DISCLAIMER: They belong to their producers and creators.
Rating: Very low
Thanks to house Cat, my beta... thank you again...
So It's just a repost.
My very first attempt to translate one of my fic in english...
Please enjoy...
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You're here.
He was turning again and again in his bed, tangled with the bedspread and sheets.
When He wasn't here, wasn't coming back from wherever He was, from the clubs, the frat parties, the skirt chasing...
He didn't sleep.
The cold light of the moon in the room didn't help him to sleep, his hearing, far sharper than usual, was on alert. Hearing the cars passing in the street, then slowing down, and then fading away from the house. None of them stopping there.
And finally, in the very early hours of the morning, he heard the soft noise of His bare feet on the floor.
The scent of His bath gel.
He knows he isn't asleep, but never says a word. Carefully lifting the comforter, slipping into the heat, joining him, hugging him, His mouth on his.
Fresh mint breath.
Kissing him senseless. Loving him passionately. Losing him in Him.
And his heart is stopping and beating wildly at the same time.
He came back.
Again.
He won.
Against them.
Those who draw Him away from his arms, those whom He needs to feel like a man.
He told him once that he agreed with their relationship, but He won't change his routine. He wasn't " Like that" even if it suited him for a moment.
He didn't want to become "Like that"
He was even adding the quotation marks as he spoke of it. And he, himself was nearly seeing the italic words in front of his eyes.
He wasn't like that, but he wasn't ashamed of his need and craving for Him, of His masculine body close to his, in his.
The need was changing slowly into a more complex feeling.
A necessity, renewed everyday, every hour more intense, more urgent, emptier without him.
He knew it wouldn't last; he contented himself with the present, and notched in his headboard, those times when He came back to him, when he snuggled in the curve of His body.
Revelling in Him.
There was nothing more painful than the thought of this time being the last one. Maybe.
Swept by life.
Their interaction during those days, full of adrenaline, in the lying hours of Life, when they didn't love each other, when they were playing their roles in the play of destiny.
In the secrecy that's suffocating him, in the hypocrisy that's consuming him, in the eyes of the others he couldn't stand to see.
His eyes, he can't meet. Never cross His gaze, always fixed on him.
Always answered by a sharp rebuff, never otherwise.
Digging the tomb of a love he didn't expect to feel.
He almost vomits when realisation hits him.
He loves Him.
It was love that kept him awake until the return of his wildcat.
His Playboy. His Don Juan. His Romeo.
His Ennis.
Believing himself to be Jack. Jack the lover. Jack the patient one. Jack the optimistic.
Jack who believed.
But he won't be waiting twenty years.
He won't waste their lives.
He'll just let go as soon as it doesn't hurt anymore, if one day it doesn't hurt anymore.
Before that, he will change the rules.
He will follow Him one night and will realise He's not clubbing.
He sits in a pub, ordering a beer or two.
Waiting patiently. Going to a theatre, watching a movie, eating in a fast food restaurant, nursing another beer.
And heading back home.
He showers to let him believe there was somebody else, brushes his teeth to remove the smell of beer, and with a thumping heart, will come back to him at last.
Without giving up to this love that consumes him, that carries him off, that makes him fly up in the sky, without confessing to himself he is "like that".
But only a bit, and only with him.
Then he will give up, and imperceptibly He will notch Himself in the headboard of this bed, those nights when He isn't clubbing.
Not clubbing anymore.
Those quiet mornings, mornings without the fear of it being the last of this devastating love, consuming love.
And one day, early in the morning, in his arms, He will tell him those three words He never expected to tell and, he, didn't expect to hear anymore.
"Love you Jethro"
He will catch his breath, a tear well hidden in the corner of his baby blue eye and he will whisper:
"Me too, Tony.
The end.
With love
Kisses