InsaneJournal

Fic: Sobering Up--30stm J/S, mature/adult
title: Sobering Up
author: lisa roquin
rating: mature/adult
fandom: 30 Seconds to Mars
pairing/characters: Shannon/Jared
series/sequel: prequel to/ set about a month prior to Massage
disclaimer: lies, fiction, untrue. completely and totally made up. I know no one, know nothing of their personal lives. I make no claims of knowing much of anything.
summary: If Jared ever did anything like this again Shannon was just going to wring his fucking neck
warning: ~headdesk~ I have no idea. Maybe drunk/drugged impaired consent, incestuous sorta frottage? Masturbation. See pairing, rating, sequel. ~throws hands up in the air~
author notes: started for kynxpirations anon-meme prompt J/S wallsex, quickly obvious (500ish words in) it wasn't going to go there and let sit in favor of things with deadlines. Today, stuck stuck and stuck more when had writing time so asked for idea of something short to dislodge stuckness. kit wanted continuation of Massage among other things. Dug this back up to finish. All I can say is it's finished, unbeta'd but finished, and think I'm unstuck on the others.
word count: 4960





Shannon managed not to growl at Brent as he leaned in the car and grabbed Jared. It wasn't Brent's fault. Fuck knew Jared was capable of being a complete dumb ass all on his own. Especially with the weird melancholy that had been plaguing his little brother lately, nope, Shannon was hardly surprised by any of this and it definitely wasn't Brent's fault. Didn't stop the urge to growl and want to punch something anyway, and Brent was there.

"Got any fucking clue?" Shannon asked.

Brent shook his head worriedly. "I didn't think he drank that much and..."

And. Well yeah. And. Shannon could smell the weed on Jared, smoke leaving the scent clinging to his hair and clothes but...Jared hadn't been near hard drugs in years, he was even pretty damn good about booze anymore. He'd have a few and be relaxed and have a good time, but this totally fucking plowed barely able to stand hadn't happened in ages. And the few drinks to relax was pretty damned rare as well, not a good mix with the meds he was on for the gout, or for the gout period.

"You got him okay?"

Jared actually cooperated enough to get his feet out of the car. Shannon banged his head as he pulled back and hauled Jared out and up to his feet. Jared wrapped his arms around Shannon and buried his face in Shannon's neck. "Notfuckin'helpless" was slurred petulantly into Shannon's neck.

Shannon rolled his eyes skyward, pointedly ignoring the feel of Jared's lips against his skin. "Yeah, I've got him. Expect groveling for screwing up the evening whenever he's conscious tomorrow." Shannon forced the grin.

Brent looked at him worried. Yeah. He'd noticed Jared's strange lately too.

"I got him," Shannon assured Brent, not saying a damn thing more with the big eyed blond craning to stare from the passenger seat. "You have a good night."

Fucking dismissed. Brent seemed to realize it too. He didn't protest though. Shannon didn't expect him too. He steered Jared toward the house.

"Shoulda wen'wiff us tonight, Shan," Jared slurred nuzzling at Shannon's neck as Shannon tried to get him up the front steps.

"Yeah, fun times. Watching you get fucked up," Shannon snorted. Not why he'd stayed home, but...

"Uh huh, Sain' Shannon. Who passst out on the bafroom floor Tuesdee?" Jared snapped too much attention to his slurred words and not enough to his feet, he stumbled and nearly took them both headfirst into the front door.

"Less talking, more walking. You can't manage both at the same time right now."

"Can so," Jared shot back petulantly.

"Great not only are you fucking plowed, you're channelling your inner three year old."

"Nuh uh!"

Shannon snorted and fought the smile. "You are trashed."

"You're sad," Jared declared.

Shannon leaned Jared against the wall once they got inside so he actually had his hands free to lock the door and set the alarm.

Jared's barely focused eyes were locked on him, intent and searching and...

"So help me don't you start in blubbering," Shannon groaned recognizing the signs of a full blown overly-emotional depressed drunk gearing up.

Jared lunged away from the wall and into Shannon.

Shannon staggered back, arms grabbed Jared around the waist and barely managed to keep them both upright. "That's my ass," he managed, barely.

"It's a nice ass, you should have somebody appreciate it," Jared slurred into Shannon's neck as he squeezed his ass and kind of drooled upwards to press a kiss on Shannon's jaw.

Shannon went still as stone and swallowed hard. "Jared, what the hell did you take tonight?"

"I dunno," Jared mumbled. "Sumpfin was in th' weed, I think. Sumpfin'...pill..."

Shannon didn't quite manage to stifle the curse. Jared patted his ass. "So much for dumping you in bed and letting you sleep it off. C'mon, kitchen."

"Kishen?" Jared mouthed against Shannon's neck.

Shannon clenched his teeth. "Water, coffee. Flush whatever the hell out of your system a little faster maybe, caffiene to keep you awake long enough I know you're not going to fucking die or something on me?"

"Mmm. You needa shabe, yer all scratchedy." Jared rubbed his cheek against Shannon.

"Scratchedy," Shannon repeated disbelievingly.

"Mmmm hmmm, scatchsheddy," Jared said slurring the word a little more and nuzzling just below Shannon's ear.

Shannon tried to disentangle Jared, but Jared was having none of it. He swore to God his brother was part cat sometimes, especially when he'd smoked weed, either hissing and scratching or rubbing and demanding attention and affection.

"C'mon, help a little, brat," Shannon growled taking a step forward, forcing Jared to move. They made their way into the kitchen by way of some demented staggering that had to resemble a rather dirty slow dance the way Jared was plastered against him, death grip on Shannon's ass to keep his balance, not moving his face from Shannon's neck. Way way too much accidental grinding in the staggering shuffle.

"Stay!" Shannon grated out propping Jared's butt back against the counter and pulling his brother's hands off his ass.

"You're mad," Jared swallowed.

Shannon groaned. "I'm tired and what the fuck did you take?"

"Dunno," Jared whispered in a small voice, blue eyes huge and watery, pupils blown.

"Stay," Shannon repeated and got Jared a glass of water. "Drink, don't move. I'm gonna start coffee."

*

Shannon's mouth went dry as he turned back to Jared once the coffee was started. His intention of getting a cup and to hell with waiting for the pot to finish brewing was forgotten.

Jared's eyes were closed with his head tilted back a bit. The empty water glass was in one hand, the other hand...The other hand was pressed flat against his crotch, rubbing himself through his jeans.

A muffled sound from another bunk on the bus, ignoring that was no different than ignoring a muffled sound and squeak of the bed when they'd shared a room as kids. This...

The last time he'd accidentally caught Jared playing with himself, Jared had been barely fourteen and Shannon had walked into their bedroom, not even realizing Jared had gotten home from the library or―where ever he'd been going after school that day. Jared nearly had a heart attack and blushed so hard the color of his face almost scared Shannon. Jared had avoided him for over a week―quite a feat since they were living in a crackerbox of an apartment and sharing a room that was basically enough room for them and the bunk beds they'd had. He hadn't looked Shannon in the eye for well over a month and had been kinda odd for closer to two months.

Accidentally. Well, no. That was the only time for seeing Jared jacking off, even despite the few times they'd shared someone.

Jared whined and his hand moved up just a bit going for the button of his jeans--

“JARED!”

Jared opened his eyes and his head snapped to look toward Shannon―too quickly. The movement caused Jared to lose the precarious balance he had with the aid of the counter he was leaning against. Jared didn't just turn his head, he turned, and stumbled.

Shannon managed to make the four steps to Jared quick enough to keep his brother upright. The glass was dropped―right on the fucking top of his bare foot. At least the damned thing didn't break but FUCK that hurt.

“You're mad?” Blue eyes just fucking blown and watery, Jared's voice wavery and upset and one wrong word from blubbering again.

“No,” Shannon managed.

“S'yourfault,” Jared accused.

“What?” Shannon squeaked.

“S'yourfualt. Almos' wen' away. Then you hadta rub on me.”

“Jared, what the hell did you take?”

Jared shook his head. “Dunno. You're mad at me.”

“I'll be mad tomorrow. Not now I'm not,” Shannon said honestly. He wasn't mad, he was starting to get worried as fucking hell. His hand went to Jared's neck, trying to feel for his pulse. “Stop be still a minute” he ordered when Jared nuzzled at his hand. Steady, definitely a bit fast but not too drastically so and steady. Fuck. What the fuck had Jared taken?

“You have a fucking heart attack on me and I will hate you forever you got that?” he snapped, fear coiling in his stomach. Chapter 27 had taken one hell of a toll on Jared. The shit about the gout got out, and how he'd get so breathless and miserable he'd ride in a freaking wheelchair to the the set and back. But not about the chest pains that went with the breathless. Shannon wasn't sure that Jared had even told the fucking doctors he'd ended up at for the gout about the chest pains. Hell, he only knew about it because he caught Jared chalky and hand to his chest breath labored and short after he'd been trying to exercise when he was working at taking off the weight from the film. He wouldn't put it past his brother to lie like a fucking rug about the fact he really was okay, just over did.

Shannon hated that fucking film and the toll it took on his brother with a passion. That hatred that reflexively boiled up at the thought of anything to do with Chapter 27 and the cost to Jared's health must have been on his face for a second because Jared looked like he was going to bawl, tears welling up but thank god not spilling over.

“Don' hate me. Die if you hate me,” Jared pled desperately in the kind of serious loud whisper only very small children and completely trashed drunks could pull off.

“I don't hate you, and I won't, don't have a heart attack on me and I won't hate you. Okay?” Shannon soothed. Full blown depressed, blubbery drunk...fuck no, please no. He could not deal with that. Even if there had been only a handful of times Jared had gotten like that and a good six or seven years since the last time, Shannon absolutely hated it.

“Okay,” Jared said in a really small voice.

“Okay,” Shannon soothed and petted Jared's cheek. “Okay. C'mon, back against the counter so you don't fall. More water, huh? Get this flushed out of your system.” As much as was possible. Coffee wouldn't be so hot, Shannon didn't think it was technically on the diet Jared was mostly sticking too for the lingering bullshit of Chapter 27. Awake until Shannon was sure it was okay for Jared to sleep was good though, good enough in Shannon's opinion to maybe break caffeine rules for Jared. He had no idea, he wasn't a fucking doctor and Jared was a closed mouthed fucker when it came to stuff like that. But Jared was just beyond fucked up enough and obviously not just booze that Shannon thought awake for a while to be safe was better. Anything was better than nothing. And Jared always drank ridiculous amounts of water, because of the gout, especially if he'd been drinking recently to try to counter or head off another attack of it.

Jared―

“That's my ass,” Shannon managed as he tried to shift his brother to lean back against the counter.

“Uh huh,” Jared sniffed. “S'a nice ass...s'why yer sad ain' it?”

“My ass is why I'm sad?” Shannon asked disbelievingly and pushed Jared against the counter steadying him a moment before he tried to move back away.

“S'a nice ass an' you don' got no one t'presheeyate id.” Jared explained around a massive yawn. “An' I'm bad cause I don' wan' you t'haf someone cause you'll go'way.”

Shannon stared at his brother a moment. He was pretty sure Jared hadn't said 'don' got no' anything since he was six no matter how trashed he'd ever gotten. And since when had Jared's interest in his love life been more than a smart ass comment about whether or not Shannon had gotten laid? “Jesus fucking Christ. Where's your phone?”

Jared blinked at him. All owl-eyed and confused, as if he didn't even know what a phone was.

That was almost enough to cause Shannon panic. He had never seen Jared fucked up enough to not be able to answer where his phone was since he'd had a goddamned cellphone, let alone the blackberry that he only let off his person for things like showering or more rarely soak in the hot tub or a swim, and then that was the first thing he went for when he was dry enough to touch it without damaging it.

Shannon began frisking him.

“Whaddaya doin?” Jared asked confused.

Shannon slid his hand into Jared's back pocket and grabbed his phone.

“That's MINE!”

“Yeah, you'll thank me in the morning,” Shannon muttered and carefully moved away from Jared, making sure his brother wasn't going to fall on his face. The phone was put on top of the fridge before Jared had the idea he needed to call or text anyone.

“For stealin' m'stuff?”

“Yeah. Trust me.”

Jared looked at him doubtfully. “I trus' you.”

“You'll get it back in the morning. Just don't want to break it. You'll lose all your numbers and everything.”

Jared nodded solemnly, and nearly tipped himself over in the process. Shannon barely caught him in time and stood him back up straight.

“C'n I sit?”

“No.”

“Why not?” Jared whined.

“Because you're too damned good at falling asleep in a chair. You need to stay awake a little while okay? For me?”

Jared nodded and fell forward into Shannon, hands somehow unerringly landing on his ass again. His pupils were too fucking blown, the tears and rubbing himself―Jared really was that trashed. Jared didn't do that shit, ever, in front of anyone. He only got like that in front Shannon when Jared honest to god was that completely trashed―at least as far as the teary-eyed edge of blubbering. What was he thinking? Jared would never purposely repeatedly grab―and fondle―his ass like that sober.

“C'mon stand up, lean back against the counter and let me get you some more water.”

“Don' want water. Fuckin' hurts.”

“You need water, and some coffee―but what hurts? Your chest doesn't hurt, does it?” Shannon's own chest tightened with pure terror. He could hear the pain in Jared's voice and his brother was the most stubborn-fuck idiot sometimes, he'd never let on he was actually hurting until he absolutely couldn't stand it or was somehow caught. How chalky and wrong Jared had looked the time Shan surprised him and he hadn't been able to hide it in time right after the shooting for Chapter 27 was over wouldn't stop flashing in his mind.

Jared whined and stumbled a little more against Shannon, moving his feet and nearly knocking Shannon's feet from under him. Jared's thigh wedged between his and his fingers dug into Shannon's ass, hauling him up tight against Jared. “Dick hurts been hard so fuckin' long.” Jared somehow managed to grind against him, burying his face in Shannon's neck again.

Oh. Jesus. Fucking. Christ.

“Yer hard too.”

You keep playing with my ass and trying to rub all over me, Shannon bit his tongue. He wasn't saying that. He wasn't acknowledging that he even thought that. No. Never.

Oh. God...

“Jared, what did you take?” Shannon asked, it finally dawning on him Jared was really too fucked up to be hard without having taken something. Jared was fucking thirty-seven not seventeen and barely fucking standing or making the remotest bit of sense. Way too drunk. Fuck. He'd been to damn busy trying to ignore that fact and his own fucked up reactions to even think―goddamn.

“Dunno.”

Tabloid headlines of Jared being admitted to the ER because of fucking priapism flashed through his head. And―that shit could fuck with your heart too...

“Goddamn, fuck, Jared,” Shannon groaned.

“You're mad,” Jared sniffled.

“No, no, baby, not mad, not mad. Not tonight.” Tomorrow―yeah. Oh hell yeah, tomorrow he'd be fucking furious and let Jared have it. Now he was too fucking scared to be mad. Jesus. Drunk he could be mad at, this no. And he was going to strangle Jared if he ever did this again.

“Promise?” Jared asked and humped against Shannon's leg with a whimper that had Shannon stumbling back.

“Promise. C'mon against the counter before you manage to injure both of us,” Shannon groaned.

“Never hurt you. Never!”

“I know,” Shannon managed and shoved Jared back against the counter. Jared pulling him close, not a breath of air between them, nuzzling at Shannon's neck.

“Never hurt you. Love you.”

“I know. I know,” Shannon soothed and slid his hand over Jared's hair to his neck, finding his brother's pulse again. Still fast, maybe faster than it should be but not scarily so if it was too fast. Shannon couldn't exactly say if it was too fast or not, so that had to be close enough to normal that it wasn't seriously bad―he hoped―and thank god steady. Steady was good. “I know, love you too, Jay.” Shannon whispered.

He swallowed as Jared clumsily ground against him, hand squeezing at his ass. Jared's other hand slid up―and straight down the back of the sweats Shannon was wearing onto bare skin.

“Jared!”

Jared whined and tried to hump Shannon's leg. “Hurts―”

“Just your dick? Your heart or anything else hurting too?”

“No.”

“No what?” Shannon managed to ask. Jared's hand―the one in his sweats―squeezed his ass. Reaction to Shannon trying to shift his weight and get Jared not quite so plastered against him, but goddamn.

“Jus' m' dick,” Jared mouthed against Shannon's neck.

That―well that was good...but oh fuck...

“Think you can come?” Shannon managed to ask and reached to pull Jared's hand out of the back of his sweats. If Jared ever did anything like this again Shannon was just going to wring his fucking neck.

Jared whined and half tried to hump against Shannon's leg again.

He needed to breathe. Jesus. Jared was gonna give him a heart attack. “Coffee,” he blurted and steadied back against the counter.

He nearly killed himself tripping on the glass still on the floor. He picked it up, rinsed it and filled it again with water.

“C'mon drink a bit more,” Shannon held the glass toward Jared. Jared managed to reach for the glass with only a half stagger sideways.

“You just drunk dizzy or feel-wrong dizzy?” Shannon asked, without any real hope of Jared being able to tell the difference.

Jared didn't answer, his concentration on drinking the water, eyes wide and almost fearful. Shannon knew that look. He might not have seen it for years, but it hadn't changed even if Jared had gotten better about hiding it when he wasn't blubbery-depressed drunk. The look hadn't changed a bit since the fucking broken firetruck. Jared had been maybe five or six and shaking terrified Shannon was going to hate him. Shannon had yelled until Jared broke down crying, which had been in about five seconds flat. Christ he hated the fucking broken firetruck look and was glad Jared was too stubborn and proud to use that look against him even if he was a manipulative ass when he wanted to be, he didn't manipulate Shannon. Not usually. And when he did, it was so blatantly see-through that if Shannon went along was more playing the game. Going through the familiar paces of―whatever fucked up dance it was. As if Jared needed an excuse to hug, pay extra attention to or buy something for Shannon, even if it came in the appearance of a bribe for whatever it wasn't and they both knew that.

He had no idea when exactly they'd fallen into that weird sort of dance-around-affection habit of Jared's pretend manipulations or fake bribes but they had. Somewhere around the time Jared was on My So Called Life? Which was maybe the last time Shannon had seen the 'broken firetruck look' and definitely the only time they'd ever said a word aloud about the strange bribe/manipulation dance they did. They'd both been about half drunk―just enough to talk and be able to ignore and never admit to the conversation but not so drunk they'd forget it when Shannon called him on the out of control attempts at manipulating. Jared had been scared Shannon would―get pissed or get tired of whatever and leave...stupid shit.

Didn't matter now, didn't matter at all, just another layer of fucked up was all. Jared was giving him the fucking broken firetruck look, eyes tear bright and fucking hell.

“Yer sad―”

“Shh no. How the fuck can you think that?”

Jared just shook his head, and nearly fell face forward swiping at a his eyes.

Shannon cursed under his breath and moved back into arms reach of Jared to keep him upright.

“C'mon, shh. Shh.”

“Hurts,” Jared complained his face back in Shannon's neck.

Shannon hoped to god his brother just meant his dick and not like heart attack chest pains. “Not your chest?”

“No.”

“Good, you tell me if your chest starts hurting. I'll be mad if you don't.”

“Don' want you mad.”

“Shh, I'm not mad. You tell me if your chest starts hurting and I won't be mad at all.”

Jesus fuck He doubted Jared could manage to so unerringly grab his ass sober. Not that Jared would grab his ass sober. He refused to even imagine it was anything but very much deserved karmic torture that Jared was managing it now.

“C'mon, see―” His mind skittered the hell away from what he was trying to suggest as he moved Jared's hand from his ass. His mind refused to go anywhere near where his hand actually was as he pressed his hand down over Jared's―on Jared's―the front of Jared's jeans. “See if you can―“ Oh goddamn he couldn't quite believe this. “See if you can come,” he swallowed.

He fought to blank his mind, think of anything else. Worlds of wrong even if only in his head, especially in his own head. Jared was―was fucked up. And yeah, dealing with the effects of what he'd taken in this case, necessary and dear god, the tabloid headlines and what the gossip blogs could do with an emergency room trip for something like this stupidity―oh holy fuck that didn't really bear thinking of.

He couldn't imagine that anymore than he could allow his brain to go anywhere near the fact Jared needed help getting his jeans undone. Or the fact that Jared mostly needed help because he was attempting to undo his jeans one handed barely knowing his own name and his other hand with a fucking death grip on Shannon's ass for balance.

He was just glad Jared managed without―assistance for anything but staying upright once his jeans were undone. And that it, well, worked rather than possibly a trip to an ER for that, with Jared in the shape he was in.

Jared's face buried in his neck, his mouth moving against skin, and the fact the sounds he made were made right by Shannon's ear was ignored as completely as humanly possible.

Jared wanted to crash. Shannon wouldn't let him. He ordered several more glasses of water down Jared who didn't really protest. He whined a little that he didn't want more water but obediently drank it anyway. He allowed Shannon to steer him around the kitchen until dawn and Shannon was certain it was safe enough to let Jared finally pass out, that his pulse felt normal enough and whatever the fuck he'd all taken wasn't going to kill him, because surely he'd have had the reaction if he was going to have one by the time Shannon struggled to half drag Jared upstairs to his bedroom and let him collapse on the bed, out almost immediately.

He watched Jared sleep a couple hours, just to be sure. He'd had nightmares about how Jared had looked, pained and chalky and short of breath clutching his chest for three years now, and obviously taking something that could affect his heart? Yeah, once it'd sunk in that for some godforsaken reason he had, knowingly or not, Shannon hadn't gotten that nightmare of a memory out of his head.

*

Shannon awoke at the clatter of a coffee cup dropped on the counter and Jared cursing in a piss-poor attempt at being quiet.

“Still alive I see,” Shannon muttered and sat up with a wince from where he'd fallen asleep head on the kitchen table about noon, in no shape to dare going to bed and having the sounds Jared had made right in his fucking ear invade his dreams.

“Fuck you...” Jared mumbled and poured himself a cup of coffee. “Fuckin' cold.”

“You'd prefer burnt if I left the pot on all night?” Shannon shot back.

“Asshole.”

“Uh huh. I'm the asshole. You come home in the shape you were in last night again I will wring your fucking neck. That wasn't just a few too many beers or shots or something.”

“Oh fuck you―lying asshole.”

“WHAT?”

“You bother looking at your neck in a mirror yet today? You could have said you had plans last night instead of the bullshit about staying home.”

Shannon gaped as Jared's words sunk in. “I was home in time for Brent to drop you off worried as hell and you to be totally fucking gone, weepy and your heart fucking racing” and―yeah he was going to leave it there. He was not bringing up the rest, that would get to possibly who was responsible for any mark he had on his neck today and no. Just no fucking way.

Jared glared defiantly. The hangover was making him bitchy and snippy as all hell, they always did.

“Jared―you let me take your fucking blackberry. You didn't even know what it was other than to protest it was yours like a bawly three year old! You ever fucking scare me like that again I will WRING YOUR FUCKING NECK! Want to sit on the couch and get drunk til you pass out, fine. That wasn't fucking booze last night. At least not just and you couldn't answer SHIT! If your pulse had gotten any faster or less steady or you'd gotten any―more out of it I would've been hauling your ass to the ER or calling 911 or something!”

Shannon almost relented. The stricken look on Jared's face was so damn close to the 'broken firetruck' look. Not quite, but close.

“YOU SCARED THE FUCK OUTTA ME!” he finally shouted, loud enough to make Jared cringe back and squint his eyes shut.

“Sorry,” Jared whispered shakily. No, no 'not quite' about it―that was the fucking broken firetruck look, and Shannon hadn't seen that expression on Jared sober since the firetruck the look was named for had been fucking broken.

“You scared the fuck out of me.” Shannon repeated quietly.

“Sorry.”

“Yeah. I know. Your phone's on top of the fridge. You owe Brent a call and an apology for having to be hauled home and couldn't even get out of the fucking car on your own. I'm going to bed. Enjoy your hangover.”

He headed up to his room before Jared could say anything. Jared was alive, going to live, and founded or not his brother had scared the living fuck out of him. His exit was more hobbling than anything, his foot half asleep and his back fucking killing him from falling asleep slumped over the kitchen table.

He did look in the mirror before he fell into bed. A few streaky light reddened marks, a good case of light scratches, very obviously beard burn from Jared's stubble, a row of dark indents―where Jared's teeth had pressed to hard against his skin when he came. Shannon fell into bed praying he didn't dream.