Some Jonnor for you. ;) Title is from Acquainted by my man The Weeknd. I definitely didn't take this fic lightly. Therefore, there are some trigger warnings here.
Underaged Sex, Underaged Recreational Drug Use, Pain Play, Eating Disorders, OCD, Cross Dressing, Homophobia.
I probably should have rated this M, but it most likely wouldn't get proper exposure if I did. Don't worry, this isn't a big angsty fic, but I did take a longer time on character study than I usually would for a smut-based story. Jude has never came out as gay here in any way-meaning the whole nail polish thing hasn't happened here, or the conversation with Lena in the bathroom. He also has never met Jack or, obviously, Connor- who are both quite OOC in this story. Enjoy. :)
Summary: This boy's like a hurricane, he thinks; a whirlwind of mass destruction. Jude can feel it in the way he pins his wrists to the wall with a tight grip and the harsh nips to his bottom lip. He feels it in his own stuttering breathes and ragged moans- those are the houses being torn apart, right there in his airdeprived lungs. Those are the people's cries for help.
It starts as an itch he can't quite scratch.
It's not literally an itch, not the type of stingy rash he'd gotten on a camping trip with Jesus and Brandon. It's a tingly sort of thing, a slow tickle whenever he visits Mariana in her room and listens to her brag on and on about the endless haul of clothes she bought at the mall with her friends. Girly clothes, with buttons and ribbons and pink floral prints that Jude tries to have no interest in.
This time, he's determined for it to be nothing like the last home.
It's been two years since he officially moved in with the Fosters, and he feels perfectly at ease. He knows this is family. And yet, there are still so many burning secrets, so many swirling emotions that he'll never own up to. There are so many things Jude refuses to do wrong.
Nope, everything is neat and right and put together in his neck of the woods.
"Jude," Mariana always says, "the almighty perfect one."
(She doesn't know about the stockings he keeps hidden under a loose floorboard in his room.)
(Doesn't notice the way Jude looks at her outfits with more envy and longing than he should.)
Lena and Stef, albeit, a little worried- Jude is almost sixteen; where are the moodswings, where's the inevitable teenage rebellion- are happy to have at least one seminormal child. Sure, Jude knows he's quiet, a little reserved and something of a nerd. But, he's not a nuisance, and that's always good. He's the perfect child, apparently. Mariana is going off to college this year, along with Jesus, and he's happy to be Stef and Lena's last baby bird in the nest. His moms have been put through hell with the other four of his siblings, and he's glad to give them two years of relaxation before they're left in solitude- well, left in solitude until all five of them come home for vacation because hello, they love their moms. Of course they're coming home during breaks.
Jude doesn't like looking too deep into the future, though. He'd rather focus on the present, the matter at hand. Like how Jesus won't stop pestering Jude about his hair- really, his hair of all things. Jude can think of at least five other things worth bothering Jude about; his squeaky voice, his tiny, short figure, his lack of muscle, his ugly mud brown eyes, the list really goes on and on...
"Are you even listening? Dude!" Jesus, very obnoxiously, claps his hands in front of Jude's face, snapping him out of his own self deprecation.
"What?" Jude whines lowly, a very manly whine at that. He has homework to do, doesn't his brother ever have homework to do? He's always either bugging Jude or locking him out of the room to have sex, and at times like this Jude isn't ashamed to admit he'd much rather deal with the latter.
"Listen to me," Jesus whines back mockingly. "You really need a haircut, man. Moms are too nice to point it out, but everyone's sick of you walking around with this dweeby, two-thousand-six skater boy hairstyle."
Jude doesn't even feel the sting of the comment; one because he doesn't care, and two because experience lets him know that Jesus never means to hurt anyone's feelings with his nonexistent filter- he just does. Besides, his brother's kind of right.
His hair has been getting kind of long lately. His bangs hang over half of his forehead, which gets annoying when you live in heated southern California, and his hair reaches past the nape of his neck. It's irritating, and not at all flattering, but Jude just hasn't cared enough to go and get it cut. He'd thought about doing it himself, had even tried styling it with some cheap dollar store hair gel, but he'd just ended up looking like some bootleg version of a nerdy Danny Zuko. So, he obviously wasn't going to try that again.
It wasn't such a bad idea, letting Jesus take him to get it cut. "Can I think about it?" He sighs, looking up at his brother through his glasses. He'd only started wearing them six months ago, after Callie finally noticed the way Jude always craned his neck down so he was practically two inches away from his homework, or a book he was reading, and slapped him on the back of his head. "Why didn't you tell anybody," she'd murmured, rubbing the back of his neck after he'd spent a ridiculous amount of time whining over the sting of her strike. He'd shrugged- he didn't think it was something worth telling.
Now, he sees it makes all the difference, being able to distinguish faces and not get numbers and letters mixed up when he sees them. Jesus says, "No," face completely blank. He laughs when Jude throws a pillow at him, unamused.
"C'mon, I'm leaving in seven months." His brother rolls over on his bed, tapping on Jude's leg in a way he knows he'll find bothersome. He doesn't care for unnecessary touches. "Bond with me, little dude. Tell anyone and I'll punch you in the throat, but I'm actually gonna miss you when I go away."
Jude still isn't moved, staring at Jesus, unimpressed. "You big dork," Jesus adds, obviously not liking the silence. Jude grins a tiny bit at that. Jesus's teasing was different from the kids at school. For Jesus, it was a show of affection, not a way to purposely jab at him, and Jude appreciates the effort.
He pushes aside his homework, sighing. "When do you want to go," he concedes. Even if he had decided he didn't want to go, Jesus would poke at him and complain and basically annoy him to the brink of insanity until he changes his mind. This was inevitable.
His brother pumps his fist in the air, happy to get his way. "Tomorrow," he says. "I actually already called to make you an appointment like, last week. I was kind of planning on you saying yes."
Jude thumps him on his forehead, feigning irritation, though he's not really surprised. Jesus is the younger twin, Mariana only being older by fifteen minutes, and he's always acted like it. He gets what he wants almost- key word: almost- every time, and whines his way into Jude's personal space more often than his little brother likes. The house has declared Jude with supoosed, "Killer Cuddles," and Jesus claims them whenever they watch a movie as a family- or really whenever Jesus wants them to be honest. He doesn't really care when and where they are or what Jude would rather be doing, which he's always complained about. He doesn't really mind, at all. He has a puppy for a brother, and he's secretly already declared Jesus his favorite foster sibling. Of course, only after they got past the whole 'Jesus Time' bullshit and negotiated to let Jude kick him out whenever he needed to study as an apology.
"Ow," Jesus whines, but the grin on his face still remains.
"What's the shop like?" He asks. Jesus is always bragging about his barber and how cool he is and how he's going to miss him severely when he goes to UCLA, but he's never actually met the elusive Johnny like everyone else, or even visited the barbershop. He can't help but be a little curious.
"Super chill," Jesus replies automatically. "Trust me, you'll like it. The guys are all nice, and I got you an appointment with Jeff. He's a little eccentric at first sight, but he's good with shy people. I know how you are, he'll keep up most of the conversation so you don't have to, plus he's funny. He'll distract you good enough and the cut'll be over before you even realize. So no need to worry your little antisocial nerdy butt off."
Jude rolls his eyes but mutters a thanks, and finally, finally Jesus leaves him be for the night, only informing him that they're leaving the house right after breakfast in the morning before exiting the room. Jude files it away for memory and just as he reaches for his homework, Stef's voice drifts up the stairs, calling him down for dinner.
Lena's excitement shows when Jesus proudly informs her he'd convinced Jude to get a haircuit, giving a slight squeal and a large smile. He knows it's more coming from happiness that he and Jesus are willingly spending time together than the actual cut; his moms were so proud to see how well they got along after getting past the initial annoyance of each other and getting used to sharing a room, as well as a family.
Jude and Mariana had instantly clicked, because, well, it was Mariana. All beauty and sunshine and smiles, who couldn't love her? He and Brandon got along good enough, as they both found the easy silence they could share comforting and a nice change from the constant chatter their other siblings provided. Callie probably didn't know it, and would never admit it, but even she talked a lot, and it was nice to be able to just share quiet company with someone, featuring the occasional joke and pleasant conversation. Callie was his definite 'not sold separately,' Mariana was his sunshine on a rainy day- or anyday because they live in San Diego- and Brandon was his silent companion, but Jesus? He was the pain in his ass. That all changed within his first year, when they learned to get along, but it was really only this year they really started to regard each other as brothers. Now, Jesus is just his protective, goofy older brother, though still the occasional pain in the ass.
Lena and Stef had probably feared they'd have two enemies to raise those first couple of months, Jude thought with a snort.
Jesus is still downstairs wolfing down the dessert Stef had so munificently made for the family, while Jude had passed because it's no secret sugar makes him bloat until he could be mistaken for a very pregnant whale, and he has enough insecurities as is, thank you very much. His door is left halfway open, and he can see everyone come and go through the hallway as he boots up his laptop. It's taking longer than usual and he guesses it's because he hasn't had a system update in a while, so he stares distractedly into the hall, watching the usual hustle and bustle that occurs before lights out. There's only one bathroom to share and a lot of teeth to be brushed.
Jude however, being the smart boy he is, always skips on dessert in favor of getting to the bathroom first instead of trying to cram into it while its busy, so he gets to experience the amusement watching his family struggle over space brings about. He watches Brandon try to squirt an overly large amount of toothpaste onto his toothbrush, and the excess falls down below him, onto the chest of Mariana's Mickey Mouse t-shirt.
"Seriously, Brandon?" He hears her huff. Brandon's apologies are slightly muffled by running water but Jude sees her roll her eyes as she exits the bathroom, pulling her shirt over her head as she enters the hallway.
And then his entire world might as well be oconsidered frozen because shit.
Jude thought he was over this. Christ, he damn near forced himself to get over this- this weird thing he has going on. This weird, freak thing he has going on that really needs to just go away.
His eyes catch on pink lace and it's hard to look away.
Jude knew he was different when he was eight.
Nowadays, he refuses to acknowledge that there's anything wrong with him. He's a normal teenaged boy, who looks at normal teenaged girls and lets Taylor take him out on regular, normal dates.
He figures that all the normalcy in his life can make up for all the strange, unnatural things he's done in the past.
(Like slipping on the dress that belonged to his foster dad's ex-wife.)
(Like twirling around in the long mirror he kept in his room back then, pleased at the way the silk looked against his pale skin.)
The first time Jude put on a girl's clothes, he was eight, of course. It was Callie's old skirt, and he had slipped it on in the privacy of the orphanage's bathroom when she was out playing in the garden. It was short and creamy coloured with ruffles and a bright pink bow settled at the waistline. It had felt so naughty, so secret and wrong that he took it off almost as soon as he put it on, yanking it away from his skin after chancing a glance in the mirror.
He had looked...weird, at first. His legs were skinny and too long, and his black polo paired with the skirt looked a little too- a little too much like it belonged there. As if it was a suitable outfit for Jude.
If my hair was a little longer, he had thought, I might look just like a girl.
That thought still terrifies him, almost more so than it did back then.
He did it more and more, growing bolder with every successful try-on. It had become his little hobby, slipping into Callie's clothes whenever she wasn't around, gazing at himself in the bathroom mirror with curious brown eyes. The door wasn't always locked, but whenever he heard footsteps come close to the restroom he always leapt to make sure it was. The last thing he needed was for Callie to see him in her stuff. She would be furious.
His little fashion shows came to an abrupt end when they got placed in Phil's home. When he saw him in that dress, he didn't hesitate to beat the living crap out of him. The whooping had hurt, but not as much as Callie's angry words after it did.
"You are a boy," she had screamed at him when they reached their room, Phil still fuming in the living area. "You're a boy and you will act like it before you get us both killed!" Then, in true Callie style, she promptly began to destroy Phil's car with a baseball bat.
Needless to say, he hasn't worn any female clothing since then.
He allows himself simple pleasures, like making Mariana show him all of her new buys when she gets back from shopping. He passes it off as brotherly love, just him making sure she doesn't leave the house looking tacky. But really he likes to look at the items; the shirts with sheer mesh sides and dresses with gorgeous, bright overlays, strappy heels that he knows he could never wear.
It's torture and relief all at once.
He even keeps some girlish things hidden around his room, in places Jesus would never think to look, for when Mariana hasn't gone shopping in a while. Which isn't very often, but, still. He can gaze at those when he gets the craving to, run his fingers along the soft fabric of stockings and tights and imagine what it would be like to put them on.
He never does.
He feels ashamed for wanting to, wishes the ground would swallow him up whole sometimes. When he sees Mariana shirtless in the hallway, it's like a punch in the face. Her soft curves and lacy attire remind him that he's a boy and the things he wants, he isn't supposed to. It's even worse than the lingering glances he finds himself giving to attractive guys- and that's an entirely new issue in itself.
It's tiring, constantly hating himself and battling with his conscious. So when he closes his eyes at the end of the night, he doesn't have to force sleep to come.
It simply does.
A/N: Okay, so, any thoughts? Hate it? Love it? Either way, let me know. If you hated it, that's fine, but try not to be a douche about it, 'kay? :)
In the next chapter: Connor makes an appearance, and Jude's new cut attracts attention to him that confuses him more than it should.
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