Beginning Notes: I WILL FACE GOD AND WALK BACKWARDS INTO HELL FOR MY CANON FOR DRUGDEALER!GEMMA
Neighbor
Jax pounds against the wall for the fourth time, demanding that his neighbor keep it down and regretting choosing an apartment complex with such thin walls. The kid had been going at it for what had been hours now, and the chick he was with apparently was a screamer. The girl - or, she sounds older, actually - calls out the guys name in the midst of her screaming for the sixth time that evening and there seems to be a change of position because he can hear the bedsprings creaking. Jax winces, and decides that the best thing would be to move away from his bedroom wall.
He wanders into his living room dumbly, looking for something to do. He considers his Playstation that has been collecting dust, but just thinking of the Mirrors level he'd been trying to beat for two weeks made his blood boil. He also ponders just jerking it, but for some reason, jerking off to the guy next door is just different from jerking off to the guy next door on your laptop - even if the moans sound just the same and equally pornographic. Briefly he debates going out, but there was no one to go out with - they were all either asleep or studying, he'd tried - and he wouldn't bow in to Tara just yet.
Deciding to just give in and call his mom - he needed her to get him some bud and blow anyways - he picks up his cell phone and dials her number, thinking nothing of it when there's a familiar ringing next door.
Jax gets the relief of the kid and his chick easing up a bit - maybe they're tired, thank fucking god and no pun intended - when his mom finally picks up the phone.
"Hi, Jax," she says, and she's breathing hard - like she'd just been running a ten mile charity marathon. "Now's not a good time."
"Why? Are you in trouble?" he asks, knowing that sometimes deals went sour and she had to bail, even if she mostly just dealt to college kids and teenagers so that she wouldn't have to deal - ha! - with that shit. He can practically hear his mom roll her eyes however, and on the other end of the line, a bed creaks. In his neighbor's room, the same thing happens.
"No, no, I'm just- baby, stop," she laughs, and there's the sound of the bed creaking with a heavy weight - she must've pushed whoever she was with back into the bed. Jax notices that the same noise comes from his friends room, and slowly tiptoes back towards his bedroom. "I'm just- busy. Can you call back in… three hours?"
There's giggling and laughter on her end, and if Jax presses his ear against the wall - giggling and laughter. He furrows his brow, and locks his jaw - gritting his teeth in the way that she used to have to pay the dentist extra for. The kid next door was younger than him - twenty, maybe twenty one, twenty two tops. He knows that they attend the same Uni - the state college, so that he wouldn't be too far away - and that he rides motorcycles too. Mostly the guy didn't talk, and when he did, he said extremely dumb shit. Jax grasps at straws trying to recall his name, remembering his nickname being something stupid from a night getting trashed at a keg and his real name being something Hispanic. And he - this quiet, idiotic, stupidly named University student - was nailing his mom? Jax would go over there and fucking murder him.
Not to mention - but the douchebag wasn't even her type. Not that Jax knew his mom's type or anything, but the assholes that had been in and out of his life during his teens had been big, burly bikers with bulging muscles, hardcore tattoos, and serious hogs that called him 'champ' and threw her over his shoulder. That kid hardly fit the script.
"Baby?" Gemma's voice asks, urgent and impatient.
"Yeah. I can call back," he says, his tone steely. If Gemma notices, she doesn't comment, because she's back to that shitty giggling thing. Just like he guessed - on the other end of his wall, he can hear her laughter, and the guy that was with her. Jax hangs the phone up and slips into his sneakers - prepared to go over and stomp the kids jaw in, maybe take a few teeth to hang on a necklace.
As expected, as soon as he hangs up, the noise starts up again. Jax grits his teeth at the sound - only grabbing his knife on the way out. He grabs his keys as well before locking his apartment up and storming over. It doesn't take much to pick the lock - a skill the woman herself taught him when he was in middle school - and soon, he's in the kid's apartment.
It's a decent place he's got set up for himself. A relatively nice television in the living room, with weed, rolling paper, and a video game controller on the table. He has an XBox that Jax considers destroying, but decides against it - his wounds would be physical, not emotional. Destroying another man's system was disrespectful.
Yeah, well, so was fucking another man's mother. He glances at the system and decides to come back for it - trash it as an aftermath effect sort of thing so the guy can understand he isn't screwing around… unlike some people. Jax still couldn't believe that the kid who mostly kept his head down and once passed out in a pool of his own piss was the one making his mother scream just a few rooms down the hall.
"Ah- fuck!" Gemma's voice groans out, and Jax grits his teeth. It had been okay in high school. Those guys were old enough to be his dad, and demanded a respect that he'd been ready to relinquish - even behind all that teenage rebellion. And yeah, they all eventually stepped out and left her crying in the middle of the kitchen with broken china and bruises that he couldn't bear seeing but they were good for her while they were around. This guy is still a kid - still smoking weed and going to keg parties. He can't look after her like they could. He can't protect her like they could.
He also can't hurt her like they could, but Jax balls his fist around his knife at the idea.
He spots some other stuff as well - including his mother's purse, and her heeled boots. Exhaling through his nose, Jax moves down the hallway until he's directly in front of the bedroom. He takes a deep breath - knows catching his mother in the throes of things would leave some scars that wouldn't ever completely heal - and kicks open the door. Better to get this over with and scare the guy off while he could.
He's surprised to find that his mother isn't screwing his next door neighbor, but what would appear to be his next door neighbor's dad. The guy is considerably older than his neighbor - and actually, his mom - with salt and pepper hair and scratchy goatee that he has buried between her breasts. A few impressive tattoos - gang ones, he has a special eye for them - trail over the biceps that wrap around his mom's lower back… and fingers that trail further, digging into flesh that the young University student just didn't need to see. Jax gags and looks away from the sight - gives the two some time to cover up, sputters in disgust, the works. In all reality, he's just happy it wasn't the kid.
"J-Jax, what the fuck? Call back does not mean come over," his mother scolds, pulling the sheets close to her chest. Once they're both covering their extremities, he peers back at them.
"You were making a lot of noise," he lies, tucking the knife away in his back pocket. "I came to tell you to either quiet down or shut up. I thought you were that kid, screwing some random whore. I didn't know."
"Juice is my son," the man says, scratching his beard awkwardly. Jax looks up at the man with confusion bright in his baby blues, so Nero bows his head and sighs painfully. "He introduced me to Gemma as his dealer when I came to town."
"This is Nero," Gemma says sheepishly, her blonde and black locks falling into her face briefly. "He's my… friend. With benefits. Now can you go?"
"No! I mean, not without you," he says tossing her clothes on the bed. He tosses the lingerie - he didn't think thigh highs and garters were his mother's thing, but he learnt something new everyday - onto the bed last, shuddering as he does. "You're not going to just nail my mom, dude. Not while I'm next door."
"Would you prefer I nailed her in your bathroom?" the man asks with a shrug. "Or, perhaps your spare bedroom? Honestly, I'm not a picky man."
"At least let me… finish up in here, Jax," Gemma pleads. "Put some headphones in baby - I'll be quick."
Nero snorts at that - muttering under his breath about never being a minute man - and she slaps his arm, batting her eyelashes pleadingly at her son. Eventually, Jax does back slowly out of the bedroom - still grotesquely freaked out and yet, outstandingly grateful that it wasn't his University classmate.
He's surprised to see the kid, eyeing the boots warily and holding two armfuls of groceries tightly to his chest - almost as if he'd rather be deciding which date on the milk was better to take home than be listening to his father fuck his drug dealer. Jax blinks at him and he blinks back before setting the bags on the kitchen table - obviously with much more force than necessary.
"Again? Another neighbor? Papá, eso es como, el cuarto esta semana! Dios, que tiene la libido de un chico de quince años de edad!"
In return, Juice gets an over exaggerated moan from his father - followed by a very, very real one.
"Lo sentimos, no se podía oír por encima de su no tener una niña con ella- oh!" Both Juice and Jax shudder simultaneously before Jax gestures the XBox - seeing the opened case of Mirrors lying just beneath the console, barely concealed from his position when he had walked in earlier but in full sight from his guard by the bedroom door. The case is empty, meaning that Juice - like Jax - had the CD still in his console, left there in angry fits of rage or frustration or both.
"You beat the-?"
"Nope. You?"
"Nuh-uh. Wanna try?"
"Better than listening to them," Juice sighs, picking up the controller.
End Notes: I didn't count this as part of the Smut Collection because there really is no smut - just heavily implied smut. I haven't abandoned the collection though - it's just really hard to write realistic and immersive sex scenes and give them a good plot (cause plotless smut is boring smut, even if I'm probably gonna write that at some point).
Translations (I used Google Translate, so sorry to any native speakers if this is inaccurate ;-;)
Papá, eso es como, el cuarto esta semana! Dios, que tiene la libido de un chico de quince años de edad - Dad, that's like, the fourth this week! God, you have the libido of a fifteen year old boy!
Lo sentimos, no se podía oír por encima de su no tener una niña con ella- oh! - Sorry, couldn't hear you over your not having a girl with her- oh!