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Tru Luv Fanfiction |
Dark Moments
by: Rolymurp
Pacey sighed as he pulled himself to a sitting position on the side of the bed. He leaned forward to retrieve his boxer shorts and jeans, the former still inside the latter, and pulled them on with one hand, reaching for the glass on the night stand with the other. He couldn’t tell if it was water or something else in there and he didn’t really care, he just needed something to wet his mouth. He winced at the taste of the vodka and the sight of the glowing red numbers on the clock radio that told him it was 7:13 am. With a backward glance at the sleeping form behind him, he stood and began to search for his shirt.
It was at the foot of the bed, a fact he would have known if the memories of the night before would only come to him sooner. Out of habit, he rubbed at his temples, pretending he didn’t know full well that it wouldn’t help the dull pounding he felt throughout his head. He pulled the shirt on and leaned against the door frame between the living room and bedroom. A stirring on the bed caught his attention and he regarded it carefully, willing his consort not to wake.
The rustling caused the sheet to slide down, and Pacey again had a full view of what he’d seen only a few hours before. Short, disheveled, dark hair topping a tanned neck. Broad shoulders above a well-defined back leading to the pale, smooth ass peeking out just above the line of the sheet.
God, Jack’s beautiful, he thought to himself as he appraised his friend. The phrase resonated in his head as he watched him sleep. He tried to pull himself away from it, though. It was light outside now, and anything between he and Jack was reserved for dark moments.
Abruptly, he turned from the room and strode to the door, stooping down to pick up his shoes. He slipped outside and tiptoed down the hall, finally sitting down on the landing to put his shoes on and tie them. He jogged swiftly down the four flights and out the door, heading for the subway station and the train that would take him back to his studio apartment in Brooklyn. He needed to be there in case Joey called or stopped in for breakfast. Though she knew he’d gone for a drink with Jack the night before, she wouldn’t understand his sleeping there. Not again.
Once in a seat, he searched his mind for a memory of last night. Jack had called and they agreed to meet at the dive bar around the block from his apartment. They had a lot to drink; a couple of shots of tequila and countless beers, and Jack was smoking like a fiend. He’d given him shit about it, he remembered. The ‘I can’t believe a former athlete would pick up such a nasty habit’ speech that he saved just for Jack. Then they’d gone up to Jack’s place, like they always did. There were no invitations disguised as offers to let him use the bathroom or borrow CDs anymore, now they just went without talking about it.
He remembered kissing him on the stairs and in the hall, and a little bit of groping as Jack struggled with the lock. Then they stumbled in the door and the mood changed completely. Jack became belligerent and physically rough with him, and not for the first time. The instances of angry, drunken sex were getting more frequent, but Pacey didn’t know how to handle it other than to allow it. Jack had every reason to be hostile towards him, and his own guilt over the situation always compelled him to take the abuse.
The train hit his stop and he struggled to his feet, barely squeezing through the impatient doors. He pushed his thoughts of Jack into the back of his mind as he walked to his building, unwilling to dwell on it when he might be seeing Jo soon.
Inside his apartment, he stripped completely and tossed his clothes at the laundry basket at the bottom of his closet. All he wanted to do was fall into his bed, but he knew that he reeked, and he couldn’t risk getting that “bar” smell into his sheets or leaving it in his hair. He walked, zombie-like, to the shower, pausing in the doorway to scratch his head. He stopped suddenly, his arm hovering in front of his face, and inhaled deeply. A new wave of remorse and self-loathing hit him as he recognized the scent as Jack’s. He crossed his arms and closed his eyes, permitting himself the one moment to remember the few times that they’d been happy together. The times before he’d allowed his cowardice to run his life.
Shaking off the thought, he turned on the shower, adjusting the water temperature so that it was just a little too hot. He wanted it to hurt, if only for a few minutes.
“Hey, Witter. You plannin’ on sleeping all day?” A soft, breathy voice whispered, waking him. Pacey turned his head on the pillow to see Joey sitting on the edge of the bed.
“Hey.” He responded, his own voice hoarse from the smoke the night before. “What time is it?”
“Ten-thirty.” She ran her fingers through his hair and kicked off her shoes, lying down beside him in the bed. He permitted her to pull his head to her chest and sighed at the comfort it offered.
“Pace?” She said. He looked up into her confused and slightly annoyed expression.
“What’s up?”
“Your pillow’s wet.”
“Oh…I took a shower when I got home.” He explained. “I didn’t bother to dry my hair.”
She made a sound that was close to a snort. “What time did you get home?”
“I don’t know. Late.” He answered. “What’s the problem?”
“You just always seem to stay out till the wee hours when you go to see Jack.” She remarked tersely, sliding him off of her, climbing out of the bed and standing before him with her arms crossed over her chest.
He watched her angry expression, absurdly amused by the fact that she’d finally figured it out. It had been years, after all. This conversation was a long time coming.
“What are you saying, Jo?” He asked, sitting up.
“I’m not saying anything. I’m asking. Or rather, I’m accusing.”
“Accusing me of what?”
“You’re cheating on me, aren’t you?” She asked, struggling to keep the tears out of her voice.
“Joey, I-“
“And, what’s worse, you’ve got Jack covering it up for you. I mean, whenever I see him and ask about your ‘boy’s night’s out,’ he always confirms that you were together.” She cut him off.
“You’re completely-“ He tried again.
“So that’s great. I guess, gay or straight, the boys always look out for each other.” She said, interrupting him again. “I just can’t believe that after all…that you could sleep with another girl…” She trailed off, the sob overtaking her. Bending forward, she brought her hands up to cover her face.
He stood up and walked over to her, reaching out to hug her. She pushed away his attempts at first, finally allowing him to wrap her in his arms.
“Jo,” He whispered. “I’m not cheating on you with another girl. I swear it.”
She pulled back, wiping her face and sniffling. “Then why?”
“Why was I out so late?” He sighed, leading her back to sit on the bed with him. “I got completely shit-faced last night, Jo. I was so drunk that I didn’t want to go home. I was afraid I’d pass out on the subway and get robbed in my sleep. Jack let me crash on his couch, and I came home this morning, took a shower and went back to bed.”
“Why didn’t you just tell me that?” She asked.
“I didn’t want another ‘You drink too much, Pacey’ lecture from you.” He raised his eyebrows and smiled, trying to coax a laugh from her. “But if the choice is between a lecture and a baseless accusation of infidelity, I’ll gladly take the former.” She finally smiled at him, her face still flushed with embarrassment.
“I’m sorry, Pacey. I just feel,…” She tried to explain, sheepish.
“I know, Potter. But guess what?”
She looked at him expectantly as he enfolded her in his arms.
“I still love you enormously, even when you’re suspicious of me.”
“Really?” She asked, batting her eyebrows at him. “How much do you love me when I’m making you waffles?”
His eyes shot up to the heavens as he breathed deeply. “There’s no mechanism large enough to measure that amount, believe me.” He answered, chuckling as he watched her stride into the small kitchen area and root around in his cabinets for the waffle iron Doug had given him.
“Just for that,” She said over her shoulder at him. “You’re getting chocolate chips.”
“Now that’s love.” He stated, leaning back into the pillows and pushing the lingering guilt from his mind.
The door to the apartment swung wide open, smacking violently into the wall, deepening the doorknob-shaped dent that had been growing for the past few months. The bumper had fallen off a few weeks after they’d moved in and neither of them had ever quite gotten around to reattaching it.
Jen sighed and called out Jack’s name, her irritation evident in her tone. It wasn’t just that their apartment door was unlocked, although that in and of itself would have bothered her, it was the implication that the unlocked door made: Pacey had been there the night before and, like usual, he had slipped out early to avoid having a sober conversation.
“Jack!” She shouted again, dropping her purse on the couch and walking into his bedroom. He was still in bed, out cold, and covered to just below his waist by the sheet. Quietly she made her way to his bedside and pulled it up a bit, forcing herself not to give in to her curiosity and peek beneath it. For some reason, Jack was desperately modest in front of her. He obviously didn’t have the same hang up where Pacey was concerned.
She sank down onto the bed and shook his shoulder, whispering his name. Seeing him there, naked and alone, she was suddenly hit with such a strong feeling of compassion that she couldn’t stay angry about the door. She didn’t, however, feel bad enough for him that she was going to let him sleep past noon.
Jack groaned without opening his eyes and reached up to his shoulder to still her persistent hand. “Jesus, Jen, fucking stop! I’m awake, okay?”
Drawing back, she regarded the annoyed expression on his face and instantly lost all sympathy. “You left the door unlocked.” She groused, standing and walking to the window.
“I did?” He asked, his voice scratchy.
She sighed and yanked the cord on the blinds, bathing the room in sunlight. Jack winced and covered his head, causing a bitter smile to break across her face. “No. I have a feeling someone else did. Pacey did. I just didn’t say that because I don’t want to have a conversation about that particular someone else.”
He stood up, carefully covering himself with the sheet, and began to search the floor for a pair of shorts. A sharp, stabbing pain seized his head and he sat back down quickly, breathing deeply.
Jen’s smile widened. “Feeling a little hungover there, Jack?” She asked, bitchily.
“Shut up. Throw me a pair of shorts or something?” She grabbed a pair of mesh shorts from the open dresser drawer and tossed them to him. He pulled them on slowly, glancing over to meet her gaze.
“I don’t want to talk about someone else either, so you can relax.”
“No, I really can’t. I would like to, believe me, but it’s just not possible.”
He laid back down on his pillow, staring at her.
“Honestly, as much as I don’t want to talk about someone else, what I really don’t want is to do is come home and find out that he’s been here.”
“So we are gonna talk about it.” He stated flatly. Jen crossed her arms and started back at him. “Fine. I did something stupid, okay? I called him, he came by, and we got drunk. Then he spent the night. Or at least part of it.”
“And this is all right with you? It’s just going to continue? After everything we talked about, everything you said about wanting to have a real relationship, an honest relationship. Remember that conversation?”
“It was two weeks ago, Jen. And two weeks was plenty of time for me to…” He trailed off, his face growing red.
“To what? To get so hard up that you just needed a piece of ass? I’m pretty sure there are other guys you could have called. In fact, I know one guy in particular, not that I want him skulking around our apartment.”
Jack looked down, unable to meet her eyes. “You know that’s not it, Jen. You know why I had to call Pacey. Please stop trying to simplify it.”
Her angry expression faded as she uncrossed her arms and sighed. She crawled onto the bed and sat next to him, speaking softly. “Jack…I know that you’re in love with him, and I know that it’s hard to just let that go, but he’s never going to leave her. You have to know that.”
“Of course I know it. I’m not crazy.”
“And this isn’t just about you and Pacey. Joey is your friend, and what you’re doing would destroy her. She’s my friend, too, Jack. I don’t like keeping secrets from her.”
“Do you think I don’t feel guilty?” Jack asked, sniffling slightly. “Do you think it doesn’t tear me up that I’m sleeping with my friend’s boyfriend?”
“Fiancé.” Jen corrected him.
He dropped his head into his hands and moaned. “I don’t even know what it’s about anymore, Jen. Definitely not love. It’s not as if we get together to cuddle and whisper to each other. Not that we ever did.” He lifted his head, resting his chin on his hand. “And last night…It was just awful.”
Jen grimaced. “What happened?”
“Nothing you want to hear about, trust me. It just wasn’t a pretty scene.” He chuckled mirthlessly. “I didn’t even know it was possible to want someone and want to kill them at the same time. I’m so angry with him, but for some reason, I just can’t let him go.”
“You have to. Regardless of what his feelings for you may be, he’s chosen Joey. He chose her years ago. Why he’s continued stringing you along is anybody’s guess, but he’s not going to suddenly abandon his straight persona to be with you. Not after all this time.”
Without answering, Jack dropped his head again and leaned into her. She pulled him into her arms and rubbed his back, waiting for the sobs that she knew would overtake him. Crying over Pacey, while not a regular thing, happened to Jack enough that Jen had learned when to expect it. Actually, in the last few months, it had usually happened because of her insistence that Jack face up to the situation.
He didn’t cry this time, though. He just lay there on her chest, breathing softly, until Jen realized that he had fallen back to sleep. For a moment, she started to feel hopeful. Maybe as far as Pacey was concerned, he was finally cried out.
“Shit!” Pacey yelped as the hot grease hit his arm.
“What happened?” Joey called out airily from the bathroom.
“Nothing. I just burned myself trying to cook you dinner, that’s all.” He answered, annoyed. He rubbed the stinging spot on his arm, scrutinizing it. “Don’t worry, it’s not like you have to stop putting on make-up to check on me or anything.”
She leaned out the bathroom door with an overly concerned expression on her face. “Oh, my poor baby!” She teased. “Are you dying?”
“Shut up. I was just pointing out that you don’t seem too worried about me hurting myself. After all, I’m doing this for you.” He explained, gesturing to the stovetop.
“And I appreciate it, honey. Now, can I finish getting ready, or do I have to keep watch over you in case that burn causes you to pass out?”
“I don’t want you to get ready. I think we should just cancel and stay here tonight.”
“Pacey, I’m not having this argument with you again. We made these plans over a week ago, we’re not backing out. I haven’t seen Jack or Jen in weeks. I want to go.”
“Well, then, I’ll stay home, and you can come over afterwards.”
Joey stepped out of the bathroom with a brush in her hands. “You’re going. You promised me.”
“Jo,” He whined. “I hate clubs.”
“I know,” she said, putting the brush on the counter and walking up behind him. “But you love me, right?” She asked, wrapping her arms around his waist.
“You know I do, Potter.” He answered, covering her arms with his own.
She giggled against his back as she slid her hands out from under his, gliding them over the pockets of his jeans and meeting at the apex of his thighs, stroking the area purposefully until his cock hardened in response, revealing its position. Wordlessly, she sank down to a kneeling position, briefly moving her hands to his hips, coaxing him to turn around.
“Jo,” He sighed, smiling. “I’m trying to make dinner.”
Looking up with a devilish smirk, she unzipped his fly, slowly sliding her hand inside. “We’ll grab some pizza.” She suggested.
Pacey moaned quietly and grinned at her. “Pizza sounds good.”