miracle (miracle) wrote in luke_noah, @ 2008-10-05 00:12:00 |
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Original poster: fizzerbass
Title: Tomorrow
Author: Fizzerbass
Pairing: Jake/Van
Rating: PG-13
Notes: Yeah, don't ask me what this is. I wanted some schmoop...but I'm not sure this qualifies.
Disclaimer: Jake and Van only belong to themselves. This is a product of my comfort-craving imagination and no harm is intended. Definitely no money made. Probably some mistakes, though, as this is unbetaed.
Flip. Flip. Flip.
The room is almost-evening dim, the only light coming in Technicolor kaleidoscope courtesy of whatever is playing on TV. Jake has no clue what’s on and doesn’t care; he stopped watching after the end of Armageddon and only kept it on for background noise.
Flip. Flip. Flip.
Too bad it couldn’t provide front-ground noise too. Anything to occupy his mind and get it off the one-track refrain train he’s been riding on all afternoon. Who are you trying to kid? You can’t act, you can’t emote, you can barely even walk on to a set and find your mark without a map and day-glo orange stickers on the floor. Why don’t you just get a real job? Something important.
The gremlins had been eating hard at his brain for the last two hours and he’s just about to unfurl the white flag of defeat and let the waves of depression pull him under. He feels broken, bruised. Kind of like he’s gone ten rounds with the heavyweight cham-pee-un of the world and gotten knocked on his ass in each and every one.
Flip. Flip. Flip.
He thought looking at pictures of him and Van on-set would cheer him up, but so far it’s done nothing but discourage him even more. God, is my nose really that big? The freaking thing takes up half the frame! And look at my teeth. I look like a flipping vampire…maybe I should mention it to Wardrobe, they can save a bundle on my costume for Halloween. Who am I kidding? They probably already know.
He’s so engrossed in his inner demolition derby he doesn’t even hear the front door opening and squeaking shut on the hinge he never remembers to oil. It’s not until the harsh light of the ceiling fixture explodes in his eyes that he realizes someone is in the apartment with him. Blinking hard against the sudden glare, he drops the pictures and covers his eyes.
“Oh, shit, my eyes! Turn the light off!”
“Sorry, sorry, I didn’t know.” Van scrambles to hit the switch and stumbles through the living room to turn on the light in the kitchen instead. Turning back to Jake, he takes in the piles of pictures, the empty bag of Doritos, a melting pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream, and more than one empty beer bottle. He sighs as he drops the mail on the table.
“Jake. You watched Armageddon today, didn’t you?”
Jake can’t look him in the eye, can’t let him see the insecurity and desperation lurking there. He bites his lip and turns his head, praying the darkness will hide the tears stinging his eyes.
“Babe, why do you do this to yourself? You know that movie always depresses you to death.” Van crosses the room, tapping Jake on the shoulder to make him move so Van can slip behind him on the couch. Settling the sad man into the vee of his legs, he wraps his arms tightly around Jake’s shoulders and rest his chin atop his head, slowly moving it side to side like a metronome sending out a soothing beat. “Which is it this time? You’re a worthless son or you can’t act?”
Jake stiffens for a moment and then burrows into Van’s chest. “I can’t act.”
“Mmm, yeah, then the pictures make sense.” Van lazily strokes his hands up and down Jake’s body, one on his back, the other on his arm, and Jake wonders how he can make his chin go one direction while his hands go in another. He knows for sure he wouldn’t be able to do that if he tried. Just one more thing for the fail column.
“Your nose too big, too?”
Jake doesn’t answer, just rubs the appendage in question along Van’s shirt as he nods his head.
“Pointy teeth?”
Another nod.
“Hair doing that wild ass thing?”
Jake pushes off Van, his eyes almost comically wide. “What wild ass thing? What’s wrong with my hair?”
Van chuckles softly and pulls Jake back to his chest, encircling the man firmly in his arms. “Nothing’s wrong with your hair, I’m just teasing you.” A kiss to the crown for emphasis. “I love your hair…the way it waves and curls around your ears when you let it grow long enough.”
Van resumes his rhythmic stroking and Jake feels himself start to relax, both his tense muscles and tired mind molding into something smoother from the warmth of Van’s touch. He’s almost asleep when he feels Van’s voice rumbling beneath his ear.
“You’re a great actor, Jake.”
Jake watches his hand resting on Van’s chest rise and fall. Up. Down. Up. Down.
Van continues softly. “Best gay-man-pretending-to-be-a-straight-acto
Jake swallows, feeling an apology forming on his lips before he even knows what he’s sorry for. He shifts his head back to speak, but Van’s index finger against his lips keeps him mute.
“No. Don’t say anything. When you’re ready…when the time is right, you’ll know.”
Jake gently pulls Van’s hand away from his mouth and curls their fingers together against his own lips. Maybe if he whispers through the gaps, Van won’t hear his fear. “And in the mean time?”
“What mean time?”
“Now. Today. Tomorrow.” He winces slightly at the pressure in his chest. “What do I do with my life in the mean time?”
Van pushes Jake up and rearranges them so now they’re facing each other as they lay on the couch. Jake feels naked and vulnerable, his true self nothing more than a newborn baby, ill-equipped, without defenses and walls to hide behind. He tries to burrow into Van’s neck but strong hands on his shoulders keep him in place.
“Now? Today?” Van raises Jake’s chin with a crooked finger so they’re eye to eye. “You love me. You make me whole. You complete me in ways I didn’t even know I was unfinished.” He leans in and places the softest of kisses upon Jake’s lips.
“Tomorrow?” Van smiles, a slow smile that makes Jake’s heart trip over itself and beat hard in his chest. “I love you right back.”