We Could Take To The Highway
By: Jondy Macmillan
A/N: Roadtrip fic? Because I guess every fandom needs one? I wasn't going to write this until Here Be Dragons was finished. But then I somehow killed Firefox, and decided to do something to fill the time between its death and when it finally decided to start working again. Since that might or might not end up being kogan, and I'm becoming increasingly attracted to Kendall/James, I decided to write a pure Jendall fic. Just in case. I hate these hybrid names. They sound so silly. But guys, we need more Jendall, or whatever. We need it. Because, because…I'm horrible, and like to ship unpopular pairings?
What happened was an accident.
James hadn't meant to drink all that liquor. How was he supposed to know that someone had spiked the punch with cognac? Who even thought cognac was an appropriate punch-spiking-drink, anyway? When it was all coming back up his throat, he found himself wishing fervently that it had been vodka, or rum, or some kind of normal alcoholic beverage that wouldn't have tasted nearly so sickly sweet when regurgitated.
Bastards and their fucking hoity toity cognac.
Really, that night was mostly a blur. They'd been on tour, except it was like, a prelim tour. Their real tour was scheduled for the summer, when Rocque Records would inevitably decide they were famous enough to actually spring more than a couple grand for their marketing campaign. This was just- like a demo, to see if Big Time Rush could impress a few small town bumpkins and the occasional city club full of hazy-eyed waifs who fancied themselves indie-intellectual types. The kind of people who wouldn't even dream of fangirling (or fanboying, as being in a boy band tended to draw out those poor guys who were integrating embarrassing musical choices into their search for their sexual identity) over four boys doing synchronized dance moves.
Of course, James had already known they'd be impressive.
He and his friends were always impressive. It was one of the things he liked best about them.
'Cause seriously, no way would he hang out with losers who didn't know how to shine like stars, even if he'd never imagined they'd all end up- well, as stars. He'd kind of pictured a different sort of life, to be frank. Maybe he'd even fantasized he'd outshine all of them, and end up having to buy them mansions and Maseratis for their birthdays so that they'd bow down to him to worship him like the benevolent boy-deity he was.
But this whole group thing, it was good too.
Anyway, he hadn't worried that the preliminary tour was somehow going to impact his career. He'd played up the stress of course, because James's role amongst his friends was to be the Dramatic One, the one who was so over-the-top that it invoked laughter, even in times of crisis. He was damn good at his role. Still, inside, he knew. They were almost there, almost Big Time.
Which might be why he'd allowed himself to get drunk.
After the first few drinks when the edges of the room started to soften, he figured out the punch was a little more than puréed Hawaiian fruit. He wasn't stupid, god. It just tasted so damned good. Which, okay, he realized when he was worshipping at the shrine-of-porcelain-and-miscellaneous-unidentifiable-grime in their hotel room that he'd made a miscalculation when it came to the actual amount he'd consumed. He might not have been stupid, but he also wasn't Logan; math wasn't his thing.
At the time though, he'd been having fun, he'd been enjoying the perks of being so-close-to-famous, and things like consequences hadn't mattered so much. Which might explain why, after all that alcohol, he'd let himself stumble, soppy and drunk, right into Kendall's arms outside the club.
"Dude," Kendall had laughed, trying to keep him upright, "You're so fucking trashed."
James had laughed like he had a secret and whispered, "I know."
Kendall had been outside because he was chatting up some nameless girl who was smoking, which was something James thought looked cool but had kind of seemed detrimental to his hockey-playing and of course, his singing. He'd tried it, once, twice, or maybe thirty times while at parties. He smoked socially, sure. But mostly he stayed away, because he had the tendency to be easily addicted to things, like hair gel, and he didn't want to add any more addictions to his list. Especially not one that would have Logan rattling off mortality rates to him every time he lit up.
"Give me one," he requested of the girl, who was sort of hipster chic and not at all impressed with the way James was hanging all over his best friend.
She obliged though, maybe because she was scared he'd hang around and puke on her shoes. He wasn't even close to puking right then, and wouldn't be until the morning, when the sun burned holes through his eyelids and the entire world was touched with vertigo.
Kendall was amused by James's attempt to light the cigarette, eventually taking over and cupping a steady hand over the flame while James breathed in.
"You know those things will kill you," he observed mockingly, brushing dark blond bangs from his mischievous eyes.
Kendall had the best eyes. Sometimes James wished his eyes were as cool as Kendall's, even though he had perfectly good eyes, so good that they got compliments when he was just walking down the street.
"I'm pretty sure if I died right now, I'd die happy," James replied, taking smoke into his lungs and holding it there, even though that wasn't really how it was done. He liked the burn of it, the way it stole the oxygen from his head and made him dizzy in a different way than the alcohol, in a way that made his knees go weak.
Kendall laughed. He laughed a lot, which was really one of the greatest things about Kendall, and snatched the cigarette away, which sucked. Then he started puffing on it, which was kind of okay. James didn't mind sharing. He'd gotten an 'A' on it in kindergarten and everything.
Standing side by side, inhaling a cloud of carcinogens beneath the smoggy sky reminded him of when they were fourteen, and would sneak James's dad's cigarettes on the slanted roof of his house. They'd been able to climb out of James's window, up and up onto the slate gray tile. There they'd lay sprawled on their backs, at one with the trees and the sky and the stars.
"Do you think we're going to make it? Big Time Rush, I mean," Kendall asked, staring out into the blackness of the alley they stood in. As far as alleys went, it was alright, with red brick and black asphalt and the whisper-crunch of garbage underfoot. Plus it kind of smelled like raw sewage, but James thought that was typical of most alleys.
"Duh," James replied in a self-satisfied tone, "Have you heard us? We rock."
"Oh," Kendall said, and James wasn't sure if it was a happy 'oh' or a sad 'oh', but there was definitely something melancholy in his tone. Kendall obviously hadn't had enough punch.
"Don't worry," James murmured, purposely misinterpreting the 'cause of whatever it was Kendall was going through, because he was three sheets to the wind and decidedly too drunk for a serious conversation, "Just because those girls in Teen Beat magazine voted that you had the most unattractive eyebrows doesn't mean they think you're the worst of us. I mean, Logan still can't sing or dance. And hey, you beat Joe Jonas!"
"Um," Kendall cracked a smile, his lips curving over the yellow filter of the cigarette, "Thanks, I think."
James nodded sagely, "You should thank me. I'm awesome. Someone needs to appreciate that."
"Oh, I appreciate it."
"Are you sure, Kendall? Because I don't think you do," the taller boy challenged, thinking it was all in good fun.
Only, good fun didn't usually involve standing so close to his friend that their noses touched. Kendall's eyes darted up, meeting James's devilishly, "I guess I'll have to prove it then."
James wasn't really occupied by the funniness of the situation anymore. The cigarette rest between his fingers, burning slowly away so that he could feel the heat as it neared his skin. Kendall's breath brushed his lips, and that weak kneed feeling was sort of taking over, so much so that James lost his balance. At the exact same moment, the cigarette burned all the way down to the filter, blistering his fingers.
His mouth parted in surprise as he tripped forward, dropping the offending object, and suddenly, Kendall was- kissing him.
For a second, he turned cold. His spine and his ribcage felt frozen, gripping his heart in ice. It was like ghostly fingers were trailing along his body, and he couldn't fucking breathe.
Then, suddenly, it was okay. He didn't understand it, but James was of the opinion that you didn't need to understand something to appreciate it, like fine art.
And he kind of really appreciated Kendall's mouth on his.
He wasn't sure if it was the warmth that flooded in after the chill departed, or if it was the fact that Kendall was a fucking artiste with his tongue, but it didn't really matter. He kissed back.
If someone had asked, he would have sworn there was nothing else he could do.
They broke for air, and Kendall's eyes were darker than James had ever seen them, all pupil, like an animal. He was fisting the front of James's jacket, which was genuine Italian leather and extremely expensive, but James couldn't figure out how to make his throat work to tell his friend he had to let go.
He didn't want Kendall to let go, because he was certain that grip on his jacket was the only thing keeping James standing.
"I- uh. Okay," James said, pleased that he'd managed to form actual words instead of guttural sounds, even though he hadn't actually said anything at all.
Kendall patted his cheek and glanced around for the cigarette. He was a little dismayed to see the butt burnt out on the ground, but when he met James's eyes again, he was all smiles.
"You're right, you know. We do rock. We should get back in there and make sure everyone knows it."
For the first time in his life, James didn't want to mingle. He wanted to know what the hell had just happened. He wanted to know if there was a meaning in that kiss, the way there was meaning in music lyrics or poetry, the way girls defined it and he never had.
But he was drunk, and Kendall was smiling so brightly it hurt, and a tiny, dark part of him murmured that there was no way that could Ever Happen Again.
So he nodded and he said, "You're right. But first, dude, you have got to try the punch."
That had been years ago. Well, a year and a half ago, actually, but it had been the longest year and a half of James's life.
For one thing, they were famous. James's biggest dream had come true. He couldn't walk down a side street in California without being barraged by screaming girls and paparazzi. They'd done a national and a world tour. He'd been to freaking Japan. James Diamond, who'd never even left mother fucking Minnesota had now been to Japan. It was like, a miracle.
One that Kendall had made happen.
James was completely aware that he owed everything to his best friend. Everything.
He was also completely aware that Kendall was pretty much the best kisser in the entire universe, but he tried not to think about it. When he thought about it, things got sticky.
Things that included his sheets.
This was also something he tried not to think about.
Anyway, a year and a half was a frickin' long time. Even aside from the paparazzi, James was perfectly aware that if they were still in Minnesota, they'd be entering their final spring as high schoolers. Here, their education was a little further behind. World tours tended to slow down the learning process.
At least, for most of them. Logan had already gotten his GED, because Logan was too intelligent for his own good.
Plus, aside from the popstar thing, they were all starting to get their own side careers. James had landed a few modeling campaigns. Carlos had gotten guest spots on a few sitcoms. Logan was taking online university courses. Premed, of course. They were all doing their own thing.
Except for Kendall.
It bothered James. A lot.
On their days off, he'd come back from a casting call to find Kendall stretched across their couch playing video games, or lounging poolside in the backyard, or being generally non-productive. They didn't live at the Palmwoods anymore, since they'd gone from future-famous to actually famous, and even though their new, studio gifted mansion was amazing, James felt the emptiness of it sucker punch him in the gut on days like that.
Mrs. Knight and Katie had stayed back in the hotel, where Katie could keep up with her Palmwoods classes and her auditions. James thought maybe their absence hurt Kendall even more.
He tried talking to Logan about it, once.
"We need to get Kendall out of his slump," he proclaimed, sprawling across Logan's bed while Logan pored over some book on advanced molecular biology.
"Kendall's in a slump?" Logan queried, not even looking up from the thick pages of text.
"Um. Yes. You haven't noticed?"
"I've been kind of busy lately. I have an exam on organic chemistry coming up and-"
"How can you even take a chemistry exam online? Shouldn't there be like, laboratories for that?"
"They're holding a practical at the community college," Logan retorted, annoyed, "That's what I have to study for."
"But- dude, it hasn't just been this month. Or last month. He's been like this all year."
"Like what? James, Kendall's being Kendall. It's not a big deal."
"It is," James insisted, "Doesn't it bother you that he never leaves unless it's for food or the studio?"
"Or parties," Logan added.
"Or parties," James amended.
"Or dates."
"That too."
"Or going to the beach, or driving up the coast, or taking Carlos to Disneyland, or taking you to Sea World, or-"
"Okay. I get it. He goes out. I'm just- doesn't he seem sad to you, sometimes?"
"I think all the chemicals you put in your hair are getting to your brain. Kendall's fine."
James's hand flew to his head, "I do not put chemicals anywhere near- wait, do you think that could happen?"
Logan ignored him.
Point was, that talk had been completely unhelpful. James remained convinced that Kendall was suffering some kind of depression that was totally unworthy of the fame and fortune Big Time Rush had been gifted with. He still smiled twenty four seven, and he still had that fantastic laugh, but James knew. Something was missing from Kendall's eyes, and if James maybe had an inkling of what it was, he didn't let himself think about it. It was just one more thing on the list.
The list that included that kiss.
He did so well, not thinking about any of it. For a long time.
So goddamned well, that when James maybe, totally accidentally, eavesdropped on Kendall the day their old hockey coach called, the memory of the kiss that was kind of branded in his mind took him by surprise. The recollection that maybe Kendall had been moping around their fabulous California mansion because he was homesick for Minnesota overwhelmed him.
And he couldn't not think about it anymore, because their coach was saying softly, a thousand miles away, "Son, you were the best center we ever had. We won't make it without you."
All James could hear was Kendall's soft breath on the other line. He could practically feel the indecision his friend was experiencing, even though James was in the kitchen three floors down from Kendall's bedroom.
Finally, Kendall said, "I'll think about it."
"That's all I'm asking," their former coach responded, hanging up.
Kendall was going to think about it. The one thing James hadn't been able to do, because thinking stressed him out and gave him zits and made his hair greasy and unfit for performances.
Only, if he'd thought about it before, maybe he'd actually know what to do now. What to say, when Kendall walked into the kitchen searching for a bowl to pour his Lucky Charms in.
He might have said something a hell of a lot more eloquent than, "You should do it."
"Excuse me?" Kendall's lips twisted at the corners, his brow furrowing.
"Go back to Minnesota. Play for our team," James explained, and Kendall didn't exactly look delighted to find out his best friend had been listening in on that conversation, "We don't have another tour until the summer, and the new album's already been laid down. There's no reason you have to stay here."
"James-"
"You always said your dream was to play for the Wild, and you gave that up so I could have my dream, and I do, and it's great, dude, but- this? It's an opportunity to have your dream back."
"My dream is being here, with you guys."
"And you have been. You are. You still can- but there's going to be college recruiters there."
"James-"
"College recruiters, who are going to see how awesome you are, and seriously, on top of it all you're famous, so colleges are going to be chomping at their bits to get you anyway," James continued.
"James-"
"This way you get to choose who chooses you, really-"
"James!"
"God, what? You don't have to yell."
Kendall, bless his soul, was staring at him like he'd lost his mind, "You really want me to go? Spend the season in Minnesota?"
James thought about it.
No, he actually didn't want Kendall to go anywhere. He wanted him to stop being homesick for a place that was so godforsaken cold that James had actually snowshoed his way to school more than once. He wanted his friend to stop longing for girls who thought plaid was the height of fashion and teachers who thought teaching evolution rather than creationism was optional and parties that were really glorified keggers. He wanted Kendall to see how much better California was, because everyone here was shiny and happy and maybe a little plastic, but who cared?
Most of all, he just didn't want Kendall to leave him all alone for an entire season, because they'd been friends since forever and they'd probably never spent more than a month apart.
But he wasn't a crappy friend. He wasn't going to be selfish anymore.
"Yeah. Don't you think it's time to live for yourself? Even just a little."
Kendall scrutinized his face, quiet, not answering.
A glint of silver caught James's eyes from the opposite end of the counter. His car keys. He'd gotten his California state license the previous summer, right after their tour.
Maybe he could be just a little selfish.
"I'll even drive you there."
A/N: -ducks- Is it horrible? Ack, I'm so nervous.