A/N - this is different from what I usually write - non-linear narrative. Definitely not my style of writing, since I barely know how to do it right, but if you like, then whatever. Yes, this is Milton/Jerry, I did warn you. Don't read if you don't like slash, or excessive cussing. If you know me, then you know there's a bucketload of f-bombs and other profanities that would make this show premiere on Showtime.
Edit 06/10: Also, if you're a fan of my work, please vote on my poll. It will take you only one minute (or less) to do. Up to three choices. Plus, I have another fic with this pairing coming up, so stay tuned, the very few merry fans I know (or don't know)
Disclaimer - I don't own Kickin' It. (unfortunately.)
One thing everyone can say is that Milton Krupnick has never uttered an obscenity before, not ever in his life. However, what changed for him to suddenly start gaining a colorful vocabulary that his family would have to slap it out of him? Well, some people can say friends, but ever since he turned sixteen, a new feeling of emancipation (not legally, mind you, but just feeling half-free from his parents' clutches) makes him even want to say a string of obscenities that even a sailor would blush.
However, Milton's favorite word happens to be the four letter word - everyone's favorite four letter word - that word that people say when they step on a Lego block, or they forget something, or to insult a person…or even, during coitus, as one smart alec would say.
And one person has kept count, ever since.
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The first time he says fuck, is when he receives his first bee sting.
Yeah, it's hot; the early stages of California summer getting to the citizens of Seaford, especially for the group of friends, who always hang out at that dojo - today, is their last days of being sophomores, and they are totally segregated. Jack's packing for his summer in Colorado, and Kim - well, she finally received her dream vacation - Cancun. So for the entire summer, until one of them gets back (who cares anyway?) Milton decides to hang out with his best friend, his confidant, (his crush,) the only one that still has a yellow belt for some reason along with him (seriously, the both of them improved. Rudy's just lazy to give them a fucking upgrade.) who else, Jerry.
So the bee sting, well, let's just say it's bad timing.
No swarm of bees around, that's for sure, but the courtyard has plenty flowers that are just too beautiful for a bee not to ignore. But Jerry had to pick out that flower, trying to be all cutesy (was it mentioned that they have the hots for each other? No? Sorry.) and give it to the now-flushed Milton, who luckily, isn't afraid nor allergic to bees (or flowers), and receives a sting on his finger.
"Fuck!"
Fuck indeed. Bee stings hurt like a bitch.
At that moment, the Hispanic sports a look of wonderment, flabbergast, surprise. Slack-jaw and everything. "What did you just say?"
"Do you have a credit card?"
He closes his jaw and narrows his eyes. Either Milton's playing dumb, or he really needed some help to remove it and the obscenity is far from his mind now. Whatever the reason is, he forgets about it and removes his emergency card from his wallet.
In an act of another surprise, Jerry kisses the bee sting on his finger, and Milton feels so much better.
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The second time he says fuck, is on their first date.
July fourth - American Independence Day, and apparently, the perfect day - or night - for Jerry to take the reluctant Milton out on a date. Cute, isn't it?
Jerry barely remembers the last time he's been on a date, considering the many girls he has tried to pursue, much to Milton's chagrin (but no one really knew that) and Jack's amusement. Fireworks, while scary, can also be romantic. Isn't that right, Martinez?
So, the date. Not only fireworks, but a nice setting, in a secluded park, where the private (but definitely not sexually active, because Joan's watching, believe it or not) couples sit and watch, without any distractions. Thanks to the security guard, they get a perfect spot near the water.
No, not like a picnic.
It could be one - all they have, was Funky Nut Blast ice cream, and they damn well enjoyed it before the hesitant, but comfortable cuddling.
And as Milton confidently has his head against the other's chest, the fireworks start.
He turns around, staring at Jerry, who gazes at the fireworks - because it's so much better right in front of you than on the television, since Mamí Martinez wouldn't have it any other way for as many years as Jerry can count - and he couldn't feel more confident as he gets closer to the other teen's face, slowly.
That's when Jerry looks, and whoever initiated or started, or whatever - their lips met.
However, the next explosion separates them, and all they can hear is Milton muttering 'fuck' before leaning in again.
Because fuck - Milton hated being interrupted, especially for something he's always wanted.
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~07/04/2012 - M + J 4ever~
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The third time he says fuck, it's because Jerry tells him to.
They've been dating since July fourth - well, no shit - and it's another sleepless night before school starts in the morning, when they're in that park again, making out like curious little kids; only difference is, if one refers to little kids as thirteen, then Milton and Jerry are twenty-one.
They restrain each other from ravishing each other - that didn't go too well the first time; second base before Milton's Freudian ego kicks in and they are bidding themselves goodnight. That was last night. Today, something's different. While the nerdy teen usually dominates, a role-reversal takes place, and well—
"Say it." Milton knows exactly what he has to say, because the four letter word riles Jerry up for some reason. Saying fuck makes him go crazy, but not too crazy, because they just started dating, with late night kissing, longer phone calls, and honeymoon stages - both were so high in their honeymoon that they barely notice much around them. That's too bad - nothing really happened. Both Jack and Kim are back, but both of them are too enwrapped in their own relationship to care about their other two best friends in an unexpected, homosexual relationship.
"Why?"
"Because I said so," the other teen whispers so dangerously, so intoxicating, that the four letter word slips out, "fuck."
The last thing he feels, besides his lips against his boyfriend's, is that Jerry squeezes his ass before leaning in again.
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The fourth time he says fuck, it involves the four word sentence:
"We need to talk."
Well, shit - both of them say it, when Kim says those words; those words everyone fears. But why do they need to talk? It's the middle of junior year, and they haven't seen - or talked to - the blond since the end of their sophomore year. To say that they have broken up, is a lie, however with new relationships comes new tensions. Jack barely spent his time with Jerry, and neither did Kim, with Milton. Eddie moved before their sophomore year.
So why do they need to talk? (also, no one knows of the two boys. Well, except for Mamí Martinez, and the Krupnicks.)
"Why are you two avoiding us?" The question makes even Milton cock an eyebrow; confusion at it's best. Kim almost slaps her forehead in frustration; she knows of Milton and Jerry's relationship; however nothing is confirmed until the both of them admit it. Since then, maybe Jerry's defectiveness may have rubbed off. "I mean, why are you two avoiding Jack and me."
"You two barely talk to us. It's only fair that we keep up the trend," Milton shoots back, with restrained anger that surprises the blond.
(Seriously, what's up with that?)
"Honestly, I kind of miss you guys," she admits, staring back and forth at the couple, hoping to get a positive reaction. If not, then who's to say the Wasabi Warriors are broken up? Well, everyone. However, they don't need that on their case - Milton and Jerry are finally upgrading, and it's always been a team.
It will always be a team, as long as relationships don't get in the way. "We've missed you too."
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breaking news: wasabi warriors reunited; black dragons outraged
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The fifth time, is a passion.
Secluded well inside a room, with nothing on but their bottoms well on their ankles, their shirts crumpled in a corner, heavy breathing encircling the room; passion, lust, love maybe.
And fuck, pleasure points can make the count go high enough for it to be fifty.
All that is heard around the room are pants, moans, groans, names being screamed, and profanities. Lots and lots of them. Hands below the nether regions, squeezing asses and pumping their fists, so swiftly around their erections, that they release all over their chests, kisses so bruising that they might have to wait a while before leaving so that their lips aren't swollen with lust - but they like it that way.
"Fuck." They both mutter, panting very loudly - it's a wonder how no one else can hear them.
Well, it's the school's storage closet, and as dirty as it sounds, it's hot. Lustful, maybe.
Well, as long as they keep things clean in the unused closet, they will be okay for the rest of their senior year.
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The sixth time he says fuck, is when they denied him admission in his preferred school choice.
First, Jerry's wondering - why not Yale? The nerdy teen is capable of getting in a school that prestigious. And yes, he has said that word when they discuss their college choices.
Milton's only response - "I want to be as close to you as possible."
They both argued over which state, or country, they should go to, since it was clear that they will not stay in hot, caliente SoCal for so long - Washington, Nevada, Arizona, New York, Maine, Florida, Canada, even Montana - just so they can stay together. They settled on the bustling state of New York, but NYU definitely denied the smart teen.
"Fuck!" Milton says, with understandable anger - Jerry's been accepted to Fordham; far from the school Milton wanted, but still in that big Apple city. While also applying to other colleges within the city (definitely not the state) that was the only school in Manhattan he can go to and still be near his boyfriend, because anything further would be challenging.
"Don't be mad," the Hispanic tries to reason, but Milton is definitely not having it.
"I am mad," he stresses.
Luckily for the both of them, it wasn't the only college they applied to. Milton considered Stonybrook, while Jerry looked extensively at Hofstra. However, sightseeing Manhattan excited the both of them, as well as mass transit. "We have other choices. Let's just wait for those choices. And if they deny us, we can always apply to Toronto University. They have a great science program."
"Yeah, as well as a program for undecided people," Milton retorts, with a bit of malice. It's the truth - the Hispanic barely knew what he wanted to do. Psychology was out of the question, as well as math or science, or anything educational. Criminal justice, he almost chose, but he wanted to delve more into what it really meant. Already a first degree black belt (as well as Milton) he would do exceptionally excellent in that field.
"I will choose a major. Just give me time."
They both drop their acceptance (and rejection) letters for a comforting hug, that the both of them needed. They both unknowingly, but meaningfully, whisper the three word sentence, in unison.
"I love you."
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jerry caesar martinez: future criminal profiler?
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The seventh time, works like a charm.
It's hilarious - they've been dating for well over two years, and they haven't had real, mind-blowing intercourse yet. However, they both mutter 'I'm ready' on their anniversary, before they pack up to leave for Toronto later in the summer.
As for the gang, tearful goodbyes are shared - Jack and Kim are going to USC, while they're off to Toronto University, where they finally can go to college together. To get a dorm specifically for the both of them would be unlikely, but it's so much better than nothing. They saved up for tickets, and shopping, since they're in colder territory, also for other things. Scholarships and grants saved their asses for expenses, because they knew perfectly well that the tuition was so high that they would have to make a pit stop at Nevada to get some extra cash just to have at least one semester over there.
And as clothes are (literally,) being teared off, as well as pants and underwear, and also that condom wrapper, they both whisper small, sweet nothings as they move as one, shaking the bedpost vigorously.
As for profanity, the four letter word is Milton's (and Jerry's) favorite word, so much, that they lost count as to how many times Milton Krupnick can belt out profanities in one passionate night.
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fin
