Okay, this is a work in progress so there is more to come. Sorry this chapter is so short, but I felt that, for the first chapter I needed a good intro for the story, kind of something to have a base on.
I do not own Bones, obviously Hart Hanson wouldn't be writing Bones FF (if he did, I'd have to read that…)
The air was hot, lingering with the remnant hint of sweat and saliva. Even though a window was open, there was something about the air of sex that a window couldn't fix. Jack shifted under the covers to look at Zack. Zack's bare shoulder fell up and down, up and down with heavy breathes. He looked at the shoulder, the brown mole that dolled the top right of his wing bone. Jack turned away. Why had he done this? That was the question that lingered on his mind as he'd kissed Zack, as he'd brought him upstairs, and now. He'd made no effort to stop the boy. Maybe he liked it, in some subconscious sick way. He swung his body around until he was sitting on the edge of the bed and he looked up at the ceiling in the apartment. It was only two houses away from the one where he lived. He'd get up, get dressed, slink back into his house and mumble about how he had some party with his coworkers. He reached for his boxers and slid them on. Zack stirred and looked drowsily over at him,
"Hodgins?" he asked, squinting up at the figure of Jack getting dressed. Jack paused then turned around.
"I've got to go," he said weakly pulling on his pants then his shirt.
"Why?" Zack asked. Hodgins looked away, he didn't answer, he just pulled on his shirt, grabbed his coat and left. He refused to kiss him on the forehead, wish his sweet dreams; he just wanted to get out.
Jack slunk guiltily into his house and checked the clock. 3:37 it read. He sighed; work would be in 5 hours from now. In about 5 hour from now, he'd have to confront his bad actions. Moved through the dark hallways in no real hurry to get back to his room. He didn't even bother to get into some form of pajamas. He lay in bed, the feeling of Zack's hands still wandering over his skin. He turned over, and winced seeing the picture of Angela on his nightstand. He touched her smiling face,
"I'm sorry," he whispered, rolling over again, to get away from that smile, those beautiful lips he'd kissed to many times. Why had he done this?
The next morning the light shining into his window was too bright, and the taste of Zack lingered in Hodgins' mouth. He hadn't slept last night, and had merely rolled around, trying to relax. He'd even gotten up to watch something on TV, hoping it would calm him. At 4 in the morning, he discovered, the only things on were numbers for sex lines and ads for sleeping pills and Wendys. He'd considered calling the sex line for a second; maybe it would give him an excuse to not sleep. Hodgins got up groggily, he felt sick from the amount of alcohol and Zack he'd swallowed the night before. He went into the bathroom and swallowed two Aspirins. He looked at himself in the mirror; examining the rest of him he had left. He looked like he felt, "road hard and put away wet" his mother would have said. His hair was knotted, his eyes were red and his expression was dull. He tried to clear the picture of the hangover Hodgins from his face as he went downstairs. He drank some black coffee, what he really wanted was a straight shot of whisky, but he didn't dare at this time. He rooted around in the cabinet in order to find something to eat. After a couple of minutes of searching he decided it would be a better idea to go without breakfast. He sulked upstairs to change. He grabbed the first things he could reach; thankfully it was a plain black shirt and jeans. He pulled on his jacket and made a beeline for the car outside.
He slid into the car. Any other day he would have waited for Zack, offered to give him a ride to work, considering Zack couldn't drive. Instead of being a Good Samaritan he put the key in the ignition and zoomed off down the street, not a hard thing to do in a brick lined driveway. He was regretting the long workday ahead of him.
To be continued….
