Telegraph Avenue Epilogue (II of II)
Nov. 2nd, 2004 08:18 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hackthis_archive Telegraph Avenue Epilogue (I of II)
There were a million things about Ian that Jamie really liked. He liked that Ian spoke four different languages, and only went into International Affairs because he wanted to do something with all the curse words he’d learned while he was modeling. He liked that Ian made a point of driving home to San Diego once a month to give his little brothers surfing lessons. He probably fell in love with Ian because of how passionate he was about everything he did -– but that didn’t make up for the way Ian tended to assume that Jamie agreed with him about everything unless Jamie said otherwise.
Jamie also hated it when Ian stole all the covers in bed and how he always tended to be right about people. He hated that Ian could figure out what he was thinking without him saying it, and most of all, he hated Ian’s cowboy boots.
They were hideous, and scuffed up, and parked outside his apartment when he came home from his Advanced Japanese tutorial.
Jamie rubbed at his eyes as they traveled from boots to jeans to black leather jacket and dark green scarf. That was his fucking scarf, too. No wonder he could never find any of his clothing; Ian had it all.
He took the last step to the landing slowly, and a sigh emerged from somewhere in his throat. He had a thousand questions. Why are you here? How long have you been waiting? Isn’t your ass numb from sitting out here in the cold? Are you here for sex? I’m not letting you in if you are, but are you?
“Why do you still have these goddamn boots?” popped out.
Ian gave him a broad grin as he came closer to his apartment. “Because I like’em,” he said, banging the heel against the concrete floor.
“They’re just –- man, those are so fucking ugly.”
Ian grinned ruefully. “Well, I like’em. They’re part of my ode to Brokeback Mountain.”
Jamie rolled his eyes, pausing just next to Ian to locate his keys. “You’re never going to get over the time Heath Ledger came to that San Diego gig, are you?”
“He eyefucked you,” Ian said. “What do you think?”
“It sounds like somebody was jealous.”
Ian made a noise of derision. “Whatever. This isn’t Kansas anymore, Dorothy.”
Jamie looked down at Ian and then up at his door. After a moment of hesitation, he placed a foot on either side of Ian’s hips and began flipping through the keys on his ring. He was playing with fire by having his crotch this close to Ian’s face, and clearly his cock thought so, because he began to get hard.
“Is that another gay joke?” he asked, thankful for the wool coat that covered up what was happening in his jeans. “Because, you know, those got kind of old after the first fifty times we fucked.”
Jamie looked down when he felt Ian’s hand wrap around his ankle. “Wanna see how you feel after number fifty-one?” Ian looked up at Jamie as he slipped his hand underneath the hem of Jamie’s jeans and rubbed his ankle through his sock.
Ian was molesting his ankle. He was clearly insane. More importantly though, Jamie’s dick apparently saw this as foreplay, and he exhaled a shaky breath before smiling. “No, thanks.”
“You can’t blame a guy for trying,” Ian said, slipping his hand higher on Jamie’s ankle until he came in contact with bare skin. The palm of Ian’s hand was cold, and Jamie shivered. His growing erection was not helping his ability to think.
“When you’re finished with molesting my ankle, you can come in,” he said, slipping his key into the lock and turning the deadbolt. “I mean, unless you want to stay out here and get hemorrhoids on your ass. It’s up to you.”
Ian was up and standing behind Jamie a lot faster than he expected. He’d forgotten how fast Ian could be sometimes; it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, and he twitched when he felt Ian’s warm breath against the back of his neck.
“C’mon, Jamie.” Ian’s voice was entirely too low and husky, but all he said was, “Let’s get moving.”
Jamie took his hand away from the key and turned around sharply. Ian was entirely too close; they almost knocked heads. “There will be no seduction attempts today, are we clear?”
Jamie spoke more to his body than to Ian, but Ian nodded, blue eyes bright. “Right.”
“I’m serious.” Ian had seven freckles on his nose. Jamie hadn’t seen them so closely in a long time.
“You always are.”
Jamie tried to frown and failed. “Why did we break up again?” He blinked as the words fell from his lips thoughtlessly, and Ian gave him a small smile.
“I don’t know. I always thought you'd tell me.”
Jamie bit his lip. This had been his decision. He had been the one who said it wasn’t working out for him. He had been the one to walk away, but Ian had just let him. He’d just let him go; he hadn’t even tried to stop him. What the hell was that all about?
His brain wasn’t giving him any answers. It was freaking him out.
“I hope you got the time you needed,” Ian said finally.
Jamie just nodded. He didn’t even realize Ian had kissed him on the cheek until he was walking away.
“Where the hell are you going?” Jamie’s voice was entirely too loud in the night.
“I’m trying to give you what you wanted.”
“What do you mean, what I wanted?”
“You wanted space.”
“No, you said I wanted space.”
“Was I wrong?’
“What? No...no. But that’s not the point.”
“Uh huh.”
“What the fuck -- that was eight months ago!” Jamie shouted. “I hate you sometimes.”
Ian paused at the top of the stairs and turned back. “Yeah, I love you too.”
*
The music in the Urban Outfitters off of Bancroft always gave Jamie a headache. Either that or it made him think he should be out of his mind on Ecstasy and drawing pictures with fingerpaint. He could never afford anything in the damn store either, except for whatever Carrie got for him with her employee discount.
Jamie nodded to the woman at the door as he entered the store and immediately headed for the shoe section, where he found Carrie nodding as some chick tottered back and forth on Lucite heels.
Carrie was pulling at the hem of her electric-blue shirt in boredom, and Jamie hung back as the girl consulted with her friend on the merits of clear-stacked shoes to go with her outfit for some party. When Carrie saw him she rolled her eyes so hard Jamie thought they might get stuck in her head.
She said something to the girl in the platforms and came over to where Jamie was studying the latest crop of sneakers. “I know some girl who can get you those really cheap,” she said with a wink.
“Did they fall off the back of a truck?” Jamie asked, holding up a pair of maroon and aqua Adidas for inspection.
Carrie wrinkled her nose and took them out his hand. “You are so fashion challenged,” she said handing him a pair of Asics instead.
“At least I’m not buying stripper shoes,” Jamie said in a low voice.
Carrie covered her mouth as she snickered and then played it off by pushing her short black-and-blue hair behind her right ear. “My shift is over, but if you need anything else, Leila can help you,” she said over her shoulder to the future-porn star.
“Who’s Lee-la?” the girl asked.
“The girl with the striped stockings and the nose ring,” Carrie said pointing out an Amazon with red hair across the store.
The girl blinked.
“Good luck,” Carrie said, grabbing Jamie by the sleeve of his jacket and dragging him to the entrance.
“I’m so done,” she announced handing a badge of some sort to her co-worker at the front door.
“I hear that, honey,” said the woman at the doorway. Jamie tripped over his feet slightly as he realized the woman at the door was actually not a woman at all.
Carrie took a sharp left down Bancroft, and Jamie jogged to keep up. How she managed to walk so fast in combat boots with thick soles was beyond him.
“A little anxious to get off work?” he asked as Carrie pulled her shirt over her head, uncovering a bright pink and orange shirt that said ‘Existentialists Aren’t Really Here.”
“If I didn’t need the money, I’d so burn that place down,” she said, handing Jamie her sweater and patting down her pockets. “I need smokes. We must get me smokes.”
“So you can burn the place down?” Jamie asked, dodging a biker and a rollerblader as they stopped at the Oxford intersection.
“Tempting, but no,” Carrie said. “Let’s go to Walgreens. I need tampons.”
Jamie blinked, but thought better of saying anything. Instead he focused on the Hare Krishnas across the street.
“So, I hear you’ve been strumming Ian’s guitar,” Carrie said, taking off at a brisk stride as the light changed. It took Jamie several seconds to process what she said, and she was already half way across the street before he caught up.
“You heard what?”
Carrie shot him a blinding grin as they reached the other side of Oxford and continued down Bancroft. “Rusty told me you guys have been practicing together,” she said.
“Oh, well, yeah,” Jamie said.
Carrie stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and turned to face him sharply; Jamie was almost mowed down by the person walking behind them. “Why did I have to hear about it second hand?” she asked, putting her hands on her hips and looking up at him. Considering she was only 5’2, she could be really menacing.
“That’s fucked up, Jay. I thought we were friends. Why did I have to hear you’re fucking Ian from Rusty? It’s not like I don’t see you three times a week in Existentialist Crises; you could’ve just told me.”
Carrie’s glower was truly a scary thing, and Jamie could feel the look of disbelief spreading across his face. “I’m not fucking Ian!” he said loudly, bringing his voice down when he realized people were staring at him. “I’m not,” he protested in a lower tone.
Carried nodded. “Uh huh,” she said pursing her lips.
“I’m not.”
“Riiiight,” Carrie said as she started walking again.
“I can’t help it if you don’t believe me,” Jamie said, glancing at Carrie as they walked side-by-side.
“Okay, maybe you’re not really fucking Ian,” Carrie conceded as they took a right on Shattuck. “But he wants you back really badly, you know that, right?”
Jamie took a deep breath and then exhaled for a long time. “He wants to fuck,” he said rubbing his forehead, “that’s different.”
Carrie made a snorting noise. “Okay, he probably wants that too, but seriously, he wants you back.”
Jamie shook his head. “He just freaked out because I was seeing Seth.”
“No, he’s been freaking out since you left him.”
“Whatever.”
Carrie stopped outside Walgreens. “Fine, don’t believe me. It’s your life.”
Jamie sighed. “Are you high?”
Carrie grinned. “No, but we could be.”
Jamie laughed.
“Wanna smoke up and go grocery shopping at the Ralph’s in Rockridge?” she said.
Jamie licked lips and pretended to look thoughtful.
Carrie rolled her eyes. “C’mon idiot, I’ll get smokes and then we’ll go to my place. Maybe if we time it right we can get Rusty after he’s done with his Abnormal Psych class.”
*
The backdoor of the Freight was locked.
Jamie had been playing there every other week for eight months and the backdoor was never locked. It had nothing to do with health hazards and fire codes; the owner, Marty, was a compulsive smoker who had to have a cigarette in the back alley every forty-two minutes (he had been timed), and if the back door was locked… Well, Jamie didn’t know what that meant.
Shifting his guitar from one hand to the other, he walked back to the street and then around to the front of the building. There were people milling around the entrance, and Pete was sitting on his tiny stool at the front door, holding his clipboard just like every other night.
“What’s up, big man?” Pete said getting to his feet and nodding at Jamie approvingly. Pete called everyone big man -- ironic considering he was 6’4 and 300 pounds, and Jamie could hear strains of music and applause coming from inside, which was a little strange, considering that Marty never liked double-bills.
“Am I out of job or something?” Jamie asked, gesturing towards the door.
Pete laughed. “Not likely, big man, just some hack in there wailing away. You know what a bleeding heart Marty is.”
“I bet you say the same thing about me,” Jamie said as opened the door and walked in. He could still hear Pete’s eardrum rattling laugh on the other side of the glass, and he was slightly taken aback when his eyes adjusted to the darkness and he realized that the Freight was packed.
Whoever it was must have been some hack.
There was laughter and whispering all around Jamie, and he tried not to disrupt too many people as he worked his way towards the stage. He stopped dead in his tracks when he heard Jeff Tweedy’s voice ringing in his ears.
Wilco wouldn’t be playing at the Freight, but Ian would.
Jamie’s stomach began to knot as Ian’s voice filled his ears and he began to sing about American aquarium drinkers. He couldn’t really tell how long he stood there listening to Ian sing ‘I Am Trying to Break Your Heart’ but he was yanked out his reverie by a hand clamping down on his arm and tugging him forward.
It took him a minute to identify the black hair and the vice-like grip, but he would know the orange nails anywhere, and he stumbled as Carrie dragged him through the crowd. His guitar case had to be assaulting the people behind him at an alarming rate, and he felt a bit bad about that.
It had been a long time since Jamie had been on the other side of the stage, and he rocked back slightly on his heels as Ian’s head turned in his direction and their eyes locked.
Jamie only realized the song had ended when the people around him clapped, and Ian never looked away even as he bent down and picked up his water. Taking a sip, he leaned forward into the microphone. “Hallelujah, you’ve been saved! The real talent’s here.”
Jamie stumbled again as someone behind him pushed him directly onto the stage. He squinted as he turned into the spotlight; he couldn’t see a damn thing except Ian.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like you to meet my favorite singer in the entire world,” Ian kept one eye on Jamie and another on the crowd. “My ex-boyfriend.”
Jamie looked from Ian to the crowd, and as his eyes adjusted he could make out Carrie and Rusty standing front and center. He shouldn’t have been surprised, but he missed whatever it was that Ian said next that made the crowd go ‘aww.’
“Are you gonna sit down or are you doing your tree routine?” Ian turned in his chair and cocked his head to the side, and it was rather obvious from his tone and the way Carrie crossed her arms when Jamie looked at her that he didn’t have much choice.
Slipping onto the chair next to Ian, he set his guitar case at his feet and opened it. He could hear Ian talking to the audience as he tuned his guitar and got himself together. He only looked up when he was ready, and he smiled when he saw Seth standing near the corner of the stage.
When Seth shifted and Ryan appeared directly over his shoulder, Jamie couldn’t help chuckling under his breath. Clearing his throat, he sat up tall and turned when he felt Ian’s eyes on him.
There had to be at least a couple hundred people in the Freight at that moment, but now it felt as though Ian and he were the only people there.
“Ready whenever you are,” Ian said, looking at Jamie expectantly.
“This is a song about exes and smoking weed.” Jamie paused when Carrie let out a big whooping sound. “It’s also about being young and fucking up a good thing,” he said, pointedly glancing at Ian. “We’re probably going to be struck down for singing Wilco and Ryan Adams back-to-back, but we’ll risk it.”
When Ian smiled at him, Jamie took a deep breath and snagged his bottle of water. He couldn’t sing with his heart in his throat, it made it hard to get the words out every time.
*
Jamie wasn’t a morning person. He could physically get out of bed, but his brain never worked until at least ten-thirty, so why he was wasting his time in Doe at eight a.m. Monday morning wasn’t readily apparent, but as far as he could tell it had something to do with his mom calling at six-thirty and waking him up. He couldn’t remember a lot of their conversation, but it had something to do with Olivia and Christmas, and he would have to call her back when he could remember their phone number.
He’d tried to go back to sleep, but Mrs Epstein had a sixth-sense about him being awake and she had knocked and requested he take Hamish for a walk. By the time he’d gotten back it was seven twenty-eight, and he had to face the reading he’d been putting off for weeks.
In retrospect coming up the tomb-like fifth floor or Doe didn’t seem like the best idea he’d ever had, but it was where the Philosophy majors had their assigned carrolls so they could be closer to the rare books. Anyway, he didn’t expect reading Hallucinating Foucault to take longer than a few hours, and he’d trekked to Doe because it was fifty degrees indoors all the time, and he wouldn’t fall asleep if he was freezing his ass off while he was reading. Being in California had obviously thinned his blood, because he remembered a time when he’d thought of fifty degrees as a summer temperature.
Shaking his head, he shifted in the wooden seat and tried to remember where he was on the page. The novel was interesting, but he just couldn’t focus. As far as he could tell somebody in the book had just kidnapped Foucault’s lover, or maybe that was Foucault, anyway, it was torrid in a riveting way -– or it would have been if he were interested in anything more than slumping in his chair and rolling his head from side-to-side along the back.
It felt pretty good, kind of like a neck massage; Ian always gave great neck massages, which was not what Jamie wanted to think about at that particular hour of the morning.
He wouldn’t be any better equipped to deal with think of Ian later on in the day, either, but thinking about Ian had a way of spiraling out of control until it was all consuming and that was bad.
All the time they’d been spending together was making it really hard for Jamie to understand why they’d broken up in the first place. He had wanted space, but it wasn’t as though Ian crowded him, and yes, Ian wasn’t overly demonstrative, but it wasn’t as though Jamie had ever said he wanted him to be. The more he thought about it, it seemed that he’d punished Ian for giving him exactly what he wanted -– but wasn’t that always the way of things: you never wanted what you had, and then when you threw it away, you realized what an idiot you were.
Letting out a small groan, Jamie pinched his nose and tried to decide if he really wanted to deal with the obvious -- he wanted Ian back. More importantly, it seemed like Ian wanted him back, so what the hell was the hold up apart from his stupidity?
There wasn’t one, and he was a fucking idiot.
Obviously this was what everybody had been trying to tell him. He needed to go see Ian now.
He reached out to collect his books and jumped when a guitar slammed down scant inches away from his fingers. It took Jamie a moment to get himself together; he could feel incredulousness seeping out his pores when he looked up.
“What hell were you trying to do, break my hand?” he snapped.
Ian grinned down at him and ran a hand through black spiky hair. He looked as though he’d been awake for hours, or possibly just woken up -- with the manic grin on his face it was a toss up.
“I’ve been trying to get your fucking attention,” he said, pushing the guitar and the books towards the edge of the desk and perching on the edge. “But you’re playing hard to get, and it’s starting to grate on my nerves.”
Ian’s leg hung off the side of the desk -– he was wearing dark gray All-Star sneakers. It seemed like such a strange thing for Jamie to notice that he couldn’t process the words coming out of Ian’s mouth.
“I was going to come here and court you with some Johnny Cash or some more Ryan Adams, but frankly, I’m fucking tired and my voice is a little scratchy.”
Jamie swallowed as Ian shifted on the desk and his face appeared scant inches from Jamie’s own. He had dark circles under his eyes and he hadn’t shaved. He smelled of coffee and toothpaste, a mixture that made Jamie’s dick sit up and take interest in the proceedings. “I’m tired of fucking around, Jamie, I want you back.”
Jamie opened his mouth to speak, but apparently Ian wasn’t done just yet.
“And I think you should play me something, because you’re making me suffer,” he said, sitting up and picking up the guitar by the neck he thrust it into Jamie’s arms.
Jamie looked from the guitar to Ian and then began chuckling. “I’ve been making you suffer, huh?” he said, shifting the guitar on his lap and gazing up at Ian.
Ian exhaled through his nose, and nodded. He crossed his arms across his chest, covering the slogan on the shirt he wore. “You caused me grief,” he said poking Jamie in the chest lightly to emphasise his point. “You fucking left me and left the band and then started dating some rich kid, and that hurt. Here I was trying to let you have space or what the fuck ever and you were just dicking around.”
Jamie frowned as Ian stood up and grabbed a chair from a nearby desk. “I wasn’t dicking around,” he said defensively, picking a few notes to check the tuning. “It’s college; people are entitled to fuck up a few times.”
“It’s already tuned,” Ian said, drawing the chair alongside Jamie. He sat down and shifted until he could rest his arm on the desk.
Jamie made a ‘hmm’ sound.
“I loved you, you know?” Ian said. “Actually, I still do.”
Jamie bit his lip and looked down at the guitar. Of course Ian would say that now. “You didn’t say so before.”
“You never asked.”
“I shouldn’t have to ask,” Jamie shot back.
“Touché.”
“So.”
“So.”
“So, you want something to apologize for me thinking there was someone better out there when there wasn’t?”
“Exactly.”
Jamie took a deep breath and chuckled low in his throat. Then he launched into Van Morrison’s ‘I’ll Be Your Lover, Too,’ watching Ian closely as he sang.
Ian shifted in his chair several times, resting his arm on the desk and then on his knee, but by the second verse, he was so far into Jamie’s personal space that they were breathing the same air.
Jamie strummed the wrong chord when Ian licked his lips, and he gave up all together when Ian leaned forward and kissed his forehead... and his nose... and his mouth.
“Sing later,” Ian murmured against Jamie’s lips. Jamie nodded and was thrown off-balance by Ian grabbing the neck of his graying shirt and pulling him forward.
Their mouths mashed together unceremoniously, and Jamie couldn’t really navigate around the guitar in his lap, but he groaned when Ian fisted his hair and bit his lower lip savagely.
Kissing Ian was like coming home, and Jamie whimpered as Ian’s tongue darted in and out of his mouth. The kiss was hot and slick and the guitar banged against Jamie’s chest when Ian pulled his head to the side and nipped at his earlobe and licked at his exposed throat.
“We should go home,” Ian murmured against the side of Jamie’s neck.
“Home?” Jamie twitched when Ian’s lips brushed against the shell of his ear.
“Yeah, yours, mine, someplace with a flat surface and something that could qualify as a mattress." A pause. "Someplace I can fuck you.”
Whatever noise of agreement Jamie made must’ve been good enough, because a few seconds later Ian was thrusting his books into his arms and dragging him towards the stairwell.
Jamie was the first one through the door, but he dropped his books all over the floor and spun around so quickly he almost sent Ian sprawling. “Guitar. Down,” was all he said as he grabbed the guitar out of Ian’s grasp and set it out of harm’s way.
“In the stairwell, Jay? We’ve never tried this before.” Ian’s tone was all lightness and mockery, but his eyes were dark when Jamie shoved him against the concrete wall, and they narrowed further when he grabbed Jamie by the hips and spun them around so that Jamie was the one against the wall.
Jamie was going to say something about being adventurous, but lost his train of thought when Ian leaned forward and instead of kissing him, pushed his head to the side again and nipped hard at the skin below his left ear. “What the hell, are you a vampire now?” he said.
“Shut up,” Ian murmured into his neck.
“Bastard.” Jamie busied himself with getting under the layers of shirts Ian wore, and he made an indescribable noise when he realized that Ian was licking and sucking at the same spot because he was giving him a goddamn hickey.
Jamie was being marked. It was actually pretty hot.
He felt Ian twitch when he finally found access to Ian’s skin underneath the third shirt he wore, and he turned his head when Ian pulled his mouth away and kissed him again, using his tongue to steal most of Jamie’s air and all his coherency.
Ian’s hands fisted in his hair again as he held Jamie’s head at one angle and stroked Jamie’s tongue with his own. Jamie opened his eyes briefly to look, and took a shuddering breath through his nose when he saw Ian staring back at him with his eyes wide open.
There was something really fucking hot about Ian watching Jamie watching him, but the best thing about making out with Ian was that Jamie already knew how to push all his buttons, so when he dragged his nails down Ian’s back and worked his leg between Ian’s thighs, it all was done because he knew was Ian liked.
He pulled away because he couldn’t breathe, but he groaned when Ian’s grip tightened in his hair and he began thrusting against Jamie’s hip and forcing him to rub against Ian and the wall.
Ian was grunting in his ear as Jamie’s hands worked between Ian’s jeans and his boxers, Jamie was going to say something about being rubbed raw, but he forgot about it when Ian let go of his hair and began scrabbling with the fly of his jeans.
Their knuckles banged together as each fumbled with the other’s jeans, and Jamie cursed when Ian knocked his hands away and made short work of both pairs of jeans. He didn’t even bother pushing down Jamie’s jeans instead choosing to reach through the opening of his boxers and pull out his dick.
Jamie banged his head against the wall at the sureness of Ian’s grip and winced. He glared at Ian when he laughed and then gave Ian’s dick a bruising squeeze through his boxers.
Ian groaned and let go of Jamie’s dick long enough to bring his hand up to Jamie’s mouth. “Spit.”
Jamie banged his head against the wall a second time when Ian’s hand closed around both their cocks and he began avidly jerking them off. Ian’s hands were huge, and the way the callouses on his fingers were rubbing the head of Jamie’s cock was going to take years off Jamie’s life.
Stuck between Ian and the wall, Jamie scrabbled at the wall and then at Ian, grabbing his hips and pulling him closer as Ian stroked them off.
They kissed again, but it was erratic and messy. Jamie couldn’t stop gasping, and Ian was too busy talking about all the school buildings they were going to have to have sex in from now on.
The boxers were in his way, but Jamie managed to get a firm grip on Ian’s ass, and he could feel the sweat forming on Ian’s skin. Pulling Ian as close as possible without totally stopping their handjob, Jamie’s fingers slipped into the crease of Ian’s ass and Ian shouted in his ear when one of Jamie's fingers breached him dry.
Jamie grunted as Ian collapsed against him, but Ian kept stroking until Jamie came in the circle of his hand, and Jamie gasped for air as Ian panted against his temple. “Next time you want a break, just ask for it.”
“Fine,” Jamie said, extracting himself from Ian. “I want a break now so I can fucking breathe.”
Ian pulled away and wiped his hand on his boxers ruefully. “You know what I mean, Blondie.”
“Yeah. I do.”
“I do, too.” Ian’s smile was huge, and Jamie bit his lip and smiled back.
“This doesn’t automatically fix everything,” Ian said fastening his jeans and rearranging his clothes.
“You don’t fucking say,” Jamie snarked as he stuck his dick back in his boxers and pulled up his jeans. He hit his head for the third time when Ian shoved him back against the wall.
“If I get a concussion from all this rough-housing, I’m telling my mom,” he said, pointedly looking from the hand on his chest back to Ian.
“And I’ll tell her that you were being a shit and trying to sell me some solipsistic bullshit about how you were trying to find yourself.”
Jamie frowned. “You know she hates that ‘none of us are really here’ shit.”
Ian smirked. “Exactly.”
Ian’s hand slipped down Jamie’s chest and he hooked his fingers into the belt loops of Jamie’s jeans. “How about we just try this the old-fashioned way?”
“I’m not bringing you flowers.”
“I’m allergic.”
“Exactly.”
“Well then.”
“That’s not my point and you know it.” Ian yanked Jamie forward so that he was forced to grab Ian’s shoulder or pitch forward onto his face. “I want us to work out. I want you to be my partner, and if you need space to do whatever that’s fucking fine, but you can’t just leave me because you feel like it.”
Jamie raised an eyebrow. “The same goes for you.”
“I never left you.”
“Yeah, but it means you have to fucking talk to me on occasion, you know, tell me what the hell is on your mind.”
Ian’s head dropped onto Jamie’s shoulder dramatically. “Have you been watching Oprah?” again he said into the collar of Jamie’s shirt.
“That’s not the point,” Jamie said defensively. “The point is that if this co-dependent, dysfunctional, fucked up relationship is going to work – if you love me like you say you do, then you’ve got to treat me like your equal. You think you can do that?”
Ian lifted his head and pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Does that mean I don’t have to buy you any more diapers?”
“You’re disgusting.”
Jamie tried to shove him away, but Ian held fast, and licked his upper lip. “Yeah. I know.”
“And you’re twisted.”
“I know.”
“And you are so fucking difficult sometimes!”
“Excuse me? Am I the one who had to have some quarter-life crisis just to realize my boyfriend really loved me? Yeah, I don’t think so.”
Jamie colored slightly. “Point taken.”
Ian kissed Jamie quickly on the cheek before pulling away. “Thought so -- and hurry up and get dressed,” he said picking up Jamie’s books and his guitar. “This is a public library, you never know who might come along and accost you in a place like this.”
Jamie laughed as he arranged his clothing in some semblance of order. “Yeah, the things that go through some people’s heads,” he said. “You just wouldn’t believe.”
-theenddammit-
Author's Notes:
This section has been an extraordinarily long time in coming, I know, but now that I finally feel that Telegraph Avenue is finished I have a lot of people to thank:
1.![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
serialkarma, I know I made you wait a year, but I hope it was worth it. Thank you from the bottom of my depraved heart for going through this the first time around. As A will attest, 138 pages is a hell of a lot of story to read.
2.lalejandra, because you are always down for whatever, whenever and it just doesn't get any better than that. I still can’t believe you re-read the story just to make this that much better – you SO fucking rock. Wow. Thank you.
3.ethrosdemon -- even though you punked me on this part, it’s impossible for me to player-hate, cos you’re always there when I’m in a jam. Get on a goddamn schedule! Love you.
4. Thank you to every last person who read TA when it first came out and let me know how much they loved it, or how much they thought it sucked or whatever it was. I do appreciate it, and if you flamed me, you're probably dead now, so you don't matter.
5. Casting really is really how I visualize, and Ryan Gosling has been such a great Jamie that when I see him in movies all I can think is ‘Jamie!’ Carrie was a great mixture of Janeane Garofalo andethrosdemon, and the rather belligerent Prince Harry is Rusty, everybody's favorite TA. And last but never ever least, the role of the very lovely and rather hot Ian Hurley has been played by Desmond Harrington.
6. Title for this section was taken from the Beastie Boys, because I can’t believe I forgot the Beasties in the original TA. Dude, it’s the friggin *Beasties*. Badhackthis, no cookie.
7. And because no TA section is complete without a soundtrack here are the choice tunes:
Check Your Head LP - The Beastie Boys; Underdog (Save Me) - Turin Brakes; Lost Highway - Hank Williams (covered by Jeff Buckley); Wild Horses - The Rolling Stones; I Am Trying to Break Your Heart - Wilco; To Be Young (is to be Sad, is to be High) – Ryan Adams; Six White Horses -Johnny Cash; AMY - Ryan Adams; I’ll Be Your Lover, Too - Van Morrison
There were a million things about Ian that Jamie really liked. He liked that Ian spoke four different languages, and only went into International Affairs because he wanted to do something with all the curse words he’d learned while he was modeling. He liked that Ian made a point of driving home to San Diego once a month to give his little brothers surfing lessons. He probably fell in love with Ian because of how passionate he was about everything he did -– but that didn’t make up for the way Ian tended to assume that Jamie agreed with him about everything unless Jamie said otherwise.
Jamie also hated it when Ian stole all the covers in bed and how he always tended to be right about people. He hated that Ian could figure out what he was thinking without him saying it, and most of all, he hated Ian’s cowboy boots.
They were hideous, and scuffed up, and parked outside his apartment when he came home from his Advanced Japanese tutorial.
Jamie rubbed at his eyes as they traveled from boots to jeans to black leather jacket and dark green scarf. That was his fucking scarf, too. No wonder he could never find any of his clothing; Ian had it all.
He took the last step to the landing slowly, and a sigh emerged from somewhere in his throat. He had a thousand questions. Why are you here? How long have you been waiting? Isn’t your ass numb from sitting out here in the cold? Are you here for sex? I’m not letting you in if you are, but are you?
“Why do you still have these goddamn boots?” popped out.
Ian gave him a broad grin as he came closer to his apartment. “Because I like’em,” he said, banging the heel against the concrete floor.
“They’re just –- man, those are so fucking ugly.”
Ian grinned ruefully. “Well, I like’em. They’re part of my ode to Brokeback Mountain.”
Jamie rolled his eyes, pausing just next to Ian to locate his keys. “You’re never going to get over the time Heath Ledger came to that San Diego gig, are you?”
“He eyefucked you,” Ian said. “What do you think?”
“It sounds like somebody was jealous.”
Ian made a noise of derision. “Whatever. This isn’t Kansas anymore, Dorothy.”
Jamie looked down at Ian and then up at his door. After a moment of hesitation, he placed a foot on either side of Ian’s hips and began flipping through the keys on his ring. He was playing with fire by having his crotch this close to Ian’s face, and clearly his cock thought so, because he began to get hard.
“Is that another gay joke?” he asked, thankful for the wool coat that covered up what was happening in his jeans. “Because, you know, those got kind of old after the first fifty times we fucked.”
Jamie looked down when he felt Ian’s hand wrap around his ankle. “Wanna see how you feel after number fifty-one?” Ian looked up at Jamie as he slipped his hand underneath the hem of Jamie’s jeans and rubbed his ankle through his sock.
Ian was molesting his ankle. He was clearly insane. More importantly though, Jamie’s dick apparently saw this as foreplay, and he exhaled a shaky breath before smiling. “No, thanks.”
“You can’t blame a guy for trying,” Ian said, slipping his hand higher on Jamie’s ankle until he came in contact with bare skin. The palm of Ian’s hand was cold, and Jamie shivered. His growing erection was not helping his ability to think.
“When you’re finished with molesting my ankle, you can come in,” he said, slipping his key into the lock and turning the deadbolt. “I mean, unless you want to stay out here and get hemorrhoids on your ass. It’s up to you.”
Ian was up and standing behind Jamie a lot faster than he expected. He’d forgotten how fast Ian could be sometimes; it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, and he twitched when he felt Ian’s warm breath against the back of his neck.
“C’mon, Jamie.” Ian’s voice was entirely too low and husky, but all he said was, “Let’s get moving.”
Jamie took his hand away from the key and turned around sharply. Ian was entirely too close; they almost knocked heads. “There will be no seduction attempts today, are we clear?”
Jamie spoke more to his body than to Ian, but Ian nodded, blue eyes bright. “Right.”
“I’m serious.” Ian had seven freckles on his nose. Jamie hadn’t seen them so closely in a long time.
“You always are.”
Jamie tried to frown and failed. “Why did we break up again?” He blinked as the words fell from his lips thoughtlessly, and Ian gave him a small smile.
“I don’t know. I always thought you'd tell me.”
Jamie bit his lip. This had been his decision. He had been the one who said it wasn’t working out for him. He had been the one to walk away, but Ian had just let him. He’d just let him go; he hadn’t even tried to stop him. What the hell was that all about?
His brain wasn’t giving him any answers. It was freaking him out.
“I hope you got the time you needed,” Ian said finally.
Jamie just nodded. He didn’t even realize Ian had kissed him on the cheek until he was walking away.
“Where the hell are you going?” Jamie’s voice was entirely too loud in the night.
“I’m trying to give you what you wanted.”
“What do you mean, what I wanted?”
“You wanted space.”
“No, you said I wanted space.”
“Was I wrong?’
“What? No...no. But that’s not the point.”
“Uh huh.”
“What the fuck -- that was eight months ago!” Jamie shouted. “I hate you sometimes.”
Ian paused at the top of the stairs and turned back. “Yeah, I love you too.”
The music in the Urban Outfitters off of Bancroft always gave Jamie a headache. Either that or it made him think he should be out of his mind on Ecstasy and drawing pictures with fingerpaint. He could never afford anything in the damn store either, except for whatever Carrie got for him with her employee discount.
Jamie nodded to the woman at the door as he entered the store and immediately headed for the shoe section, where he found Carrie nodding as some chick tottered back and forth on Lucite heels.
Carrie was pulling at the hem of her electric-blue shirt in boredom, and Jamie hung back as the girl consulted with her friend on the merits of clear-stacked shoes to go with her outfit for some party. When Carrie saw him she rolled her eyes so hard Jamie thought they might get stuck in her head.
She said something to the girl in the platforms and came over to where Jamie was studying the latest crop of sneakers. “I know some girl who can get you those really cheap,” she said with a wink.
“Did they fall off the back of a truck?” Jamie asked, holding up a pair of maroon and aqua Adidas for inspection.
Carrie wrinkled her nose and took them out his hand. “You are so fashion challenged,” she said handing him a pair of Asics instead.
“At least I’m not buying stripper shoes,” Jamie said in a low voice.
Carrie covered her mouth as she snickered and then played it off by pushing her short black-and-blue hair behind her right ear. “My shift is over, but if you need anything else, Leila can help you,” she said over her shoulder to the future-porn star.
“Who’s Lee-la?” the girl asked.
“The girl with the striped stockings and the nose ring,” Carrie said pointing out an Amazon with red hair across the store.
The girl blinked.
“Good luck,” Carrie said, grabbing Jamie by the sleeve of his jacket and dragging him to the entrance.
“I’m so done,” she announced handing a badge of some sort to her co-worker at the front door.
“I hear that, honey,” said the woman at the doorway. Jamie tripped over his feet slightly as he realized the woman at the door was actually not a woman at all.
Carrie took a sharp left down Bancroft, and Jamie jogged to keep up. How she managed to walk so fast in combat boots with thick soles was beyond him.
“A little anxious to get off work?” he asked as Carrie pulled her shirt over her head, uncovering a bright pink and orange shirt that said ‘Existentialists Aren’t Really Here.”
“If I didn’t need the money, I’d so burn that place down,” she said, handing Jamie her sweater and patting down her pockets. “I need smokes. We must get me smokes.”
“So you can burn the place down?” Jamie asked, dodging a biker and a rollerblader as they stopped at the Oxford intersection.
“Tempting, but no,” Carrie said. “Let’s go to Walgreens. I need tampons.”
Jamie blinked, but thought better of saying anything. Instead he focused on the Hare Krishnas across the street.
“So, I hear you’ve been strumming Ian’s guitar,” Carrie said, taking off at a brisk stride as the light changed. It took Jamie several seconds to process what she said, and she was already half way across the street before he caught up.
“You heard what?”
Carrie shot him a blinding grin as they reached the other side of Oxford and continued down Bancroft. “Rusty told me you guys have been practicing together,” she said.
“Oh, well, yeah,” Jamie said.
Carrie stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and turned to face him sharply; Jamie was almost mowed down by the person walking behind them. “Why did I have to hear about it second hand?” she asked, putting her hands on her hips and looking up at him. Considering she was only 5’2, she could be really menacing.
“That’s fucked up, Jay. I thought we were friends. Why did I have to hear you’re fucking Ian from Rusty? It’s not like I don’t see you three times a week in Existentialist Crises; you could’ve just told me.”
Carrie’s glower was truly a scary thing, and Jamie could feel the look of disbelief spreading across his face. “I’m not fucking Ian!” he said loudly, bringing his voice down when he realized people were staring at him. “I’m not,” he protested in a lower tone.
Carried nodded. “Uh huh,” she said pursing her lips.
“I’m not.”
“Riiiight,” Carrie said as she started walking again.
“I can’t help it if you don’t believe me,” Jamie said, glancing at Carrie as they walked side-by-side.
“Okay, maybe you’re not really fucking Ian,” Carrie conceded as they took a right on Shattuck. “But he wants you back really badly, you know that, right?”
Jamie took a deep breath and then exhaled for a long time. “He wants to fuck,” he said rubbing his forehead, “that’s different.”
Carrie made a snorting noise. “Okay, he probably wants that too, but seriously, he wants you back.”
Jamie shook his head. “He just freaked out because I was seeing Seth.”
“No, he’s been freaking out since you left him.”
“Whatever.”
Carrie stopped outside Walgreens. “Fine, don’t believe me. It’s your life.”
Jamie sighed. “Are you high?”
Carrie grinned. “No, but we could be.”
Jamie laughed.
“Wanna smoke up and go grocery shopping at the Ralph’s in Rockridge?” she said.
Jamie licked lips and pretended to look thoughtful.
Carrie rolled her eyes. “C’mon idiot, I’ll get smokes and then we’ll go to my place. Maybe if we time it right we can get Rusty after he’s done with his Abnormal Psych class.”
The backdoor of the Freight was locked.
Jamie had been playing there every other week for eight months and the backdoor was never locked. It had nothing to do with health hazards and fire codes; the owner, Marty, was a compulsive smoker who had to have a cigarette in the back alley every forty-two minutes (he had been timed), and if the back door was locked… Well, Jamie didn’t know what that meant.
Shifting his guitar from one hand to the other, he walked back to the street and then around to the front of the building. There were people milling around the entrance, and Pete was sitting on his tiny stool at the front door, holding his clipboard just like every other night.
“What’s up, big man?” Pete said getting to his feet and nodding at Jamie approvingly. Pete called everyone big man -- ironic considering he was 6’4 and 300 pounds, and Jamie could hear strains of music and applause coming from inside, which was a little strange, considering that Marty never liked double-bills.
“Am I out of job or something?” Jamie asked, gesturing towards the door.
Pete laughed. “Not likely, big man, just some hack in there wailing away. You know what a bleeding heart Marty is.”
“I bet you say the same thing about me,” Jamie said as opened the door and walked in. He could still hear Pete’s eardrum rattling laugh on the other side of the glass, and he was slightly taken aback when his eyes adjusted to the darkness and he realized that the Freight was packed.
Whoever it was must have been some hack.
There was laughter and whispering all around Jamie, and he tried not to disrupt too many people as he worked his way towards the stage. He stopped dead in his tracks when he heard Jeff Tweedy’s voice ringing in his ears.
Wilco wouldn’t be playing at the Freight, but Ian would.
Jamie’s stomach began to knot as Ian’s voice filled his ears and he began to sing about American aquarium drinkers. He couldn’t really tell how long he stood there listening to Ian sing ‘I Am Trying to Break Your Heart’ but he was yanked out his reverie by a hand clamping down on his arm and tugging him forward.
It took him a minute to identify the black hair and the vice-like grip, but he would know the orange nails anywhere, and he stumbled as Carrie dragged him through the crowd. His guitar case had to be assaulting the people behind him at an alarming rate, and he felt a bit bad about that.
It had been a long time since Jamie had been on the other side of the stage, and he rocked back slightly on his heels as Ian’s head turned in his direction and their eyes locked.
Jamie only realized the song had ended when the people around him clapped, and Ian never looked away even as he bent down and picked up his water. Taking a sip, he leaned forward into the microphone. “Hallelujah, you’ve been saved! The real talent’s here.”
Jamie stumbled again as someone behind him pushed him directly onto the stage. He squinted as he turned into the spotlight; he couldn’t see a damn thing except Ian.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like you to meet my favorite singer in the entire world,” Ian kept one eye on Jamie and another on the crowd. “My ex-boyfriend.”
Jamie looked from Ian to the crowd, and as his eyes adjusted he could make out Carrie and Rusty standing front and center. He shouldn’t have been surprised, but he missed whatever it was that Ian said next that made the crowd go ‘aww.’
“Are you gonna sit down or are you doing your tree routine?” Ian turned in his chair and cocked his head to the side, and it was rather obvious from his tone and the way Carrie crossed her arms when Jamie looked at her that he didn’t have much choice.
Slipping onto the chair next to Ian, he set his guitar case at his feet and opened it. He could hear Ian talking to the audience as he tuned his guitar and got himself together. He only looked up when he was ready, and he smiled when he saw Seth standing near the corner of the stage.
When Seth shifted and Ryan appeared directly over his shoulder, Jamie couldn’t help chuckling under his breath. Clearing his throat, he sat up tall and turned when he felt Ian’s eyes on him.
There had to be at least a couple hundred people in the Freight at that moment, but now it felt as though Ian and he were the only people there.
“Ready whenever you are,” Ian said, looking at Jamie expectantly.
“This is a song about exes and smoking weed.” Jamie paused when Carrie let out a big whooping sound. “It’s also about being young and fucking up a good thing,” he said, pointedly glancing at Ian. “We’re probably going to be struck down for singing Wilco and Ryan Adams back-to-back, but we’ll risk it.”
When Ian smiled at him, Jamie took a deep breath and snagged his bottle of water. He couldn’t sing with his heart in his throat, it made it hard to get the words out every time.
Jamie wasn’t a morning person. He could physically get out of bed, but his brain never worked until at least ten-thirty, so why he was wasting his time in Doe at eight a.m. Monday morning wasn’t readily apparent, but as far as he could tell it had something to do with his mom calling at six-thirty and waking him up. He couldn’t remember a lot of their conversation, but it had something to do with Olivia and Christmas, and he would have to call her back when he could remember their phone number.
He’d tried to go back to sleep, but Mrs Epstein had a sixth-sense about him being awake and she had knocked and requested he take Hamish for a walk. By the time he’d gotten back it was seven twenty-eight, and he had to face the reading he’d been putting off for weeks.
In retrospect coming up the tomb-like fifth floor or Doe didn’t seem like the best idea he’d ever had, but it was where the Philosophy majors had their assigned carrolls so they could be closer to the rare books. Anyway, he didn’t expect reading Hallucinating Foucault to take longer than a few hours, and he’d trekked to Doe because it was fifty degrees indoors all the time, and he wouldn’t fall asleep if he was freezing his ass off while he was reading. Being in California had obviously thinned his blood, because he remembered a time when he’d thought of fifty degrees as a summer temperature.
Shaking his head, he shifted in the wooden seat and tried to remember where he was on the page. The novel was interesting, but he just couldn’t focus. As far as he could tell somebody in the book had just kidnapped Foucault’s lover, or maybe that was Foucault, anyway, it was torrid in a riveting way -– or it would have been if he were interested in anything more than slumping in his chair and rolling his head from side-to-side along the back.
It felt pretty good, kind of like a neck massage; Ian always gave great neck massages, which was not what Jamie wanted to think about at that particular hour of the morning.
He wouldn’t be any better equipped to deal with think of Ian later on in the day, either, but thinking about Ian had a way of spiraling out of control until it was all consuming and that was bad.
All the time they’d been spending together was making it really hard for Jamie to understand why they’d broken up in the first place. He had wanted space, but it wasn’t as though Ian crowded him, and yes, Ian wasn’t overly demonstrative, but it wasn’t as though Jamie had ever said he wanted him to be. The more he thought about it, it seemed that he’d punished Ian for giving him exactly what he wanted -– but wasn’t that always the way of things: you never wanted what you had, and then when you threw it away, you realized what an idiot you were.
Letting out a small groan, Jamie pinched his nose and tried to decide if he really wanted to deal with the obvious -- he wanted Ian back. More importantly, it seemed like Ian wanted him back, so what the hell was the hold up apart from his stupidity?
There wasn’t one, and he was a fucking idiot.
Obviously this was what everybody had been trying to tell him. He needed to go see Ian now.
He reached out to collect his books and jumped when a guitar slammed down scant inches away from his fingers. It took Jamie a moment to get himself together; he could feel incredulousness seeping out his pores when he looked up.
“What hell were you trying to do, break my hand?” he snapped.
Ian grinned down at him and ran a hand through black spiky hair. He looked as though he’d been awake for hours, or possibly just woken up -- with the manic grin on his face it was a toss up.
“I’ve been trying to get your fucking attention,” he said, pushing the guitar and the books towards the edge of the desk and perching on the edge. “But you’re playing hard to get, and it’s starting to grate on my nerves.”
Ian’s leg hung off the side of the desk -– he was wearing dark gray All-Star sneakers. It seemed like such a strange thing for Jamie to notice that he couldn’t process the words coming out of Ian’s mouth.
“I was going to come here and court you with some Johnny Cash or some more Ryan Adams, but frankly, I’m fucking tired and my voice is a little scratchy.”
Jamie swallowed as Ian shifted on the desk and his face appeared scant inches from Jamie’s own. He had dark circles under his eyes and he hadn’t shaved. He smelled of coffee and toothpaste, a mixture that made Jamie’s dick sit up and take interest in the proceedings. “I’m tired of fucking around, Jamie, I want you back.”
Jamie opened his mouth to speak, but apparently Ian wasn’t done just yet.
“And I think you should play me something, because you’re making me suffer,” he said, sitting up and picking up the guitar by the neck he thrust it into Jamie’s arms.
Jamie looked from the guitar to Ian and then began chuckling. “I’ve been making you suffer, huh?” he said, shifting the guitar on his lap and gazing up at Ian.
Ian exhaled through his nose, and nodded. He crossed his arms across his chest, covering the slogan on the shirt he wore. “You caused me grief,” he said poking Jamie in the chest lightly to emphasise his point. “You fucking left me and left the band and then started dating some rich kid, and that hurt. Here I was trying to let you have space or what the fuck ever and you were just dicking around.”
Jamie frowned as Ian stood up and grabbed a chair from a nearby desk. “I wasn’t dicking around,” he said defensively, picking a few notes to check the tuning. “It’s college; people are entitled to fuck up a few times.”
“It’s already tuned,” Ian said, drawing the chair alongside Jamie. He sat down and shifted until he could rest his arm on the desk.
Jamie made a ‘hmm’ sound.
“I loved you, you know?” Ian said. “Actually, I still do.”
Jamie bit his lip and looked down at the guitar. Of course Ian would say that now. “You didn’t say so before.”
“You never asked.”
“I shouldn’t have to ask,” Jamie shot back.
“Touché.”
“So.”
“So.”
“So, you want something to apologize for me thinking there was someone better out there when there wasn’t?”
“Exactly.”
Jamie took a deep breath and chuckled low in his throat. Then he launched into Van Morrison’s ‘I’ll Be Your Lover, Too,’ watching Ian closely as he sang.
Ian shifted in his chair several times, resting his arm on the desk and then on his knee, but by the second verse, he was so far into Jamie’s personal space that they were breathing the same air.
Jamie strummed the wrong chord when Ian licked his lips, and he gave up all together when Ian leaned forward and kissed his forehead... and his nose... and his mouth.
“Sing later,” Ian murmured against Jamie’s lips. Jamie nodded and was thrown off-balance by Ian grabbing the neck of his graying shirt and pulling him forward.
Their mouths mashed together unceremoniously, and Jamie couldn’t really navigate around the guitar in his lap, but he groaned when Ian fisted his hair and bit his lower lip savagely.
Kissing Ian was like coming home, and Jamie whimpered as Ian’s tongue darted in and out of his mouth. The kiss was hot and slick and the guitar banged against Jamie’s chest when Ian pulled his head to the side and nipped at his earlobe and licked at his exposed throat.
“We should go home,” Ian murmured against the side of Jamie’s neck.
“Home?” Jamie twitched when Ian’s lips brushed against the shell of his ear.
“Yeah, yours, mine, someplace with a flat surface and something that could qualify as a mattress." A pause. "Someplace I can fuck you.”
Whatever noise of agreement Jamie made must’ve been good enough, because a few seconds later Ian was thrusting his books into his arms and dragging him towards the stairwell.
Jamie was the first one through the door, but he dropped his books all over the floor and spun around so quickly he almost sent Ian sprawling. “Guitar. Down,” was all he said as he grabbed the guitar out of Ian’s grasp and set it out of harm’s way.
“In the stairwell, Jay? We’ve never tried this before.” Ian’s tone was all lightness and mockery, but his eyes were dark when Jamie shoved him against the concrete wall, and they narrowed further when he grabbed Jamie by the hips and spun them around so that Jamie was the one against the wall.
Jamie was going to say something about being adventurous, but lost his train of thought when Ian leaned forward and instead of kissing him, pushed his head to the side again and nipped hard at the skin below his left ear. “What the hell, are you a vampire now?” he said.
“Shut up,” Ian murmured into his neck.
“Bastard.” Jamie busied himself with getting under the layers of shirts Ian wore, and he made an indescribable noise when he realized that Ian was licking and sucking at the same spot because he was giving him a goddamn hickey.
Jamie was being marked. It was actually pretty hot.
He felt Ian twitch when he finally found access to Ian’s skin underneath the third shirt he wore, and he turned his head when Ian pulled his mouth away and kissed him again, using his tongue to steal most of Jamie’s air and all his coherency.
Ian’s hands fisted in his hair again as he held Jamie’s head at one angle and stroked Jamie’s tongue with his own. Jamie opened his eyes briefly to look, and took a shuddering breath through his nose when he saw Ian staring back at him with his eyes wide open.
There was something really fucking hot about Ian watching Jamie watching him, but the best thing about making out with Ian was that Jamie already knew how to push all his buttons, so when he dragged his nails down Ian’s back and worked his leg between Ian’s thighs, it all was done because he knew was Ian liked.
He pulled away because he couldn’t breathe, but he groaned when Ian’s grip tightened in his hair and he began thrusting against Jamie’s hip and forcing him to rub against Ian and the wall.
Ian was grunting in his ear as Jamie’s hands worked between Ian’s jeans and his boxers, Jamie was going to say something about being rubbed raw, but he forgot about it when Ian let go of his hair and began scrabbling with the fly of his jeans.
Their knuckles banged together as each fumbled with the other’s jeans, and Jamie cursed when Ian knocked his hands away and made short work of both pairs of jeans. He didn’t even bother pushing down Jamie’s jeans instead choosing to reach through the opening of his boxers and pull out his dick.
Jamie banged his head against the wall at the sureness of Ian’s grip and winced. He glared at Ian when he laughed and then gave Ian’s dick a bruising squeeze through his boxers.
Ian groaned and let go of Jamie’s dick long enough to bring his hand up to Jamie’s mouth. “Spit.”
Jamie banged his head against the wall a second time when Ian’s hand closed around both their cocks and he began avidly jerking them off. Ian’s hands were huge, and the way the callouses on his fingers were rubbing the head of Jamie’s cock was going to take years off Jamie’s life.
Stuck between Ian and the wall, Jamie scrabbled at the wall and then at Ian, grabbing his hips and pulling him closer as Ian stroked them off.
They kissed again, but it was erratic and messy. Jamie couldn’t stop gasping, and Ian was too busy talking about all the school buildings they were going to have to have sex in from now on.
The boxers were in his way, but Jamie managed to get a firm grip on Ian’s ass, and he could feel the sweat forming on Ian’s skin. Pulling Ian as close as possible without totally stopping their handjob, Jamie’s fingers slipped into the crease of Ian’s ass and Ian shouted in his ear when one of Jamie's fingers breached him dry.
Jamie grunted as Ian collapsed against him, but Ian kept stroking until Jamie came in the circle of his hand, and Jamie gasped for air as Ian panted against his temple. “Next time you want a break, just ask for it.”
“Fine,” Jamie said, extracting himself from Ian. “I want a break now so I can fucking breathe.”
Ian pulled away and wiped his hand on his boxers ruefully. “You know what I mean, Blondie.”
“Yeah. I do.”
“I do, too.” Ian’s smile was huge, and Jamie bit his lip and smiled back.
“This doesn’t automatically fix everything,” Ian said fastening his jeans and rearranging his clothes.
“You don’t fucking say,” Jamie snarked as he stuck his dick back in his boxers and pulled up his jeans. He hit his head for the third time when Ian shoved him back against the wall.
“If I get a concussion from all this rough-housing, I’m telling my mom,” he said, pointedly looking from the hand on his chest back to Ian.
“And I’ll tell her that you were being a shit and trying to sell me some solipsistic bullshit about how you were trying to find yourself.”
Jamie frowned. “You know she hates that ‘none of us are really here’ shit.”
Ian smirked. “Exactly.”
Ian’s hand slipped down Jamie’s chest and he hooked his fingers into the belt loops of Jamie’s jeans. “How about we just try this the old-fashioned way?”
“I’m not bringing you flowers.”
“I’m allergic.”
“Exactly.”
“Well then.”
“That’s not my point and you know it.” Ian yanked Jamie forward so that he was forced to grab Ian’s shoulder or pitch forward onto his face. “I want us to work out. I want you to be my partner, and if you need space to do whatever that’s fucking fine, but you can’t just leave me because you feel like it.”
Jamie raised an eyebrow. “The same goes for you.”
“I never left you.”
“Yeah, but it means you have to fucking talk to me on occasion, you know, tell me what the hell is on your mind.”
Ian’s head dropped onto Jamie’s shoulder dramatically. “Have you been watching Oprah?” again he said into the collar of Jamie’s shirt.
“That’s not the point,” Jamie said defensively. “The point is that if this co-dependent, dysfunctional, fucked up relationship is going to work – if you love me like you say you do, then you’ve got to treat me like your equal. You think you can do that?”
Ian lifted his head and pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Does that mean I don’t have to buy you any more diapers?”
“You’re disgusting.”
Jamie tried to shove him away, but Ian held fast, and licked his upper lip. “Yeah. I know.”
“And you’re twisted.”
“I know.”
“And you are so fucking difficult sometimes!”
“Excuse me? Am I the one who had to have some quarter-life crisis just to realize my boyfriend really loved me? Yeah, I don’t think so.”
Jamie colored slightly. “Point taken.”
Ian kissed Jamie quickly on the cheek before pulling away. “Thought so -- and hurry up and get dressed,” he said picking up Jamie’s books and his guitar. “This is a public library, you never know who might come along and accost you in a place like this.”
Jamie laughed as he arranged his clothing in some semblance of order. “Yeah, the things that go through some people’s heads,” he said. “You just wouldn’t believe.”
-theenddammit-
Author's Notes:
This section has been an extraordinarily long time in coming, I know, but now that I finally feel that Telegraph Avenue is finished I have a lot of people to thank:
1.
serialkarma, I know I made you wait a year, but I hope it was worth it. Thank you from the bottom of my depraved heart for going through this the first time around. As A will attest, 138 pages is a hell of a lot of story to read.2.
lalejandra, because you are always down for whatever, whenever and it just doesn't get any better than that. I still can’t believe you re-read the story just to make this that much better – you SO fucking rock. Wow. Thank you.3.
ethrosdemon -- even though you punked me on this part, it’s impossible for me to player-hate, cos you’re always there when I’m in a jam. Get on a goddamn schedule! Love you.4. Thank you to every last person who read TA when it first came out and let me know how much they loved it, or how much they thought it sucked or whatever it was. I do appreciate it, and if you flamed me, you're probably dead now, so you don't matter.
5. Casting really is really how I visualize, and Ryan Gosling has been such a great Jamie that when I see him in movies all I can think is ‘Jamie!’ Carrie was a great mixture of Janeane Garofalo and
ethrosdemon, and the rather belligerent Prince Harry is Rusty, everybody's favorite TA. And last but never ever least, the role of the very lovely and rather hot Ian Hurley has been played by Desmond Harrington.6. Title for this section was taken from the Beastie Boys, because I can’t believe I forgot the Beasties in the original TA. Dude, it’s the friggin *Beasties*. Bad
hackthis, no cookie.7. And because no TA section is complete without a soundtrack here are the choice tunes:
Check Your Head LP - The Beastie Boys; Underdog (Save Me) - Turin Brakes; Lost Highway - Hank Williams (covered by Jeff Buckley); Wild Horses - The Rolling Stones; I Am Trying to Break Your Heart - Wilco; To Be Young (is to be Sad, is to be High) – Ryan Adams; Six White Horses -Johnny Cash; AMY - Ryan Adams; I’ll Be Your Lover, Too - Van Morrison
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Date: 2004-11-04 11:13 am (UTC)