kneeling at the foot of the bed. He drags Jared's shorts down in one long tug before settling between strong thighs and leaning in, intent on making up for lost time. The soft pull on Chad's hair holds him in place. Chad can pretend a lot of things to the outside world, hell, to himself when it comes down to it, but he's never been any good at bullshitting Jared. And they both know it. So Chad sits on his haunches on the threadbare carpet and waits, listening to the lazy whine of the overhead fan, the harsh pant of Jared's breaths. Because he already knows the answer. He's always known. He meets Jared's gaze as Jared sits up, turning the tug into a caress, fingers sifting through Chad's hair to run over his forehead and cheeks to his lips. "Gotta fly back to Vancouver on Monday. Your timing sucks." Chad laughs, puffing warm air across Jared's skin. "No it doesn't." Here now... Jared simply nods and Chad buries his face in dark curls, the scent sharp with sweat and musk. He's missed this more than just about anything. He wraps his lips around the head of Jared's cock, tasting and sampling sleek flesh, and it's easy to settle into a rhythm, mouthing and tasting and taking Jared deep. "Like that..." Jared murmurs, and when Chad glances up, Jared's eyes are glitter-bright, his voice rough and low. Ab-so-fucking-lutely beautiful. He lowers his head again, lips tight, and it's nice and easy and perfect, like he'd never left, like they're 17 all over again, discovering this for the first time, discovering each other for the first time. Chad relearns everything – from the thick slide of Jared's cock deep down his throat, to the broken way Jared murmurs his name over and over like a mantra or a prayer, to the first bitter splash of come on his tongue when Jared finally clenches Chad's shoulders and shudders. Jared hauls him up for a slow, messy kiss and Chad plasters himself to Jared, bracing his knees on either side of Jared's hips, rubbing along acres of warm, sleek skin. "Think your Mom can set an extra place at the table?" Chad asks, crossing his arms on top of Jared's chest and glancing down. "You really are serious, aren't you?" Jared sounds far more shocked by that than Chad thinks he should be, considering what Chad had just been doing. "About starting over." Chad shakes his head and rolls his eyes. "J, man, I'm always serious, it's why I don't have any friends. I have no sense of humor." "Hell, that's not exactly news," and Jared's still laughing at his own dubious wit when Chad shoves him off the bed.
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