I'm still here
[Aaron Livesy / Jackson Walsh]
K. Approx 2850 Words.
Written for: Gaga, I don't know. For shits and giggles? I submitted these somewhere else last year, so it's all pre-the black hole of misery that has overwhelmed this story in 2011. I was pleased with these attempts in particular, so let me know what you think by all means, though the show has long since moved beyond the events described.
*Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, names or settings portrayed here.I intend no trespass by musing on them in this way. Don't sue, or send me nasty, expletive-laden emails.
I'm still here
Jackson sighed and emptied his pint glass. Aaron had just swept out of the Woolpack back to work, with Paddy hot on his heels, his last words to them both a snarled retort, "You two call yourselves mates!"
The two older men had confronted the hot headed mechanic about his persistence in flogging that dodgy old Fiesta of his to Pearl, Paddy's receptionist. He'd entered the pub earlier waving around the deposit she'd paid him for the heap of scrap, as if he was supposed to earn hard-won praise for defrauding an old age pensioner with a clocked heap of junk on wheels. Jackson was having none of it, and neither was Paddy.
All their stand had earned them both was a withering glare and defensive snarls from the teenager, before he stormed off.
Around him, the Woolpack hummed quietly with its lunchtime crowd. He looked at his empty glass on the table before him, as the remaining film of beer foam pooled in the bottom. He wasn't sure how much stroppy Aaron he could put up with today, but he would have to see him again eventually- they now lived together!
He smiled ruefully for a second, thinking of Aaron as he preferred him. Scenes from their fast receding holiday in Lanzarote flickered through his thoughts; together on the beach, in bed, wandering along the sea front as the evening broke and the festive town lights turned on. Aaron had even taken his hand, without the usual grimace of distaste or blush of apparent shame.
Every image was soaked in sunshine and Aaron's smile, which, in its ever so rare appearances, could light up a room. An even rarer appearance since returning to Emmerdale.
They'd been back less than a week, and already the familiar clouds had begun to darken the landscape of their already troubled relationship. The silences. The tension. The angry kaleidoscope of emotions and behavior that were the young man he'd let back into his life.
Things had changed, sure; for the better even, but now, with this fiasco with the Fiesta, it seemed only another case of one step forward, twenty steps back.
"You want another, love?" Diane's face loomed at the edge of his vision, bringing his train of thought to an abrupt halt.
"Uhh, no, you're alright," he came to, and smiled at the newly returned Woolpack landlady,
"I best get back to it." He shifted onto his feet.
"No rest for the wicked, eh?" responded Diane, but she was already halfway back to the bar, and by the sound of her voice, her own troubles kept her miles away beyond that.
He emerged into the partly cloudy brightness of a Yorkshire day, squinting after the dimness inside the pub. As his eyes settled, they were drawn automatically down the facing road, busy with lunchtime traffic and ambling pedestrians, to the garage.
He looked for the familiar overalls under the bobbing head, with its short dark cut. He both wanted to see him, and didn't in the slightest.
No activity; his Transit van sat by Declan's house unmolested. The caf? Nothing. His mum would be in there now, no doubt.
His gaze turned to Smithy cottage up the road. Paddy's and Rhona's cars sat gleaming under the fluctuating sunlight. He could see Pearl, who had finished her lunch time drink with her friends, outside the vets surgery talking to a customer. A large dobermann stood by the man's heels. No doubt she was regaling both with the tale of her new car, Florence.
Florence. Jackson grimaced.
No sooner did Jackson believe Aaron had turned a corner, when some new mishap appeared at his bidding. What part of selling a clocked car to an old woman who was practically family to him did he not see as wildly inappropriate? Deceptive? Just wrong? What was it about him that drove him to such deeds?
Despite every bit of progress he appeared to have made, here was yet another example of the old Aaron; deceitful and aggressive; answering to no-one.
The same question that nightly troubled Jackson piqued him now. The same one had been his one justification during those two months steering clear of Aaron, after the scene in the pub where the mechanic had punched him. That one question bubbled quietly to the surface of Jackson's mind now while he considered the car, and his boyfriend, and the old woman outside the vet and the busy yet placid village scene unfolding before him:
What the hell was he still doing with someone like Aaron?
Lost in the valley of such thoughts, he started down the Hotten road towards Declan's house and his van, dodging around parked and moving vehicles and pedestrians as he went. In his pocket, his phone buzzed.
He stopped and hesitated before fishing it out. Did he even want to see Aaron now? Did he really feel like Round Two of trying to woo what scrap of conscience Aaron seemed to have left?
Sighing, shoulders drooping, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and examined the small screen on its cover.
It was his mum.
At the caf. Come grab a cuppa before we close. What you two want for tea? X
You two, he thought. Of course we'd be together. Why wouldn't we? Joined at the hip for nearly two months now.
At least it meant Aaron wasn't at the caf. Jackson grimaced to himself again, annoyed at feeling so hounded. It was a small village, yes, but he was in the right. It was Aaron who had made the wrong choice. Again.
Why should he, Jackson, feel so trapped?
And he loved Aaron. Didn't he? Could he love someone who lied and cheated almost on instinct? Who, beyond all the progress he'd made and challenges he'd overcome, and despite all the encouragement of his mismatched family and handful of friends, not to mention Jackson himself, still seemed to resist change as if it were a virus infecting him?
As he walked up to his van and wrenched the door open, sliding into the drivers seat. He purposely didn't look into the garage and its yard littered with abandoned car parts. A tide of doubt washed and ebbed in his mind, distracting him.
Glancing at this watch, he cursed under his breath at the time and stepped on the ignition, firing himself out of the village and into the rolling country lanes beyond.
He didn't notice the eyes watching him from beneath the raised bonnet of a large Subaru. Aaron followed the departing van with haunted eyes, until instantly a grimace crossed his face and he bent back down to his work.
It was getting dark when Jackson returned to Emmerdale. He'd spent the afternoon in Cloughton, about ten miles on the other side of Hotten, quoting on a building job.
He would probably never admit it out loud- how very Aaron, he thought to himself with a smirk- but he had enjoyed the brief respite from the village and his trouble-baiting boyfriend, doing what he did best.
No-one saw him as anything else but a builder this afternoon. No eyes followed him around nervously, waiting for his other half to manifest at his side like a bad omen. No awkward silences and moral quicksand. Just the simple order of a construction site.
'Bit dramatic,' he chastised himself with a smile.
As dusk fell across the Dales, his roving headlights mapped out the winding road, suddenly alighting on a familiar sign: Welcome to Emmerdale. Please drive carefully through our village.
'Tread carefully, more like,' he mused as he swung his wheels into the village glowing beyond, slowing the van to a crawl.
Smithy Cottage swam into view in the near distance. Suddenly, instinctively, he turned in at the now darkened garage, and parked his van outside Declan's similarly quiet house. He shut off the motor, and sat in his van, staring at his temporary home at the top of the street.
Nearby, the Woolpack gleamed warmly, and dark figures moved into and out of it. Smithy Cottage was also lit up, the outside lights splashing across the stone walls and green lawns at their feet. A window, his and Aaron's window, also glowed dimly upstairs.
He sat frozen in the dimming light, paralysed by indecision.
He hadn't really completed the train of thought he had coasted out of the village on; about Aaron, and the relationship he had rekindled with the troubled and intensely provocative mechanic; about that stupid car Aaron was trying to con Pearl into buying; about the angry resentment those actions stirred in Jackson, in stark counterpoint to the surge of lust and even love he felt for that stupid, beautiful kid.
Almost on cue, a warm feeling spread through his midriff, and he felt his heart pounding insistently at the thought of Aaron. Could he forgive and forget? Again?
He felt caught, trapped, as he had that afternoon, between his desire to speed up the slight hill into Smithy Cottage or that damned pub just to see Aaron again, and staying put, stewing in his grudge against the mechanic's behaviour and his seemingly unrepentant and unending instinct to cause trouble.
Why was he always the one conceding; giving way? Irritation surged through him as he recalled the arrogant sneer on Aaron's face as he and Paddy had confronted the teenager that afternoon about Pearl and the car; his piercing blue eyes lit with cold derision; a smug answer for every turn of accusation or argument offered.
Through the gathering dark, Jackson stared at that dimly lit window of the room that he and Aaron shared, and through it, back across the long months since he'd encountered Aaron in Bar West, crouched on a chair near the pool table, looking fierce and vulnerable.
A sudden rap at the window startled him out of his thoughts, so much that he jolted in his chair and barked in shock. He turned in his seat, and there outside, dimly visible in the fading light, was Aaron staring in at him with unreadable eyes hidden in the deep shadow cast by his hooded top.
Jackson rolled down the window, wincing at its familiar squeal as it descended. He assumed as best a nonchalant look as he could.
'Alright?' he smiled hesitantly at the face outside.
Aaron yanked down his hood with a free hand. 'What are you doing down here?' he demanded, probably more forcefully than he meant to.
Jackson immediately noted the lack of humour in the demand. Normally such a challenge would have been accompanied by Aaron's trademark smirk. Some days Jackson lived for that smirk. Not today though.
'Eh? Nothing… I, er, just got back from that site in Cloughton,' he offered, though he couldn't seem to look Aaron in the eyes just yet.
He looked down into his lap and pretended to fiddle with something under the dashboard, continuing, 'Just, er.. you know, gathering me thoughts, and all.' He finished by offering the mechanic a weak smile. He probably can't even see it, his mind added.
Aaron's brows knitted for a second, then loosened as he sent a glance up the street, and then back to his feet, his eyes still unreadable in the darkness. He hesitated, seemed to consider the evidence, then offered;
'Oh... right. I was just, er, walking Clyde, you know.' He too finished with a quick but speculative glance at Jackson's eyes, before, as usual, his gaze shifted elsewhere, and a fierce shyness seemed to overcome him.
Jackson leaned out the window a little and there indeed stood Clyde, Aaron's Alsatian, panting and looking at nothing in particular.
'Okay,' he offered, keeping his eyes on the dog at Aaron's midriff.
An awkward silence descended, cut only by the soft hum of music and conversation drifting down the street from the Woolpack.
'Look, I...' they both began, then stopped, and suddenly grinned at each other. Aaron huffed a small chuckle as Jackson's smile widened in response. Clyde yawned with a small whine, unmoved by whatever was passing invisibly between his master and the builder.
'You going to the pub?' Jackson offered to the waiting mechanic. In an instant, the atmosphere had lightened immeasurably.
Aaron's face seemed to have cleared. 'Yeah. Can do. Just got to feed this lump first.' He nudged Clyde with his leg gently. 'Are you coming or what?'
His thoughts on hold for the moment, Jackson made his decision instantly.
'Too right, I am,' he offered in return, as he snapped off his seatbelt and popped the door open with a squeal. As Aaron and Clyde watched, he locked his van, checked it again, and turned to join them, as they moved off.
They moved slowly up the street, Clyde between them. Aaron held onto the dog's leash with both hands, staggering slightly each time Clyde tested it. Jackson wandered alongside with his hands in his pockets, unsure where to look, but also, despite himself, glancing at Aaron's face, intent on his dog. Quite what he was hoping to see, he was unsure. The awkward silence resumed, following them up the street from the van.
Aaron stopped and turned to Jackson, swaying slightly as Clyde registered the halt a little too late.
He spared a glance up the street, as if gathering his thoughts, and then his dark eyes bored into Jackson's.
'Look,' he offered, a desperate thread to his voice, 'I gave Pearl her deposit back and squared the whole thing with her. She's fine. No harm done. Ask your mam, she was there.'
Jackson regarded his suddenly penitent boyfriend through the darkness. He peered at the face he loved, and so often despaired of, and for his trouble, couldn't discern an ounce of the smug arrogance it wore the last time he saw it. His heart swelled at the offering, despite the protestation of his mind that once again his faith was probably being led astray. Despite this, he kept his look as nonplussed as possible, hoping not to communicate the turmoil behind his eyes.
'Did you? Did you tell her the motor was clocked?' he responded levelly with a raised eyebrow. He expected a sudden increase in Aaron's defensiveness as response- a clear sign that he was bullshitting him again. It didn't come.
'I did, yeah,' responded the mechanic, keeping his eyes firmly on those of his boyfriend. His voice sounded only of someone who was being desperately sincere. Before he could offer further mitigation, their gaze broke as Aaron suddenly lurched sideways. 'Clyde!' he hissed, giving the dog a fierce stare and yanking firmly on his leash. Clyde clearly thought it was well past his dinner time and was ready to be off home.
Jackson chuckled suddenly, mostly from a sense of relief that washed over him, but also at the scene unfolding. In a second, the pensive thoughts and accusations that had accompanied his exit and return to Emmerdale that day seemed irrelevant and faded from his mind, displaced by his desire for Aaron, which surged through his chest like a flame.
Aaron looked indignant at Jackson's sudden turn of mirth. 'What's so flamin' fun-'
He was stopped short by Jackson's lips against his own. The builder, overwhelmed suddenly by his feelings, had closed the distance between them in an instant and pressed his mouth to Aaron's. His arms and hands followed the gesture, curling around the mechanic's torso, under his arms, and meeting lightly in the small of his back. The warmth that flowed between them in that instant was electric, and it didn't take much of an instant longer for the mechanic to realise he was forgiven, and tentatively to return the embrace.
With his free hand, Aaron bore into Jackson's eyes and reached up to hold the back of Jackson's curly head to his own, deepening the kiss, savouring the soft familiar breath covering his face and the familiar taste of Jackson's lips.
Clyde whined, now seated on the road and watching the two of them. Slowly, tentatively, they broke their kiss, but remained lightly entwined.
'What was that for?' asked Aaron, slightly out of breath and now truculent, dark eyes watching Jackson, attempting to decipher his boyfriend's suddenly loving gaze. 'Are you bladdered already?'
'I missed you today,' declared Jackson finally. He planted another kiss on Aaron's face, and then released his one arm, so the three of them could continue back up the dark street to Smithy Cottage. Clyde now occupied the outside of their formation while Jackson and Aaron stuck close together, hands entwined.
Aaron balanced a look of confusion with one of mollification, but didn't release Jackson's hand, nor did he separate from him.
'But what about the car?' he insisted suddenly.
Jackson's smile deepened. 'Sorted for now,' he offered, 'we can clear it up tomorrow.' He ducked his head and tried to kiss Aaron's pale cheek.
Aaron side-stepped Jackson's advance and shoved him off his shoulder, exclaiming; 'Gerroff, you perve!' His hand never left Jackson's though and like elastic they drifted back towards each other, both grinning like idiots, as Clyde marched ahead, having sighted the door of Smithy cottage, yanking at his leash.
Somewhere in the darkness behind, Jackson's doubts followed them, forgotten for now, as lust and love and forgiveness took their place, but never that far behind.