We Are Bulletproof

Bee...?
Brayden?

A nap did Jack some good. With the nap, the vestiges of damage done by the wine were completely gone. He woke feeling oddly... free. No nightmares clung to him like cobwebs, no sense of dread. He almost forgot that he'd cried on his first date with Brayden. And then he remembered and part of him wanted to sink through the bed and die.

It helped that he woke up curled up beside Brayden. He had really taken the whole going to bed alone thing pretty hard for a while. Bringing home anybody that caught his eye... going home with anybody that caught his eye. Just to have somebody to sleep with, somebody to wake up next to, never mind whether or not they gave two shits about him. Half the time, Jack admittedly gave few shits about them.

Dinner was a simple enough affair. Jack cooked up a meal for the two of them and they talked, some of the things were the regular topics: work, observations about the neighbor kids, jokes about how their last card game went and how it might fare better next time. They touched upon the family thing. Not very deeply but it was out there now and it was cautious going but... Jack tentatively talked about his mother's addictions and then the women who ended up becoming his real role models, the reason he became a professor in the first place.

It felt... good. It felt normal. For once in his life, he wasn't putting on a big show and he hadn't realized just how exhausting it really was to hold onto all of that for so long. It was a relief to be able to share some of his life with somebody. For as long as he could remember, he held it so close to his chest that it strangled him. Almost nightly, he was plagued by nightmares, some from his childhood, some from the consequences of that childhood. One day, he thought, he would be able to share everything and he hoped... that it wouldn't crush Brayden with the weight that threatened to kill Jack all this time.

But he was in a much better place, after dinner, as he slid his arms into a thicker coat than the one he'd worn on their date. He still took care with his appearance. It didn't matter if it was just the two of them up there on that ridge. Jack still had to look good. His clothing, while more practical for their hike up the ridge, was still fanciful. But Jack was still Jack. Even if he wore the clothes like armor, he liked them.

He filled a bag with various items to take up with them, like a blanket and a thermos of Brayden's soup, and... He almost added a flask of alcohol but decided against it, setting it on the counter beside the variety of glass bottles instead. Slipping the bag's strap over his shoulder, he ushered Brayden out the door with him.

"Come on, the uber's waiting!" Jack was actually excited for this. He'd never been up hiking on the ridge before but Brayden made it sound wonderful.

We're doing this next weekend.
No buts.
But all butts. :)

@Brayden Smith

Jack spent most of the past weekend nursing his hangover but in the good company of his newfound friend, Brayden. At least, that's what he assumed they were. He was so hammered that night that he didn't remember much about the night but the morning, at least, was made nicer by the fact that somebody was there to dote over him. Hangover or sickness, Brayden was there to help.

Work at the school continued in the same vein as it had before. Luckily, Jack was nice and sober before he went in for work that week. And then... the curse of the weekend had arrived again. Friday night, Jack was content enough to stay in and play some card game that Brayden introduced him to at his apartment. But Saturday night, he found himself feeling... antsy.

He had no idea how the hell Brayden lived the way he did, in what appeared to be some form of celibacy. Virgin? He could be, but that would be so, so sad, given he was in his 30s. Poor, sad Brayden.

Jack almost texted Brayden to extend the invitation to him but if he recalled anything from his party night with co-workers, it was that Brayden didn't seem to like it much. (Also, Jack was mercilessly teased by Ali for having kissed him...? Ah, well. Drunk eyes.)

Dressing to the nines as he was wont to do, Jack took the walk up to the night club with all the confidence of a king strolling the streets of his commoners. And when he entered the night club, which he had attended before, he was more than a little pleased to see a great deal of the most beautiful naked men, dancing in lurid ways that left nothing to the imagination. Jack felt like he was eye fucking them just stepping into the place. God, if he felt like he was at home anywhere, this had to be it.

Stepping up to the bar, he held up some folded cash between two fingers.

"House special," he said. "And don't hold back on the hard stuff."

He knew he should be trying to steer clear of alcohol but with an entire week rubbing it out for somebody that clearly only wanted to be friends, he needed some kind of relief from it all.

Hey.
How important is it for me to come into work tomorrow?

@Brayden Smith

The thumping bass and the trill of some kind of siren combined with the flashing lights made Jack think that night clubs were the personification of panic attacks. The thump--the beat of the heart. The siren--impending danger. The flashing lights--a warning that a loss of consciousness was about to happen.

So why--why oh why--was a man like him here, of all places?

Jack sat at the counter, on one of those stools that most people had to hop onto. Jack was tall, though. All he had to do was slide into it. He liked these stools. It was better than trying to enfold his tall body into one of the booths around the club.

There were dancers on the stages, some men, some women. It was one of those open-minded clubs that catered to both. Everywhere Jack looked, there was flesh. Creamy thighs that way, a lean set of abs this way. Jack lifted his glass to his lips. At first, it was a sip but he got greedy. A moment later, he was on his third drink of the night, tipping his head back and letting liquid gold--jack and coke--slide down his throat. Setting his glass down, he closed his eyes and tried to revel in it. The scene. The music, the sound of laughter, of people shouting conversations over the pounding music.

"Another?" the bartender asked Jack. He put a ringed hand up and shook his head. The three drinks he'd had in quick succession were going to be quite enough at this point. He gently pushed his glass back towards the bartender.

"Maybe give it fifteen," he said with a flash of a smile. He slid off his stool and knocked on the bar a couple times before lifting his hand up and twiddling his fingers in a toodles style good-bye. "I'm going to see if I have the courage to find a dance partner now."

He winked, then moved towards the dancers, maybe... slightly stumbling a step or two. The song changed over to a new one and Jack kissed his fist and pumped it up into the air.

"I love this song!" he said cheerily to whomever was listening.