#dubceks

Johnny is shy, and Gideon understands. They haven't exactly had some big, in-depth conversation on either of their hang-ups, and he's careful not to overdo the affection he shows him, but something tells the man that Johnny hasn't felt affection from men in a long time, or he didn't know what to do with it. Whatever it was, Gideon was sure he'd tell him eventually, if this was going to keep being a thing. He wanted it to be, wanted to watch Johnny's hair start going grey as they fell asleep together night after night, year after year. He wanted Johnny to be happy, and whatever it took to make that happen was more than worth the reward of seeing him smile. 

His hands are a product of his work, which is stunning but melancholy. He chooses not to read into it too deeply, because he'd rather hear confirmation from Johnny's mouth, not his canvasses. "Your hands have been busy, t'ja. Did you create something beautiful today?" All of his art was, to Gideon, but he liked encouraging Johnny to talk about it, it seemed to help him come out of that shell made of oversized sweaters and self-loathing. 

To say that Carl hasn’t been looking Johnny’s way would be a lie. But he had never for a moment thought of acting on anything he may have felt. He cared about Johnny, and the boy was so shy. Carl was careful around him, quiet, respectful. He gave him room to breathe, and checked on him a few times a day to be sure no one was bothering him. And he clamped down on the odd feelings he had whenever they crept up, because Johnny shouldn’t be bothered about this kind of thing. He needed time and space more than anything right now.

But apparently Johnny was feeling safe with Carl, because all of a sudden -- Carl got the very last thing he would ever expect from his adorable roommate.

Johnny is soft and delicate, and Carl realizes that he never should have expected anything else. Carl’s stomach fills with butterfly wings, and he can’t quite help the little smile that settles on his face. He rests his hand lightly on Johnny’s arm, very gently. Trying to encourage him not to pull away too fast.

Gideon ducked his head, chuckled a little. “At first, yes, it can be frightening. But,” he turned more towards Johnny, smiling, “but t’hen you hear when t’he whole crowd goes silent, and sometimes you can see if you make someone cry with a sad song--not t’hat I like to make people cry, of course. T’he big t’hing is t’heir energy. I can feel everyone’s energy coming towards me, holding me up, giving me strength to put my whole soul into each piece.” 

It’s such a simple little gesture — but for Johnny, time seems to stand still. Flesh heats. There are new shades that bloom across his skin — pinks, and reds that coat cheeks and the tips of his ears as he suddenly looks down. The smile that forms is tender. Innocent. He’s not used to this kind of thing, not used to compliments and certainly not used to getting them from people he’s so damn enamored with. For a moment he simply burns scarlet with his gaze cast downward. He soaked up the warm feeling that blooms in his chest, allows himself to feel good. There’s no need to recoil. To battle what’s been spoken. Jake’s words come from a good place — one of adoration. Honesty.

“Sometimes…”

He takes a breath, faces Jake, and finds his eyes with his own. When he speaks there are nerves present but there is also a jitteriness. An excitement. It’s a rushed confession. “Sometimes, you make it so hard for me to think. Like I — I want to say something clever or funny but all I can think about is just … you. Like how you look or smell or sound or feel. It’s like I just. I get so full of you — e-everything about you and it used to be really scary but now, it’s different, y-y’know? I just feel like I’m going to burst with all these feelings I have for you and — do you, like — do you ever get … like that?” Probably not. Oh, he’s worried that he may have said too much, that he may have gone too far. “It’s just, um, hard to explain…”

GOD, HE SWEARS THAT JOHNNY CAN take the breath from his lungs with a single glance. Jake hadn’t been expecting to fall this hard for anyone ever again -- he didn’t think it was possible, truthfully, after what had happened with Jane and Andrea. He didn’t think he would ever be ready ( or willing, for that matter ) to form that kind of bond with someone else again. He didn’t think he had the strength for it. Guess he was wrong. 

He’s always been powerless in the face of real, human connection. It’s the one thing he craves more than anything else on earth. More than the meth, the heroin, the cigarettes -- more than anything, Jake wants to be loved. And, God, does Johnny love him. 

      “Yeah.” he breathes.  

Jake reaches out, molds a hand to the side of Johnny’s face, feels the heat coming off of his skin. He leans forward, slow, gentle, pressing their lips together in a kiss that feels so electric that he finds himself lost in it, his head swimming, his heart pounding. He pours everything that he doesn’t know how to say into it -- fills it with unspoken confessions and a kind of love that he’s never felt for another person before. The kiss, though passionate, is brief. Jake knows that Johnny’s going to be caught off-guard by it -- he wants to make sure not to push it, to give the other time to stop it if he so chooses. 

His other hand comes up to cup the other side of Johnny’s face as he pulls back, breathless, blue eyes falling upon Johnny’s lips for just a moment before they come to meet his gaze. 

LISA starters // accepting !!

JAKE LEANS BACK AGAINST THE ICY wooden steps that lead up to the back door of his wood shop. The cigarette in his hands burns slowly, the smoke wafting high into the air and disappearing against the deep grey Alaskan sky. He brings it to his lips and sucks in a sharp breath, drawing the smoke into his lungs and exhaling it through his nose.

It’s not often that he gets a chance to chat with his new neighbor – lately their schedules haven’t clicked as well as they did at first. Jake’s throwing himself into his work a lot more than usual lately; staying in his shop for days on end without even so much as a smoke break, not even lifting his head at the sight of a new customer or his boss or even Johnny – which is a bit uncharacteristic of him, considering that he usually at least drops by a few times a week to buy a new plant or bring the guy a cup of coffee. 

Truthfully, he misses Johnny. But he won’t mention that. He’s far too busy trying to keep his eyes off of him.

It’s nice to break out of that grueling work routine. Nice to have a rest, to stretch his sore limbs and go home, shower away his stress and sleep in a bed. Nice to see Johnny again. This cycle of overwork definitely makes him appreciate little things more –  like the crisp morning air, the scent of fresh coffee, or conversations with mysterious and interesting gardeners.

He takes one more drag and speaks against the smoke as it wafts from his throat.

      “I dunno about that.” 

He snubs his cigarette out against the bottom of his work boots, walking over to the garbage bin to toss the butt inside. Jake turns to look at Johnny with tired eyes, the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

      “You’re definitely somebody. To me, at least.”