Author: pandora1017
Rating: PG-13
Content: Angst, slash
Notes: Ok, I'm not sure how angsty this is, but I'm going to call this angst and if you don't agree... well, I don't care. This is another from my "Ideas Thought of in the Shower" series. You'd be surprised how many times I get them there. Hmph - and my musi claim they don't want to see me naked. ;-) *random slashy musi pass out in fear* Anyway, I'm pretty sure Edge doesn't have a sister, but bear with me here. I'm borrowing the "Al Bundy" comment Edge made in an interview a little while ago. I'm also borrowing the phrase "incredibly rainbow-wearing flaming" from Amanda, so I wanted to make sure to give her props for that and making me laugh every time I talk to her.
Characters: [still not mine]
Jason Reso = Christian
Chris Irvine = Chris Jericho
Adam Copeland = Edge
.
You are gay. Look at you. You have a boyfriend. You're wearing a shirt that sparkles. The shirt belongs to your boyfriend. You are incredibly, rainbow-wearing flaming.
I sighed and turned away from the mirror before I decided to commit suicide by shoving a dildo down my throat. Ok, so maybe the mirror wasn't the source of the problem.
With a loud, exaggerated sigh, I dropped onto the couch in the middle of my boyfriend's living room. Somehow, I could no longer bring myself to call him Chris. He wasn't Chris anymore - he was my boyfriend. My boyfriend was currently in the shower, getting ready to take me out to a club. My boyfriend thought I was feeling down lately, so my boyfriend decided that he would cheer me up with a night on the town. My boyfriend didn't know that he was the reason I was acting like this.
Not that there was anything wrong with my boyfriend. I liked my boyfriend a lot. I mean, he was my boyfriend. I had to like him if I chose him, right? Well, I guess he did kind of sort of choose me - but I willingly agreed, right? I suppose when a beautiful man kisses you and you 1) kiss him back and 2) call him beautiful, you are pretty much asking to get a purple triangle tattooed on your forehead.
I'm not ashamed. That's not it at all. I have no problem with gay people. My boyfriend is gay. And I, as a gay man, enjoy the benefits that come with having a gay boyfriend. Yes, I am referring to those lewd, heathenistic acts you're thinking of. My boyfriend and I do them often. We like to, because we are gay.
So where is all this goddamned stress coming from? I've accepted the fact that my boyfriend turned me gay. I mean, he showed me that I was gay. Even he can't turn someone gay. But something was still wrong with me. I'd been with my boyfriend for going on three months now. That's longer than the majority of my heterosexual relationships had ever lasted. I'll admit, I have a better time with my boyfriend than any girl I've ever been with. Maybe this stress is just because Chris is my first boyfriend. Is there some sort of being gay adjustment period? I assume that would have been from the time that Chris first started flirting to when I started calling him my boyfriend. There was a certain degree of acceptance inherent in that moniker. So where was the problem?
I dropped my head back and slouched down in the couch a little further. I felt uncomfortable alone here in my boyfriend's living room. My boyfriend had made it abundantly clear that I was always welcome here, and we had christened a number of - scratch that, I reminded myself as I kicked my feet onto the coffee table - all of the furniture pieces in the room. But it still felt sterile to me. How the hell does a room give an impression like this? It's a freaking inanimate chamber, full of inanimate objects, all owned by a man who loves me. But when I look around, all I see is the inanimation - not the love.
I found that I was absently tugging on the hem of the red, sparkling, button down shirt I was wearing. Something in the back of my brain was quietly dying in protest, but I had promised my boyfriend I'd cooperate with his "Night Out" idea. Of course, he hadn't mentioned anything about sparkling club clothes in the original agreement. I assumed that he'd at least have me wear something out of my own closet. I didn't even like dance clubs. But my boyfriend, I guess, was trying to share something that he loved with the hope that I'd come around. I sneered slightly, at no one in particular. Yeah, right. Maybe I could get out on the dance floor and embarrass him enough to convince him to take me home before the crowds started forming. Maybe I should just go home now. I could tell my boyfriend that I was feeling sick, then go curl up in my own bed and die or something.
I didn't mean that. Well... I don't think I meant that.
I suddenly realized that was the second time in the last fifteen minutes that I'd contemplated my own death. I didn't think these were typical pre-clubbing thoughts. So shoot me, I'm atypical.
I sighed. And there I go again.
"Jay?"
I sat up and looked up over the back of the couch quickly, startled by the voice. I must have been so lost in my thoughts that I hadn't even heard the water turning off. My boyfriend was standing at the end of the hall, his gloriousness only covered slightly by a towel fixed snugly at his waist, and drying his hair with a second towel.
"Yeah?"
"I'm just checking on you. I thought it was awfully quiet out here."
"Did you want me to talk to myself?" I asked. That did not come out as light as it sounded in my head, and he frowned.
"I... I just figured you'd be watching TV or something."
I smiled, trying to show that I had been joking. I was 98% sure that it didn't come across this time, either. "I'm fine, Chris, don't worry."
My boyfriend smiled back at me and crossed over behind the couch to gently placed a kiss on the top of my head. "Yeah, you are."
He looked me over with a satisfied smile and played with my hair absently. "Are you wearing your hair up tonight?"
"I was planning on it," I answered defensively. He just smiled, then leaned in for a short kiss.
"Ok, I'll be ready in ten minutes."
"Take your time," I muttered as he went back down the hall.
"I heard that."
"You were supposed to," I called, sinking back down into the couch. Well, I guess I couldn't accuse my boyfriend of being wrong. I was being a prick. I sighed, resolving to try and play nice tonight. My boyfriend hadn't done anything wrong, and he didn't deserve for me to be so shitty with him.
My brain fell silent for a moment, listening only to the sounds of the house. The clock ticking, the refridgerator running, my boyfriend singing bad metal in a screechy falsetto voice in the bathroom... I tried to remember what I'd been thinking about before my boyfriend had come out from the shower. Oh, right, being gay. I found myself wondering what would happen if I were to ever "marry" my boyfriend. Would I be Jay Irvine? I wasn't about to fool myself into thinking he was the bitch in our relationship.
What the hell was I thinking? Jesus God, listen to me. I needed some air. I jumped up quickly and stepped out onto my boyfriend's back porch. The air outside was warm, but not humid. It felt nice, and I leaned on the railing, facing the backyard of my house and the house of my best friend, Adam, next to it. My house was completely dark, of course. It was empty. Adam's was mostly dark, save a blue tinted light from the television that eminated from the glass doors to his own back porch. Lucky bastard, he gets to sit at home and watch the Bond marathon on TBS in the comfort of his own living room tonight instead of going to some loud, obnoxious, sweaty club. I bet he was slouched down in the couch, remote in one hand and the other half in his pants, Al Bundy style.
I noticed I was frowning now, thinking of Adam. Adam had taken my coming out surprisingly well. He literally helped me survive it. He was very supportive of my relationship with my boyfriend, too. Our relationship didn't start 'til my boyfriend and I were switched to Raw, but when I started figuring out that I was gay, I had been deathly afraid to tell Adam. I don't know why, he had always been there for me. He hadn't killed when I told him I lost my virginity to his older sister, so why would he be upset with my sleeping with an unrelated man? And he hadn't been, of course. Maybe he had an idea before I did. He often knew me better than I knew myself, so it wouldn't surprise me to find out that he had pegged me to switch teams from day one. Especially after I lost our contest freshman year to see who could sleep with the most girls. Heh, Adam probably wouldn't have taken my coming out so well if I had won that bet.
Three months ago, I would go to work every weekend, traveling with my boyfriend - who was just Chris then - then come home for the days that both rosters had off and dish to Adam all the things that had happened. Adam knew I was scared, but he always helped me understand that what I was doing was ok. He convinced me that I was better off being honest with myself. We would sit on that very couch he was most likely sitting on right now and discuss everything from the political issues to the ethical issues that went with sexual orientation.
I had a sudden desire to be on that couch again. I wanted to be there, with Adam, watching Dr. No. He could check out the Bond girls and I could check out young Sean Connery. We could order a pizza and just veg. I wouldn't have to wear a sparkling, button-down shirt and I wouldn't feel this overwhelming tension I felt when I was with my boyfriend. I was never tense around Adam. We had grown up together. We had been best friends for as long as I can remember. I had never been able to talk to anyone like I could talk to Adam. I could go for weeks with out talking to him, then pick up right where we left off. We were so close we finished each other's sentences from time to time. I could have a good time just staring at a wall with Adam. That's not the kind of friendship you just find anywhere. I love Adam.
Wait.
Now, this was by far not the first time I'd said those three words. I'd often said those words. But this was the first time since I came out that I'd said them. I was playing by a new set of rules. Loving Adam meant -
What the hell is this feeling in my stomach? Why do I suddenly feel the need to vomit? Oh shit, I'm disgusting myself. I can't love Adam. I can't. That would... that would ruin everything. Sure, Adam didn't mind my orientation - when I was orienting on Chris. But... oh, shit. I wrapped my arms around my stomach, going slightly numb. Adam... Adam was the only person I'd ever said I loved before. I'd never said I loved Chris. I'd never thought about loving Adam as... oh, shit. I put a hand out and leaned heavily on the railing, suddenly reeling at the realization. Oh shit, oh shit. I'm going to be sick. Something in the back of my mind was having a field day, dumping thoughts of how obvious it was that I loved Adam on me. I was never tense around Adam... I had never been able to talk to anyone like I could talk to Adam... We were so close we finished each other's sentences... I could have a good time just staring at a wall with Adam...
Oh my fucking God. I love Adam. I fucking love my best fucking friend. There were so many rules against that. Especially since it was Adam. Of all the goddamned people in the world - Adam. Fuck. Fuck, shit, fuck. Fucking shit. I saw a light flip on at Adam's and looked up quickly. He was in his kitchen. I could fucking see him. He was standing in his kitchen, raiding his fridge, wearing nothing but a loose pair of basketball shorts.
He was gorgeous.
Fuck, no, don't say things like that. Ignore it. Ignore the perfect smile, ignore the hair that fell in beautiful blonde curls on his broad shoulders, ignore the sharp, dramatic features of his face. Ignore it all. Oh, shit. He was standing up and finishing off a carton of milk, drinking directly from the carton. Ignore the chiseled stomach, ignore the way his adam's apple slid up and down his throat as he drank. Ignore his -
Why the fuck are you still looking at him? I demanded of myself quickly, forcing myself to look down at the railing. It went in and out of focus momentarily and I felt lightheaded. Oh, shit, oh shit. Why did I even need to look at him? I had already admitted that I was in love with him before I realized that he's just as gorgeous on the outside as he is on the inside. Why... why... why hadn't I realized this earlier? Shit, no, that wasn't a helpful thought either.
"Jay?"
Chris's voice almost made me nauseous. I swallowed nervously and tried to regain some semblance of composure. After a moment of silence from me, Chris's arms slid around my waist and his chin rested on my shoulder. He laughed slightly for no reason other than just being in an obnoxiously good mood. "Are you ready to go, babe?"
It made so much sense now. That was why I always felt so tense around Chris - I wanted to be with Adam. Nothing would ever feel right, I could never love Chris like I love Adam. Chris could never measure up. Chris was domineering, loud, and jarring. Adam was calm, rational, and... tall. Adam was comfortable - broken in. But Chris was... Chris was my boyfriend. And Adam would never be. I looked to Adam's kitchen once more to see that the light had been turned off, leaving just the glow of the TV once more. I looked down to my boyfriend's hands on my stomach slowly, then set my hands on his with a sigh of resignation. "Yeah. Let's go."