Notes: Once again, thanks for the reviews, guys! This chapter's pretty short. Sorry about that, but when I'm writing I don't usually split the fics into chapters. That makes awkward stuff. Ah well. Anyway, this one's just a short lead-in to the next chapter, where the poo hits the proverbial fan. :)
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One week later, Adam once again found himself watching Jay from afar, but at least this time his presence was known. He sat at the top of the bleachers of a local high school gym, feeling a bit out of place in his black leather jacket and newly bought clothes. David had insisted the previous day that Adam buy new clothes for a business dinner party that he'd deceived himself into believing his son would attend. Adam couldn't kill the satisfaction bubbling inside at the thought of what his father would do if he knew Adam was wearing the outfit while reliving his childhood, watching large guys in tights pretend to hit each other.
It had taken several days for Adam to work up the courage to ask Jason out, due in part to his generally shy nature, but mostly because of having already convinced himself that Jay was totally and completely straight. All evidence certainly seemed to point in that direction. However, Common Sense had beaten Newly-Found Courage to a bloody pulp in the eternal inner struggle for emotional dominance, resulting in him faltering at the last minute and instead treating Jay to lunch at McDonald's. Nothing said "I like you" more than chicken nuggets, or so Adam had jokingly told his wounded ego. As something of a grateful return gesture, Jay gave Adam free tickets to that evening's event and invited him to come watch. Adam wasn't altogether certain that he could really watch a sweaty, shirtless Jay in skintight clothes.
Nevertheless, perseverance had always been Adam's strong point and major character flaw, so he was willing to give it a shot anyway.
Jay, meanwhile, was happily oblivious to the fact his not-so-secret admirer had been watching his every move and, at the same time, been trying to once again figure out how to ask him out. Rather, he was attempting -- and unsuccessfully at that -- to find his socks. He distinctly remembered throwing them on top of his duffel bag before heading to the shower after his match. They were not, however, anywhere around the bag, beneath it, inside it, beside it, or anywhere else to be seen by the human eye.
It was for that reason he was acutely aware of the mild snickering behind him. Of course, he couldn't really blame whoever it was for laughing; they had just entered the locker room to see Jay on his hands and knees, halfway beneath a wooden bench, digging through the pile of discarded clothes from various wrestlers in hunt for his socks.
"Jay. Dude. Do I even wanna know?"
Jay gave a quiet sigh of defeat and backed out from underneath the bench, resting back on his heels. He scrubbed a hand through his hair, still damp from the shower, making a few loose strands plaster themselves to his face. "I lost my socks."
"You're the only guy I know who needs a fucking secretary just to keep track of all his clothes."
Erin Walker was nothing if not observant. He smirked, settling down beside Jay's gym bag and looking down at his friend.
"And the sad thing is, that has pretty much nothing to do with getting laid."
Jay rolled his eyes and gave up on his search, choosing to just settle for what he still had in his possession. "Y'know," he started, slipping into a heavy gray sweatshirt, "I swear I think that's the only thing you think about."
"There's something else worth thinking about?"
"Food."
"Jay, buddy, we're wrestlers in training, and unlike you, I actually have to pay attention to what I eat. That means living off granola bars and oatmeal for the next thirty years or so."
Jay arched an eyebrow in protest. "Fine. Sports. You're Canadian. You're a hockey fan by default."
He was met only with a broad grin. "Yeah, but sex doesn't have an off-season."
"I was right the first time. You're just a lost cause." Jay shook his head while sliding a belt through the loops in his jeans. That was when he noticed Erin watching him intently. "Um . . . there a reason why you're lookin' at me like that?"
Erin shrugged carelessly, immediately turning his attention to unlacing his wrestling boots. "Just wondering about something."
"You know where my socks went, don't you?"
"I had nothing to do with your sock crisis, Jay. I wouldn't touch the things. God knows where they've been." Erin mocked a shudder, easily dodging the shoe thrown at his head, making it connect noisily with the locker behind him. "Actually, I saw you with that guy earlier. Somethin' you're not tellin' me?"
Hands pausing at his belt buckle, Jay frowned and turned inquisitive eyes to the older boy. "Huh?"
Erin huffed in exasperation. "Don't tell me it's been that long since the last time someone checked you out." When greeted only with a blank expression, Erin chuckled nervously. "You, uh, didn't notice, did you?"
"What was I supposed to notice?"
"Dude. He was all over you. It was almost cute in a sickening sorta way."
Once his brain finally registered what was being alluded to, Jay fastened his belt and then slumped down onto the bench on the opposite side of his bag. "Nah, I don't think . . . I mean, look at him. The guy's a freaking Adonis, just about. He could get any girl he wants."
"Sweet, naive, dumbass Jay," Erin shook his head, clapping his friend on the shoulder, "open your eyes, man. He don't want a girl, okay?"
Jay, too stunned to say much of anything, leaned back against a locker and focused on the overhead lights, flickering just slightly the annoying way flourescent lights always seemed to do when he was around. Adam wasn't gay. Gay guys were supposed to be touchy-feely and write poetry and watch sunsets, not be avid hockey fans and with what was probably the world's most exhaustive collection of rock and metal magazines. Adam knew that Evil Dead was a movie and, moreover, had seen it! He couldn't be gay. Jay knew it.
Then again, that would certainly explain quite a few things about him.
Jay groaned and let his eyes slide shut. Why did these things happen to him? And, more importantly, why didn't the idea of being a possibly gay guy's object of affection revolt him, or even bother him as much as he knew it should have?
Before any significant amount of time could be devoted to the questions eating at him, Jay's thoughts were interrupted by something soft hitting him in the face. He looked down to see a pair of black socks resting in his lap. Erin stood at the door, grinning smugly.
"You're so easy. But hey, man, you had a good match. See ya next Friday, huh?"
Jay gave a numb, uncaring nod, watching the locker room swing shut and connect with a loud metallic sound. Suddenly, the socks didn't seem quite so important anymore.
------
One week later, Adam once again found himself watching Jay from afar, but at least this time his presence was known. He sat at the top of the bleachers of a local high school gym, feeling a bit out of place in his black leather jacket and newly bought clothes. David had insisted the previous day that Adam buy new clothes for a business dinner party that he'd deceived himself into believing his son would attend. Adam couldn't kill the satisfaction bubbling inside at the thought of what his father would do if he knew Adam was wearing the outfit while reliving his childhood, watching large guys in tights pretend to hit each other.
It had taken several days for Adam to work up the courage to ask Jason out, due in part to his generally shy nature, but mostly because of having already convinced himself that Jay was totally and completely straight. All evidence certainly seemed to point in that direction. However, Common Sense had beaten Newly-Found Courage to a bloody pulp in the eternal inner struggle for emotional dominance, resulting in him faltering at the last minute and instead treating Jay to lunch at McDonald's. Nothing said "I like you" more than chicken nuggets, or so Adam had jokingly told his wounded ego. As something of a grateful return gesture, Jay gave Adam free tickets to that evening's event and invited him to come watch. Adam wasn't altogether certain that he could really watch a sweaty, shirtless Jay in skintight clothes.
Nevertheless, perseverance had always been Adam's strong point and major character flaw, so he was willing to give it a shot anyway.
Jay, meanwhile, was happily oblivious to the fact his not-so-secret admirer had been watching his every move and, at the same time, been trying to once again figure out how to ask him out. Rather, he was attempting -- and unsuccessfully at that -- to find his socks. He distinctly remembered throwing them on top of his duffel bag before heading to the shower after his match. They were not, however, anywhere around the bag, beneath it, inside it, beside it, or anywhere else to be seen by the human eye.
It was for that reason he was acutely aware of the mild snickering behind him. Of course, he couldn't really blame whoever it was for laughing; they had just entered the locker room to see Jay on his hands and knees, halfway beneath a wooden bench, digging through the pile of discarded clothes from various wrestlers in hunt for his socks.
"Jay. Dude. Do I even wanna know?"
Jay gave a quiet sigh of defeat and backed out from underneath the bench, resting back on his heels. He scrubbed a hand through his hair, still damp from the shower, making a few loose strands plaster themselves to his face. "I lost my socks."
"You're the only guy I know who needs a fucking secretary just to keep track of all his clothes."
Erin Walker was nothing if not observant. He smirked, settling down beside Jay's gym bag and looking down at his friend.
"And the sad thing is, that has pretty much nothing to do with getting laid."
Jay rolled his eyes and gave up on his search, choosing to just settle for what he still had in his possession. "Y'know," he started, slipping into a heavy gray sweatshirt, "I swear I think that's the only thing you think about."
"There's something else worth thinking about?"
"Food."
"Jay, buddy, we're wrestlers in training, and unlike you, I actually have to pay attention to what I eat. That means living off granola bars and oatmeal for the next thirty years or so."
Jay arched an eyebrow in protest. "Fine. Sports. You're Canadian. You're a hockey fan by default."
He was met only with a broad grin. "Yeah, but sex doesn't have an off-season."
"I was right the first time. You're just a lost cause." Jay shook his head while sliding a belt through the loops in his jeans. That was when he noticed Erin watching him intently. "Um . . . there a reason why you're lookin' at me like that?"
Erin shrugged carelessly, immediately turning his attention to unlacing his wrestling boots. "Just wondering about something."
"You know where my socks went, don't you?"
"I had nothing to do with your sock crisis, Jay. I wouldn't touch the things. God knows where they've been." Erin mocked a shudder, easily dodging the shoe thrown at his head, making it connect noisily with the locker behind him. "Actually, I saw you with that guy earlier. Somethin' you're not tellin' me?"
Hands pausing at his belt buckle, Jay frowned and turned inquisitive eyes to the older boy. "Huh?"
Erin huffed in exasperation. "Don't tell me it's been that long since the last time someone checked you out." When greeted only with a blank expression, Erin chuckled nervously. "You, uh, didn't notice, did you?"
"What was I supposed to notice?"
"Dude. He was all over you. It was almost cute in a sickening sorta way."
Once his brain finally registered what was being alluded to, Jay fastened his belt and then slumped down onto the bench on the opposite side of his bag. "Nah, I don't think . . . I mean, look at him. The guy's a freaking Adonis, just about. He could get any girl he wants."
"Sweet, naive, dumbass Jay," Erin shook his head, clapping his friend on the shoulder, "open your eyes, man. He don't want a girl, okay?"
Jay, too stunned to say much of anything, leaned back against a locker and focused on the overhead lights, flickering just slightly the annoying way flourescent lights always seemed to do when he was around. Adam wasn't gay. Gay guys were supposed to be touchy-feely and write poetry and watch sunsets, not be avid hockey fans and with what was probably the world's most exhaustive collection of rock and metal magazines. Adam knew that Evil Dead was a movie and, moreover, had seen it! He couldn't be gay. Jay knew it.
Then again, that would certainly explain quite a few things about him.
Jay groaned and let his eyes slide shut. Why did these things happen to him? And, more importantly, why didn't the idea of being a possibly gay guy's object of affection revolt him, or even bother him as much as he knew it should have?
Before any significant amount of time could be devoted to the questions eating at him, Jay's thoughts were interrupted by something soft hitting him in the face. He looked down to see a pair of black socks resting in his lap. Erin stood at the door, grinning smugly.
"You're so easy. But hey, man, you had a good match. See ya next Friday, huh?"
Jay gave a numb, uncaring nod, watching the locker room swing shut and connect with a loud metallic sound. Suddenly, the socks didn't seem quite so important anymore.