Under my skin

[Brayden Smith]

Oh, Jack, he was so persuasive. So persuasive, so irresistible. So hurt and so broken. How could Bray take advantage of him when he was like this? Only a few moments ago he was confessing to wanting to die and that just made him so vulnerable, so lost. How could anyone not want to protect him--even from himself and his own desires?

Sleeping together would ruin things. It would ruin all the credibility Bray built up over the course of so many days, that he was someone Jack could trust, could confide in, could be close to without feeling as though he needed to give Bray something in return. Bray did nothing with the expectation of reciprocity. He did this because he wanted to help, because he was good and he saw the good in Jack.

However, Bray was also human. (Sort of.) He was prey to the same vices and the same weaknesses and for a moment he did waver. He nodded. Yes, he felt it too, the heat between them, the sparks, the kindling flame. He felt it even as he watched Jack from afar, watched Jack watching him from afar. They watched each other across the courtyard, watched one another in the staff room, followed each other as they passed in the hallways.

It was impossible to miss that electric feeling between them, especially now. Especially after so many secrets were bared (but so much more left in Jack, Bray was sure). He felt the heat and the heartbeat under his fingertips, leaning into Jack and half-closing his eyes. Wanting this didn't make it right. Be patient, his mother said. Stay by his side.

"...I'll stay, Jack." He looked up, tipped his head up to kiss the corner of Jack's mouth tenderly. "But I won't have sex with you."

[Jack Ripley]

"You're such a little tease," he said, a hint of petulance in his voice. Brayden, the little cock tease. Well, not really, in retrospect. Brayden never actually did anything that would have indicated he wanted anything to do with him romantically. Sexually. There was only the chemistry, which very well could have been one-sided all along. And here Jack thought himself such a great reader of character. Maybe he was losing his edge.

It didn't have to mean anything that Brayden kissed him back. That could have been shock. Or maybe it didn't actually happen? It was possible. There were memories in Jack's bank that even today he couldn't tell whether they were true or not. Or if they were remnants of nightmares, pieces of dreams, thoughts that he had, things he wished were true. Things he desperately wished weren't true.

They could be so good together, he thought. Him and Brayden. But it was impossible, wasn't it? Brayden was way too good for him. Beyond too good for him. Look at him, right now. So virtuous, pushing him back--not physically--but placing distance between them. Maybe he could sense it in Jack, that he was no good for him. Or he could be smart and he was taking heed of past words from Jack himself.

He wasn't relationship material. Relationship detox. Smart, smart Brayden. So clever.

Still, how he could say that he would stay, kiss him ever so tenderly, and then say no sex. It didn't make sense right now. Were they not in a place for it? Half clothed as he was? Jack sighed and he took his hands away from Brayden in order to unbutton his own pants, to sidle out of them and stand before Brayden in only his underclothes.  He wagged a finger at Brayden.

"No, no. You're right... I was just," he said as he sifted through his pajama collection, "imagining how it could be. But reality rarely holds up to fantasy."

He pulled another silk set out. Silk was so... fine. Nobody could convince him it wasn't the best fabric for sleep. As he shrugged himself into a pajama top, he eyed Brayden. "You should borrow something. Take your pick. Although I'd love to see you in... oh... something like this."

He plucked at a pair of pajamas in a soft turquoise color.

"You should wear more color.... it brings out the brightness in your eyes. Mm?"

[Brayden Smith]

"I'm not..." Bray denied sadly, wishing with all his heart that he could give in to Jack's pleas and be with him. It was only one night, wasn't it? One taste of glory, of heaven, one chance at holding on to a blazing star? But that star was spinning out of control and Bray had already put himself into the position of stopping it. He had to stop the downward spiral that he saw Jack take. For better or worse, this was his role now and he had to resign himself to that fact.

It didn't make him feel any better, though, to see Jack's expression fall. To feel him pulling away physically and emotionally, turning away after removing his outer clothes to search out pajamas. They were good together. That was the problem. It was too good, too much at once. Bray knew he could plod along like an old, tired horse on the way to a funeral the way he progressed through relationships but being careful now was better than rushing headlong into things, he was sure. And he was plenty sure that Jack had had plenty of those fast-and-furious relationships in the past.

Bray didn't want to be another regret.

He stood watching Jack pulling out silk pajamas for himself, watching him put up those same barriers. Jack was imagining how good they could be together. Bray was too and his heart was sore and heavy. Jack was drunk, he had to remember that. He couldn't be blamed for the things he said or the things he thought in a moment like this. Bray was stopping him--stopping them both--from making a fatal mistake.

"Anything's fine," he said quietly, accepting the turquoise set from Jack. "Thank you. I'll keep that in mind." Bray took himself further away to change out of his clothes, laying his work clothes onto the back of a chair, neatly folded. He went back to pick up Jack's clothes too, and deposited them into the laundry hamper he saw the night before. Then he was back to help Jack into bed, slipping back into the same bed he was in the night before and drawing the covers up over them.

Bray didn't close his eyes, though. He watched Jack silently for a minute before tipping his head forward again, hoping to give Jack some form of reassurance that he wasn't slamming the door on them. Funny enough, Bray thought Jack wasn't particularly interested in him but... drunk Jack apparently thought otherwise. Maybe when the time was right--when Jack wasn't hurting so badly--they could... be truly good together.

Bray kissed him again, gently--but it held. It was a real kiss. "Good night, Jack. Sleep well."