Under my skin

[Jack Ripley]

"Did you have a nightmare?"

Unconsciously, Jack echoed Brayden's motion the night before by reaching out and gently running a thumb under Brayden's eye. But where Jack had merely been exhausted and lacked real tears at the time, Jack's thumb met moisture. If it was from the remnants of a nightmare, then it couldn't be one about not getting the paperwork finished. Something deeper was at play.

Jack thought he knew Brayden because he simply felt it. Somehow, he felt comfortable talking to him, telling him things he wouldn't dream of telling other people. But... they didn't really know each other. This was the first time they said more than two words at a time to one another, so Jack didn't know where Brayden's pain came from. He recognized it, though. Another person like him. Another person with pain weighted heavily around their throat like a chain.

Everybody with pain seemed to deal with it in different ways. Life is pain. Jack's mother dealt with it by drinking and getting so blitzed that she never had to think about anything or anybody, not even herself. His father dealt with it by transferring it to somebody smaller and younger because he could. Jack... didn't like to think, either. But he was aware of the similarities between himself and his mother.

Gently, he ruffled Brayden's hair, leaned in and kissed the top of his head, and then pulled him closer in a half hug, Brayden's face to his chest. He ran his fingers through Brayden's hair slowly. But after a moment, he smiled and tilted his head to peer at Brayden.

"But yes, you do owe me big time."

[Brayden Smith]

Jack didn't know, he could have had a nightmare about mountains of paperwork not being done and he could have cried about it like a little baby... But of course he didn't. Unfinished paperwork was panic-worthy but not tear-worthy. Bray did feel horribly embarrassed to be caught crying straight out of a dream and it was never more apparent that Jack knew he'd been crying when he reached out to brush away tears under his eye. The tenderness of the act went right to Bray's heart and pierced through it like a hot knife through butter.

He was so starved for love. There wasn't nearly enough of it in his life and he didn't know how to cope with the loss. These dreams were the only times that he felt really happy and the more he had them, the more tempting it was to keep going back to them. Bray wouldn't have done anything drastic but he had to admit... some nights he was tempted. He didn't have Ambien lurking around in his medicine cabinet but there were other kinds of drugs floating around out there, he knew, that could help him drift off into eternal sleep.

His mother would be so disappointed in him though, if he did something foolhardy like that. She wanted him to have a good life and a full life, not to cut it short because he was lonely. Bray tried to put on a good front too, despite how he felt when he woke up from dreams like these; he supposed in that respect he and Jack were rather alike. Neither of them wanted to be seen at their most vulnerable, at the neediest points in their lives. But... it wasn't so bad with Jack. He could live with looking like a giant baby if Jack was the only one who knew.

"No... not a nightmare," he said slowly, feeling the weight of Jack's hand in his hair. It was so... misleading the way Jack kept touching him, kept reaching out. Bray wasn't accustomed to it; his friends, the few that he had, weren't nearly as physical as this. None of them ever kissed his forehead or drew him close the way Jack was now. It felt a lot more like something a lover would do and he was confused because Jack stated outright that he didn't want anything serious. Was this... not serious? Then what was it?

Nonetheless, Bray leaned into him and he loosely slid his arms around Jack's waist, holding on to the back of his silk pajamas. For a moment he closed his eyes and breathed, breathing him in and silently grateful for the outpouring of emotional support—even if it was sending mixed signals. The way Jack stroked his hair was so reminiscent of his mother's gentle touch that his eyes burned again, and he turned his face fully into Jack's chest to stem the tears.

"You can... collect any time," he said into Jack's chest. Now he was the one using humor to deflect, wasn't he? What was it about Jack that made him feel so safe? And at the same time, so confused. Conflicted. Bray didn't know how to feel in the moment but his mother's words echoed in his mind: stay with him and eventually he would tell Bray how best to help him. She warned him, too... Jack's pain might overwhelm him. Bray still had to try though.

He eased his head back and looked up to see Jack smiling at him. Bray smiled weakly back. "I saw my mother. I spoke to her." The tears were in part of longing, in part from the happiness of reuniting with her and hearing her advice. Bray did want to help Jack even if there was nothing in it for him. He instinctively felt drawn to Jack—to Jack's pain—but he didn't know how to go about getting closer to him. Who knew that a mountain of paperwork helped pave the way? They were closer now, weren't they? A week ago Bray wouldn't have dreamed about being held by him. Now here he was...

He lowered his gaze again as the emotions ebbed and he stopped wanting to bawl after every word. Bray didn't let go of him, though. "She died a few years ago, right after my dad passed away. It was all so sudden. One day she was here, holding my hand and telling me not to worry and the next... they were both gone and I was... all alone." His voice lowered and his fingers tightened around Jack's pajamas. He didn't mean to unload his feelings onto Jack but the words tumbled out of their own accord. "They were all I had."

[Jack Ripley]

"I'll keep that in mind."

Jack said it as if he had something planned but in reality, he didn't. It was another form of deflection, to make light of a darker situation by injecting a little bit of humor into it. He didn't really care to collect anything from Brayden. Well, maybe that wasn't true. But there were no intentions of shoving him into some shit all over some imagined debt. Jack didn't, in essence, believe he was owed anything. He was the one who volunteered to help and Brayden would have had it all done himself the night before if Jack wasn't... selfish.

It wasn't as if he'd withheld the information on purpose. He just didn't realize that Brayden took it so seriously. The paperwork. Or that they wouldn't be awake earlier. Knowing he could pick the lock was sitting there in his mind but it was never at the forefront. Like a lot of things, especially when he was still half drunk from the night club, the knowledge was there within him... it was just floating in a place he couldn't quite reach at the time.

But this... this was fine. It was fine for Brayden to think he held it back the whole time. Didn't say anything. Ahem. Let him... suffer. (That part wasn't so fine.) But! He thought he was helping. Wasn't he helping? Right now? Brayden held onto him, hugged him back.

"...what?"

Color him surprised. Brayden saw his mother and she made him cry? When? In his dream? But it all made sense when Brayden continued. She was gone. She had died. And... Brayden loved her and no doubt, she loved him. Jack tried to smile at that but it was tiny, more of a flicker than anything. They were all he had. Both parents. Both gone. The air felt so heavy and weighted by the admission.

No siblings? No... friends? Just... nothing? Jack could connect there. Sometimes he wished for an older sibling to protect him. Sometimes he was glad it was just him and that he was a survivor. And friends, he had a few he might have called that but... they were never really friends. They were all in it for themselves, people like himself. Other kids in the neighborhood, getting into trouble. Getting him into trouble.

Saying that he was sorry for Brayden was not enough so he didn't say it. They were just perfunctory words, anyway. Things people said because they weren't sure what else to say. Jack thought the words were hollow. That they didn't help anybody with anything. To him, it was more in the action of the embrace, in the gentle squeeze of the shoulder, and a kiss to the temple. The willingness to be close and human and there, solid and real. The way words could never be.

And he let it sit, the moment. Let the feelings run their course for as long as he could let them before he reluctantly pulled away and smiled at Brayden, wordlessly, a hand on his cheek. Another beat and he took in a breath and turned his gaze on the table and the paperwork and the time.

"I hate to cut this short, B, but... come, come." He stood, gesturing for Brayden to do the same. "Today is going to be a long day."

[Brayden Smith]

Nothing, nothing, nothing all around him, and everything compacted inside. Bray was too full, overflowing with emotions that he didn't dare share with anyone else for fear of rejection. He had too much baggage, he knew. He wasn't and couldn't ever be and had never been that carefree type who let the weight of the world slide right off their shoulders. His shoulders bore the burden of everything and it was too heavy for one person.

Somehow he still carried on. The days kept going by, one after the other. Nothing changed just because Brayden Smith had a bad day, or because Brayden Smith talked to his mother in his dreams and woke up crying. Time marched on, unfeeling, uncomprehending, unsympathetic to anyone's plight. And he knew he wasn't alone but it was harder to remember that when he sat here in his fancy too-expensive apartment, still surrounded by everything that reminded him of the people he loved and lost.

Usually he went through the aftermath of these dreams alone, dabbing his eyes with the corner of his blanket. Today, unlike any other day, everything was topsy turvy. Ever since he met Jack--really met him, not just nodded silently to him from across the courtyard--he felt as though his life was inexplicably different. Things kept happening. Things like this, stripping off layer after layer and exposing him as the human (well, fae) he really was instead of some construct he hoped others would see and accept.

It helped to have someone holding him. It helped a lot. He was grateful for Jack but words of thanks didn't feel enough so he also said nothing, and instead held on for as long as Jack would let him. He hoped Jack understood. He thought he must have, because Jack let him stay there for quite some time and there was that look in his eyes again as he looked at Bray--until the time became an issue. Bray straightened with a start and a low curse, eyes flying to the clock. "Shit!" He scrambled to stuff all the papers back into his bag and leapt to his feet.

"Taxi! Can you call me a taxi? I need to change. You-you don't have to be there until later so-but-I have to--" He rushed off into his bedroom and carelessly left the door open as he frantically dug through his closet for something to wear that wasn't crumpled and rumpled. Bray all but tore his clothes off and hastily shoved himself into some new ones, buttoning up his dress shirt so quickly that he mismatched the buttons to the slots and had to start all over again, cursing each one as he did so.

[Jack Ripley]

"Yes," he said, even as Brayden was tearing off into his bedroom, presumably to get ready for work. "I can call a taxi," Jack said to the air in front of him. Turning to the table where he'd left his phone, he picked it up. Searched for a taxi service nearby. Called it.

Meanwhile, it sounded like Brayden was wrestling with half the cast of the Beauty and the Beast in his bedroom (at least, Jack assumed he didn't have any actual people in there but who knew? He could be wrong... but then how cruel would that be, for them to leave Brayden outside?)

Peering into Brayden's bedroom, where Brayden was the picture of Panic personified, Jack leaned against the door jamb. "All right. I called the taxi. It'll be here in ten to fifteen, so that's all the time you've got."

He remained in the doorway for a moment, then lowered his head, shaking it slightly.

"Here," he said, entering the bedroom and stepping in front of Brayden. He smacked at his flurry of useless hands, buttoning and unbuttoning the wrong rows in his state of agitation. "Allow me."

It was nothing for Jack to link all the right buttons to their allotted button holes and when he was finished, he gave Brayden's chest a gentle one-two pat.

"Well, there you go." He checked the time. "You should really... get going. Try to... eat something. You know. And maybe you don't like coffee but caffeine is your best friend today. All right?"

[Brayden Smith]

HOW was Jack so CALM?

Meanwhile Bray slipped full-on into panic mode. He always thought he worked better under pressure but in reality, that was just his way of justifying his freak-outs. Time crunches weren't Bray's specialty. He worked best when he had ample time to plan things out. Sure, there were always deadlines, but Bray didn't have much of a life so he usually got everything done early.

"Ten minutes? Okay. Okay I can--goddamnit!" He looked down to find that he'd mismatched the buttons again... in the other direction. Bray was about to rip off the shirt Hulk-style and find a sweater he could pull over his head when Jack entered and batted his hands away. He stood there somewhat defeated, shoulders slumped, watching Jack carefully buttoning up the shirt. Calm, cool and collected. Mister Suave.

"...thank you." He smiled wryly at the pat to the chest and reached out to give Jack's arm-elbow a pat. His hand sort of slid around. Yep, he was still internally panicking. Bray tore around the apartment again, collecting keys, phone, bag, coming back around to Jack as the taxi honked outside. "Eat. Coffee. Yes. Got it. You-you too. There's food in the fridge, see if there's anything you like. Don't go without eating something too, okay?"

At that point, Bray slipped into work mode. But for some reason he slipped into work mode three years ago, when he was still dating Wyatt. When, in the mornings, he tore around getting ready while Wyatt wandered around in his underwear watching him scurrying about the place. Bray used to fret over him too, telling him there was food in the fridge, not to skip breakfast. And before he left, he'd always--

The taxi honked again. In a hurry, he leaned up and pecked Jack on the lips. "Love you, bye."

It wasn't until Bray had his hand on the front door handle, having just closed it behind him, that he realized what he had done. Out of sheer habit. Somehow reverting back to the time when he lived with someone, he... Bray's eyes popped and his mouth dropped in a silent scream before his entire face screwed up into a horrible grimace. He hugged the bulging file folder tightly to his chest and sprinted across the courtyard towards the taxi waiting outside.

[Jack Ripley]

"That's nice of you and all, but I was planning to--"

Jack's words were cut off by a sudden shift in... dynamics? One minute, Jack was telling Brayden that he wasn't going to stay in Brayden's place. He had his own place and needed to get dressed and ready, too. And there was food in his own fridge. Not to mention there was coffee back home. But it was all cut off and he swallowed it back as Brayden leaned in to give him a cute little peck on the lips--okay?--Jack blinked.

But then... Love you, bye...?

"...bye...?" Jack said faintly, unsure how to react for once. It was almost like Brayden was playing out a natural scene with an established lover. It was exactly the kind of scenario that went hand in hand with somebody that lived with somebody for a while. The door was closed and Jack was left standing in Brayden's apartment. Alone. He licked his lips, not quite believing what happened.

Funny how natural it all came, though. Swallowing hard, Jack adjusted his pajamas, looked around the apartment now that Brayden wasn't there. He had no desire to pick through his things or do anything untoward. So he made sure he had his things and then walked out, making sure to lock Brayden's apartment door as he did. By the time he had left the apartment, the taxi with Brayden inside had left.

Jack hated rushing things so when he made it back to his own apartment, he immediately began brewing coffee, turned on a hot shower, and began gathering clothes together. The superintendent would be there so he had to dress the part. Not... that Jack didn't normally do so.

Although he had been given the okay to come in late, he still wondered if Brayden was functioning okay after the previous night, the paperwork, and the dream about his mother.

Once Jack's morning rituals had been cared for and he'd popped a few pills to help his head (and downed a couple of glasses of precious lemon water for hydration), he eventually had to call a taxi of his own. Normally, he carpooled to work with the aforementioned neighbor but since he had already gone on ahead of him, Jack was left with the taxi option.

By the time he arrived at the school, he wasn't surprised to see that everything seemed to be in chaos. People were doing their best to present their best feet forward. Perhaps Jack had the least to lose; he wasn't all that worried about what the superintendent thought of him or his department.

"You're late!" cried Jett Paretti when he entered the office. "The superintendent's going to be here any minute now!"

"I had permission to come in late," Jack said as he nonchalantly poured himself another cup of coffee from the communal office pot. "Besides, I'm here now, aren't I?"

[Brayden Smith]

God, he was mortified. That was now Bray's default state of being. He sank down low in the back seat of the taxi as it sped off and ran a hand over his face, wondering what Jack must have thought about the kiss. Love you. He didn't know what came over him. The rush of getting to the office, the dream, the hellish night before... Everything. Everything.

The taxi ride was just long enough for Bray to replay the scene over in his mind five times, each time only making him feel worse. But somehow he still felt oddly pleased about certain parts of it. The kiss. Peck, really. Little press of lips to lips. It still felt nice, though. It took him back to a time when he wasn't completely alone, and when there was somebody around for him to kiss good-bye before leaving for work.

Just... odd how easily Jack slipped into that role.

Everything was muddled in his mind, which was why getting to the school and being accosted by the dean was such a relief. "I know—I'm late," Bray gasped as he hurried inside with the paperwork still clutched to his chest. "Here. It's all done. Everything should be here. I'll go set up the meeting room." He didn't let the dean launch into a tirade; he just walked swiftly off, leaving the man with the stack of papers.

Bray finished preparing things just in time; the superintendent arrived on time and was greeted with the appropriate amount of both pomp and circumstance. Bray became background furniture again, scurrying around bringing coffee and tea, leading people to and fro, turning lights on and off in meeting rooms. He didn't get a chance to even go to the bathroom until the superintendent went for lunch, leaving him thoroughly exhausted—and with a bladder filled to bursting. Once he'd relieved himself, he staggered into the staff room where everyone was expected to wait for a word from the superintendent before he went on to meet each department head.

He opened the door, walked directly to the nearest empty seat and collapsed into it, burying his face in his hands. Bray took in a deep breath. God, Jack was right. It was going to be such a long day. Someone nearby placed a hand on his shoulder and he looked up to see Ali grinning down at him. "Everything okay Bray? You look like hell."

"...thanks..." Bray muttered, as his gaze automatically tracked to the tall, handsome man talking to Jett. Ah. Ooh. Love you. Bray eased his body slightly to the left so that Ali could hide him a little more, swallowing hard.

[Jack Ripley]

Jett Paretti was one of those men who had probably been in the profession for more than half his life now. He was the head of the psychology department, the one who assessed new students and aided them with anything they needed in the form of disabilities. He was a man in his early 60s with the wild eyes of a madman. Privately, Jack had been somewhat intimidated by him when they met, although he didn't say as much. As he got to know him, though, he learned he wasn't as... mad... as his face suggested. Most of the time.

While Jett went over some prudent information with him, the door opened and Brayden entered. Jack watched him out of the corner of his eye, then forced himself to look back at Jett as he kept speaking. After a moment, he handed him some protocol thing and by "handed", he thrust it against Jack's chest and told him to make sure he read it.

When he took a peek at it, however, he puzzled over it and looked back up at Jett. "Isn't this the same thing you gave me when I was hired...?"

"Brush up on it."

And then Jett was off to talk to Sheila, who worked as the school counselor and had entered after Brayden. Jack turned back to the table, then stiffly went over to Brayden and sat at his open side. He plopped the pages down in front of him.

"Brayden!" he said cheerily. He tapped on the pages. "Turns out you're not the only one with nerves about this visit!"

He eyed the guy Brayden was near, who seemed to be oddly standing in such a way earlier that he seemed to be trying to shield Brayden from Jack. In response to that, Jack only raised his brows at him before flipping through the pages in front of him. There were only 4 or 5 pages but they were a reminder of expected conduct and all that bullshit. What, was Paretti saying he wasn't performing to task?

[Brayden Smith]

(That's Willem fucking Dafoe, don't you dare tell me otherwise! LOOOOL make him c'mon he's awesome)

"I should've had some coffee," Bray whispered into his palms, face buried once again in his hands. Ali gave his shoulder a few more comforting pats, making some smart-alecky remark about how Bray on coffee would be bouncing off the walls. When Bray looked up, Ali was still grinning. He was just one of those people who never seemed to be in a bad mood. And he was probably one of only two people that Bray counted as a really good friend.

"Hey, you want to hit up the bar after work? A bunch of us are going--what're you doing Bray?"

Bray was dodging around, hoping that Jack hadn't seen him but of course Jack had seen him. Now he looked like an idiot, bobbing around trying to use Ali as a human shield. He didn't think he could feel any more embarrassed but as Jack walked over after conversing with Jett (who, honestly, scared the shit out of Bray most days), Bray felt himself desperately desiring that a hole open up under him, leading straight into a pit of molten lava.

Molten lava was how his face felt like as Jack eased into the space on his other side and very fluidly slipped into the adjacent chair. Ali beamed at Jack's comment about nerves, pointing down to Bray who was looking straight ahead like a deer caught in the headlights.

"You wanna talk about nervous? This guy is freaking out. Again." Ali laughed as he patted the back of Bray's neck. "C'mon. Come to the bar with us Bray. You too Jack, if you're not busy after work."

[Jack Ripley]

(Had to head canon him somewhere LMAO)

"Oh, I didn't mean me. Paretti's making me read through this thing he gave me on my first day for some reason." When did he give that weird old man cause to think he'd break conduct? All he ever did here was his job. So far, he managed to dodge any temptation to lean back into old habits. Most of the time, anyway. Jack flipped through the pages without much passion. It was generic shit he already knew about and he wasn't entirely interested in reviewing it.

"And I'm never busy after work."

What would he possibly do? Go home and what, sleep? Besides which, when a co-worker invited him out, he wasn't going to say no. He needed this. Something wild to take his mind off anything too serious. He leaned back in his seat, dropping the pages onto the table again.

"Where at?"

[Brayden Smith]

(I LOVE IT. <3333)

"He does that to everyone. I'm pretty sure he thinks of it as his personal Bible," Bray said at last, finally looking over at Jack because not looking at Jack made things even more awkward. Well, Jack seemed... natural. Not weird. Just Bray then?

Just Bray then.

He offered Jack the tiniest, most apologetic smile he had ever given anyone in his life as Ali gave Jack the address, obviously pleased to have him along. Bray... usually declined. And Ali knew that it wasn't anything personal, that he simply wasn't down for sitting at a bar drinking ice water while everyone else had themselves a good time. When people went off to the bathroom or wanted to dance, Bray ended up watching their things again. Just like when he was younger.

"How about you Bray? You down?"

"Ah. I think I'll pass. Thanks anyway." He smiled up at Ali with some measure of warmth and Ali only laughed.

"Thought so. Well maybe some day you'll grace us with your presence. Heh." He moved off to another group, where Bray heard him asking other professors to join him at the bar. Life of the party, Ali, but also just a genuinely good man.

Bray slowly turned back to Jack. Now that they were alone (somewhat) he cleared his throat softly in preparation to tackle. Love you. "I... umm... I'm sorry about this morning. I just. Was in a rush and forgot... Sorry."

[Jack Ripley]

You should come, he wanted to say to Brayden but recalling how he barely got any sleep, he would probably just end up passing out. So he only remained as he was, relaxing in his seat, legs crossed, eyes on Brayden as he finally managed to look at him. What was he so nervous about? Why hide from him? He seemed infinitely more comfortable with his other co-worker than with Jack.

Oh, maybe he was a friend of his. Brayden grew up in Hazleton. It stood to reason he'd have friends he grew up with. Shit. Mrs. Thompson. She was cheerfully talking about something to do with the funding and she sounded pretty positive about it. Jack gently elbowed Brayden to get his attention on her. As if to say, look, the funding isn't in any danger.

And... Brayden was apologizing. Again. Jack appraised him for a moment, trying to decide what part of that morning he meant to apologize for.

"Forgot what, exactly?"

[Brayden Smith]

He did hear the talk about funding and it did his anxious heart a lot of good to know that the paperwork had gotten done on time. Bray had Jack to thank for that. He had a lot to thank Jack for, if he had to be honest. When he was down, when he needed someone the most, Jack came through. He didn't have to; he wasn't indebted to Bray. No, Jack did it out of the kindness and goodness of his heart.

Like Ali, Jack was just a good man.

Bray was caught on his question, though, as he stared straight ahead again. Both elbows were on the tops of his knees; he leaned forward, almost doubling over, fingers criss-crossing, curling inward. His gaze was far away as though he could see far, far beyond the crowded staff room that they were in. When he spoke, it was in as small a voice as his earlier tiny apologetic, sheepish smile.

"Forgot that I was alone."

[Jack Ripley]

That... what? He was alone? Jack wasn't sure he followed. Did Brayden leave something dirty around the apartment that he was afraid Jack caught sight of? If he thought Jack was a snoopy creep, he had him all wrong. After Brayden left, Jack had no reason to hang around. Besides, he had to take the time to hurry back to his own place to clean up and look presentable for work.

Jack slid an arm over the back of Brayden's chair, checking over his nails with the other. Forgot he was alone. Then he recalled that as he left, Brayden kissed him. Not a big deal. Jack did more than that with people he never even saw again. (Or with people he did see again, which he supposed was more awkward.) The connections formed easily after that, though. The actions of a man who had been in a long term relationship. Brayden forgot he wasn't in a relationship and he sort of... substituted Jack for whomever it was that occupied that spot before.

"Oh!" Jack laughed. "Why are you apologizing for that? Trust me, you could've done worse." He outright smiled at the idea of being a replacement for a relationship, even if it was just out of habit or loneliness. Was this another one of those things Brayden kept in his mind, occupying it and tormenting him until he made it into a mountain?

"It was cute. Don't worry about it. Really, I'm flattered. Most people wouldn't consider me relationship material."