Pick your poison

[Jack Ripley]

Ah. It was easy to read into Brayden's feelings of jealousy because Jack experienced it before, with a previous boyfriend. Keith Hargrove, with his insecurities and low self esteem.... He didn't like Jack looking at other people to the point of becoming violent. It was so odd because when they met, dear Keith was a sweetheart like any other. And Jack ruined him, of course. Like he ruined everyone.

Brayden wasn't Keith, though. He seemed to be in deep thought--not unusual for Brayden--before he spoke. And Jack listened with a slightly tilted head and his gaze fixed on Brayden, taking in his every blink, every turn of his gaze, every moment when he stopped to try and word what he felt as accurately as possible. And Jack could feel it. Again, the feelings were practically palpable.

Swallowing hard, Jack lowered his gaze to that precious hand and those precious fingers. And he struggled with himself, with whether or not to say something or not to say something. Because Brayden, not unlike most people, had a very defined vision of Jack--in part due to Jack.

"I'm not," he said, flicking his gaze up without lifting his head, "disappointed by you. What did you think when you met me? The first time? First impressions?"

[Brayden Smith]

Bray watched Jack every bit as intently as Jack regarded him, and the two of them just... had their lines crossed a little. It was difficult to have this sort of conversation in private, much less out in a cute little bird and bee themed cafe. As much as Bray wanted the date to go well, some things had to be addressed. And they weren't causing a scene or embarrassing themselves; they were talking quietly while trying to work out the more delicately tangled knots in their personal expectations.

It all had to do with their respective experiences with relationships. Bray's were mostly a string of disappointment—of being disappointing. He was the one at fault, told that he was boring, that he didn't have it—whatever it was, that kept a partner interested. There were expectations that he failed to meet which hurt him deeply, on a very personal level, and his failings stayed with him long after the person had packed up their things and left. Little by little, Bray's confidence wore down and became as threadbare as his furniture at home.

And Jack? What did Bray think of Jack when he first met him? He stopped to think again. "I thought you were beautiful. There was a glow about you that I'd never seen in anyone else." His own gaze became faraway as he thought back to that first time he set eyes on Jack. It was his first day at the school and Bray went over to his office to give him some documents and paperwork to sign (of course, as was his job). He walked into Jack's office after knocking very timidly, and was told in an almost imperious voice to come in.

The door opened and Jack was standing there by his desk conversing with Jett, the department head. Bray remembered stopping short and stammering something about being sorry that he had intruded, and Jack... smiled at him. Warmly. And he looked not through Bray, but at him, like he actually saw him as a person. Like he thought Bray might be someone worth noticing.

"You saw me, and not a bunch of paperwork."

[Jack Ripley]

"...okay."

Jack let out a little laugh and brushed the back of his own neck. That wasn't what he expected to hear, actually. He expected to hear what he always heard--that he was kind of a snob. Judgmental. Looked like he came from money. That sort of thing. He had no idea why he thought Brayden would see him the same way as other people... But he sure seemed to see himself in a low light.

"That's true," he said, pointing briefly at Brayden. "I did see you."

And he definitely didn't see the paperwork. At least, not until it was brought to his attention. Being his first day there, he knew it was coming. He just didn't know it was coming in the form of somebody so cute.

"But here's what you were supposed to say." Jack sat back and lifted his head like an arrogant rich kid. "You were supposed to say I looked like I thought I was too good for everybody around me. That I was the big time Harvard grad with all the fancy clothes and that I came from some big shot family that probably invented something stupid but practical that people use everyday, like scotch tape."

He crossed his arms over the table and leaned forward.

"But I'm not. I only got into Harvard on a scholarship. My family..." He made a scoffing sound and rolled his eyes away, looking out at the cute cafe. "...isn't even a family. My mother tried to abort me and failed and she's never forgiven me for being born. And my father? Skipped town on both of us but hard to miss a man that uses his fists to show his affection."

He looked back at Brayden, hoping to hell and heaven both that he wasn't looking at him with great pity in his eyes. Jack hated pity and that wasn't why he was telling all this to Brayden. He wanted him to understand that Jack wasn't some lofty rich brat--he wasn't some far off star--that was beyond Brayden's touch. That, honestly, he wasn't anything special beyond what he portrayed himself as.

"I'm not anything special, Brayden. So you don't have to... impress me." He slid his fingers through his tie. "All this is my armor. That's all it is."

[Brayden Smith]

Was he... abashed? Bray watched Jack rub the back of his neck with a little half-smile of bemusement. Jack was beautiful in every way, there was never any doubt of that. His beauty was the first thing Bray saw, not only the physical attractiveness—though that was incredibly difficult to ignore—but also the warmth and the kindness in his smile and eyes. He saw real beauty and true beauty, in other words. Maybe he was lucky to have caught Jack at that moment and maybe others had different impressions, but that was what Bray saw.

What Bray didn't see was everything Jack described about himself. His expensive clothes and Harvard degree made him someone to be looked up to and admired. Surely no one would think that he was haughty and stuck-up, or that he thought himself above them. That was more of a reflection of the other person and their own insecurity and sense of inferiority than it said anything about who Jack was. Jack was Jack; he couldn't control how others perceived him.

What followed, though, Bray had gathered from disjointed drunk conversations he had with Jack. The mother who didn't love him; the father who beat him. He didn't know Jack's mother tried to abort him, though. There was more shock and dawning horror than pity in his eyes, at the thought that anyone could even attempt to do that. Why? How could someone try to snuff out a life? And—had she succeeded... Jack wouldn't be here. He wouldn't be sitting across from Bray confessing to being nothing, hiding behind glamor and glitz, and how could the world ever be the same without Jack in it?

Bray reached for his hand slowly, and he held it tight. "How can you say that you're not special?" Even from such humble—to put it lightly—beginnings, Jack made something of himself. He rose above the squalor of his childhood and made something of himself. "You-you made something out of nothing, Jack. That's... that's real magic. You're incredible."

Didn't Jack see that? Didn't he know how impressive he was, to have gotten himself into Harvard on that scholarship? (Harvard! Not Hazleton Community College but Harvard!) That he overcame his mother and father's abuse to become someone who could stand tall and not only believe in his own worth but assert it when the world tried to batter him down and convince him that he was worth nothing? Everything Jack had, Bray was willing to bet he earned. Nothing was assumed, nothing was given without struggle.

But Bray also understood where he was coming from. That maybe he didn't want to be put on that pedestal and treated like he was God. Jack wanted what Bray wanted—to be held, loved, to be seen as himself and not as the glamorous untouchable man-about-town his fancy clothes and expensive tastes made him out to be. He wanted a place where he didn't have to be that man, and... he chose Bray. He chose Brayden when he could have had his pick of all the single, eligible bachelors about town.

"...I understand," Bray said quietly. "I see you, too, Jack. And I'll try not to—"

"Careful! These plates are hot!" Luka came swinging by with their orders and plonked them down in front of each of them, forcing Bray to let go of Jack's hand over the table. "And. Don't take this the wrong way or anything, but." He leaned down closer to whisper, "You guys are soooo adorable! The way you look at each other is literally relationship goals." Then with another too-bright grin he was gone.

Bray stared after him for a few seconds and then looked down at his plate. Luka had made a smiley face in his avocado toast... with pepper flakes.

[Jack Ripley]

How could he say he wasn't special, Brayden asked. Because he wasn't. Even if he dug himself out of the shit pile that was his life, he hadn't made a better man of himself following that. Because there was still blood on his hands. The first time was an accident. The first time filled him with the most horror. He thought Brayden could forgive him that one. Anybody could forgive an accident. The five after him? Not so much.

"You..." Don't. He didn't see him.

Jack looked down at the food that had been placed in front of them, reflecting on how Brayden saw him. But he still didn't have the entire story. In his eyes, it seemed, Jack had just made himself look even better. That wasn't his intention. His intention was to show Brayden he was just any normal person. He had been born like everybody else. (Did fairies get born?) He had been raised--dubiously, but raised nonetheless. And he grew up, and he had a say in what he appeared to be in front of others.

And he liked that. He liked how people looked at him. But... strangely... he wanted Brayden to look at him and see the real him... and still love him. Instead, he was struggling internally with that need and the need to protect himself. The more he told Brayden, the more the curtain was pulled back, the more he thought Brayden was going to hate him. He would learn, one day, to hate him.

Jack smiled, though, if somewhat sadly. He didn't know how to make Brayden understand who he was, to love who he was... without breaking his heart in the process. Should he have disappointed Brayden when he had the chance? When he could have walked out on him? It would have hurt--both of them. But in the end, Brayden would be a lot less hurt.

This was their first date, damn it. He was going to enjoy it.

"Hm," he said as he noticed the smiley face on Brayden's toast. His smile was mischievous, as if he hadn't just bared a part of his soul before Brayden. "Seems like I should be the jealous one... I think somebody likes you~"

Hey, he heard they were relationship goals--but that didn't mean that Jack couldn't tease Brayden a little.

[Brayden Smith]

Well, they all said love was blind but not having all the pieces of the puzzle also made it impossible for Bray to see anything other than resilience when he looked at Jack. He admired Jack greatly and he trusted him. He loved Jack as Jack and he should have realized the harm in idolizing him too much. Being so anxious to impress him, Bray only pushed him further out of reach instead of drawing him closer down to earth, where Bray's outstretched fingers could reach him and hold on to him.

Why did Jack smile like that, though? Bray reached out to squeeze his hand again but the plates on the table made contact difficult. He looked down at Jack's delicious meal with all of those colorful vegetables and the perfectly poached eggs with a sprinkle of pepper and salt. Then he looked at his pieces of avocado toast with the childishly cartoony smiley faces on them.

They could have this conversation later, maybe, when they weren't within earshot of a strangely upbeat waiter.

That sad smile was replaced with a more familiar impish one and Bray shook his head. He delicately swirled the pepper flakes around the top of his toast until they stopped grinning up at him. "I think he thinks I'm five..." Bray remembered how the lady at the diner used to arrange his eggs and bacon into a smiley face too. She would pat him on the head and give him free glasses of chocolate milk.

He laughed, though, in exasperation and reached for his napkin. Jack was teasing him, he knew that. Under the table Bray lightly rubbed his ankle against Jack's calf—a safe, but still flirty, move. He shook out the napkin with the intention of laying it in his lap and paused. Then delicately folded it and wedged it under his plate, where the phone number written on it couldn't be seen.

Bray caught another beaming smile from across the room and hastened to stuff some toast into his mouth. "It's really good. Here, try some." He turned his plate towards Jack. "How's yours?"

[Jack Ripley]

"Hm." His thoughtful sound, as he watched Brayden destroy the cute little smiley face. "Maybe you're right. After all, it wasn't winking at you."

And he winked at Brayden for full effect. And maybe also a little bit because if the cute guy behind the counter got a wink, then Brayden should definitely get one. His smile was secretive as he looked across the table at him, feeling the ankle against his calf. Oh yes, he felt it. And he liked the playful side of Brayden, the one he normally only saw when they were alone during their scheduled game nights and sometimes in brief spurts at work. He got snatches of it at lunch, maybe, or a smile in the halls.

Now they were dating, he thought--hoped--he'd see a lot more of that.

This was easier. It was always easier to focus on the present, not to worry about the future, not to fly off the handle about the past. The only part of his life he had any control over was this moment, the moment he was living in. Beating himself mercilessly over past accidents and mistakes wasn't going to help this moment. And fretting over what may or may not come in the future also wasn't going to help this moment. He couldn't control what happened next. And he had already done what he did in the past.

All he could do... was keep holding onto the idea of the black hole that reformed itself into a star. He'd looked it up on his phone. It was a thing. It wasn't just his imagination, bad memory, or wishful thinking. It was a real theory. And that, somehow, was a balm for his sore and scared heart.

"It looks so dry," Jack said. The avocado might help but... toast was toast. He'd try it in a minute, if only to humor Brayden. As for his meal, though, he heaped some of it onto his fork and held it out toward Brayden. "Try, try! You're going to regret your dry toast."

[Brayden Smith]

It definitely wasn't winking at him... and now it was destroyed so it never happened. Bray laughed into his fist at Jack's wink, though. It was sweet. Cute. Like he thought Bray needed to be reminded what a wink looked like. The playful atmosphere which returned to them as easily as the somber moods overcame them helped Bray to relax slightly.

"It's not dry! He buttered it." Or there was some type of mayo, perhaps, which helped it to avoid being completely dry. Not to mention, the avocado was creamy and delicious and fresh. Bray reached for the fork at first—politely out of habit—and then threw caution to the winds and leaned forward. He used the hand to steady the fork—and also took the opportunity to hold Jack's hand—while he ate off of it. "Mm. Good." Oops! A bit of egg had smeared onto the side of his mouth. With his own napkin out of commission, he took Jack's.

Then he folded that one and wedged it under his plate too, on top of the first one with the phone number on it.

Bray wiped off the bit of egg with his thumb. None of that nonsense, not right now. 

[Jack Ripley]

"Did he now? Did he butter your biscuit?" He knew it was an awful joke and his shit-eating grin said it all. And he almost sighed, expecting Brayden to go for the fork handle rather than just--well nope, he was actually going for it. Jack continued to grin as Brayden ate directly from his fork, like a boyfriend would. And then stole his napkin. Jack raised his brows.

"Is there a reason you're hoarding all the napkins under your plate?" Jack asked, because the first one had been chalked up to eccentricities--and they all had those--but stealing Jack's napkin and tucking it there, too? Without even using it to wipe off the egg on his face?

Jack reached for Brayden's plate to get a peek at his secret napkin hoard.

[Brayden Smith]

"That's terrible and I hope you feel ashamed of yourself," said Bray dryly of Jack's joke—if it could be called that. Opportunistic play on words, Bray called it. But it felt so good to be able to exchange banter with him in public, instead of having it be restricted to the safety of their apartments. Bray wasn't without humor himself, honestly; he just didn't always find a good time to show that when there were other people around.

He tried to play off the napkin theft as normal but Jack wasn't having it, was he? Bray reached for Jack's hand when it snuck over to try and lift the two napkins under his plate. "No reason. You don't want to use these." That was phrased as an attempt at hypnosis rather than any convincing argument against unfolding both napkins to see the same number written on each.

What happened to adorable? What happened to relationship goals?! Bray was only in this relationship for one day—actually less than one hour!—and someone was already trying to take advantage. He knew what that young man Luka wanted, possibly, and he—he hadn't even had sex with Jack yet (that he could remember)! Why should someone with a pretty smile have the first crack at it?

[Jack Ripley]

"And yet..."

He shrugged artfully. He wasn't. Not even a little bit. It was a bad joke but he was having fun and that was so so much better than talking about his shitty past or ruminating over how or when or if ever to tell Brayden everything about himself. Yes, he much preferred terrible biscuit jokes.

"Why don't I want to use these?" Jack asked, using the same weird hypnotic tone Brayden used. Was he trying to use fairy magic on him? Jack scrutinized him for a moment. If so, it wasn't working. Maybe it didn't work after he swallowed. Everything.

His fingertips touched the napkins and as far as he could tell, they were your average, normal, everyday napkins. He gave it a gentle tug, because he didn't want to flip the plate over. He just wanted a good look at these special napkins.

"What... are... you... hiding...?" he asked slowly once he got a hold of one and turned it about in his hands--only to see... a phone number? He looked over at the cute guy behind the counter.

[Brayden Smith]

Three things Bray could have done in that moment—let Jack see both napkins, let Jack see one napkin or flip the table over entirely so no one saw any napkins. He didn't resist too hard when Jack's fingers closed around one for fear of actually upsetting the table and their food. It cost an exorbitant amount of money for some eggs and avocado and toast; Bray couldn't find it in him to ruin the meal by tussling with Jack over some napkins.

He supposed he could have used some of his abilities to put Jack to sleep before he looked at the napkin... but that felt like an over-reaction. Bray sighed and shook his head silently when Luka, behind the counter, gave them both an obvious wink. Steadfastly ignoring him, Bray ate his way through the first piece of toast. He looked up at Jack and frowned.

"No."

Not. Today.

Nobody consummated a beautiful relationship that almost never happened by propositioning the Birdy Bee Cafe wait staff to join a threesome, not on Bray's watch. Normally he was willing to bend over backwards but not about this! Reaching across the table, he reclaimed the napkin and stuffed it into his pocket with its brother, to commit to a recycling bin later.

[Jack Ripley]

"No?"

The napkin was snatched straight out of his hand. All right then. So... Wait, whose napkin was that? Was that his? Or was it Brayden's? (Did it matter?) Either way, one of them had just been given a phone number... after they were complimented on being "relationship goals."

Jack laughed gaily.

It wasn't mean spirited, it was just--poor Brayden's face. And his tone. It was like a storm cloud passed over him because of one little phone number.

"I wasn't going to call him," he said, of the napkin that had been torn away from him. But he sort of deserved it? Maybe? For telling Brayden he'd cheated on boyfriends before. It shouldn't even be funny, actually, that Brayden already couldn't trust him. They were really starting this relationship off on some bad footing.

"I really wasn't going to call him," he said again, this time in all seriousness. Luka... was young. The type he might have dated happily before. It was inappropriate, dating kids in his class. The dynamic was all wrong. He had a big smile, too, and he was cute--there was no denying that. But he was... not that black hole anymore. At least, he desperately didn't want to be.

"Now help me eat this," he said, sweeping that guy under the rug. "Their portions here are huge."

[Brayden Smith]

"No."

He didn't laugh along with Jack but he smiled because he saw the humor in the situation. And he knew Jack wouldn't have called Luka. He hoped Jack wouldn't have, because knowing each other as they did now, Jack had to at least respect the fact that Bray was a little slow-moving in the intimacy department. Hell, he couldn't look Jack in the face with a towel wrapped around his waist! How would a threesome work?

"I know... I know." His voice grew softer the second time Jack felt the need to reassure him, and under the table again he brushed Jack's ankle with his ankle. Bray wasn't offended. He wasn't even mad or upset. It was just that he needed to draw a line to avoid their wires crossing again. Sometimes even he was stung to speak up and this was one of those times. Bray didn't assert himself often, so when he did, it was serious. This? This was something that meant a lot to him and he was very serious about whom he opened not only his heart and life, but his legs to as well.

Mystified by this bizarre episode (was it common for kids to do this now?) Bray loaded his fork with some of the excellent food from Jack's plate. He also tore off a small part from the middle of his toast—the most tender and least dry part—for Jack to try. "He wrote it on both napkins," Bray said quietly as he offered up the toast, but not without a little amused smile to show that he wasn't upset.

"The answer is still no."

[Jack Ripley]

Say what? Jack looked over at the kid again. Kid had balls, Jack had to give him that. Propositioning the both of them... in the hopes for a threesome? Hey... how did he know Jack was up for those, anyway? Did he just look the part? Or was it wishful thinking from the kid? Jack's grin was slow to form but he was immensely amused by the situation.

"Okay, okay. No threesomes, either."

Which was... a bit disheartening. Brayden must be a bit prudish in regards to sex, but... the whole three year gap should have told him that. Maybe the Marge thing wouldn't happen, then. Aw, too bad. She seemed to like Allie a lot, though. But he was their crazy son. She wouldn't! Would she? Find him a boyfriend, have a good time with them both... It didn't have to involve Jack.

"And the toast isn't as dry as I thought," he conceded after he gave it a try. But he still thought his meal was better. It was a proper meal, for one. "But next time... I'll cook for us."

Jack leaned forward with an amused light in his eyes. "So guess where I learned to cook... since you know my big secret that I didn't have any fancy nannies or servants growing up."