Title: Tastes of Home

Writer: Azure K Mello

Part: 10

Thanks to Jenn, for the beta!

Feedback: Please! I wait for it like a trained dog, plus I like to know what people are thinking, it's reassuring. Thank you to everyone who has already sent me lovely note! And to the people who sent me corrections!

Other notes in prior parts.

Again "bif" means boyfriend.

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"No," he said sarcastically, "I turn up and you start having nightmares again."

"Shut up," said Ephram harshly. "Don't fucking say that. This *isn't* your fault."

"Can I get you some juice or something to get your blood sugar back up?" he asked looking at his very pale bif.

"No," Ephram said focusing on the wall and then turned to him looking scared. "Actually there is something."

"Yeah?" he felt his stomach flip. Ephram was gonna ask him to leave. He knew that this was all too good to truly last.

"Get over your whole "no sleeping together," policy and come here." Ephram pulled the covers back and Jackson practically leapt on him. "Thank Christ."

Jackson laughed gently. "Am I that amazing?"

"Yes. . . but that's not my point. This is like. . . coming home?" he said questioningly, "Is that too gay?" There was no reply. "I guess that's a stupid question."

"No, I was just basking. . . It's not "gay" at all. . ." He looked into Ephram's face for a long minute before asking, "Is it worse if I say I missed your nightmares?"

"If every nightmare ended like this, I would wake up screaming every night." Ephram carded his fingers through Jackson's hair as the boy lay his head on Ephram's chest. He twined a floppy curl around his finger and smiled at the restless redhead's fingers that never stopped drawing patterns and writing words all over his shoulders and chest.

"Tell me about it?" asked Jackson gently in a pleading way.

"I'd really rather not." He watched Jack nod sadly, rubbing his head against Ephram's torso. "For Chrissakes, it's audible: I can hear you brooding. This isn't your fault. And if you don't stop blaming yourself I'll kick you all night."

"You will anyway." Jack smiled.

"But now I can say it's punishment instead of having to admit that I have the nocturnal habits of a four year old."

"I missed having bruises on my shins."

"It was the night my mom died," Ephram spoke seemingly out of nowhere. He kept his eyes on the ceiling and wouldn't meet Jack's gaze. Jack's eyes had a way that made him spill his soul out, he could get through a simple explanation but if he looked into those fathomless orbs he would lose himself entirely.

"You won the recital that night."

"I did."

"You always play so well when you're angry." When Ephram said nothing Jackson realized where it was headed. "It wasn't your fault."

"I was just so fucking angry. And if I wasn't such a petulant moody bitch she wouldn't have been in such a hurry to get there. If I was a normal person I wouldn't have been upset she wasn't there, she wouldn't have sped because it would have been ok for her to miss it. I'm the reason she's dead, Jack. It's my fault."

"No it's not. She wanted to be there, she needed to hear you play. It made her happy. You're amazing to watch. People would come from all over to see you. You. . . you're captivating. She wanted to be there just as much as you wanted her there."

Ephram pulled out the big guns expecting to repulse Jackson, "You're holding a killer."

Slowly Jackson sat up and looked at the boy, "I don't know where I find the nerve to be upset by that." He got up and paced. The eyes bore into his back as he pulled his hair back hard. "I fucked up severely, I know that. But the fact that you expected for what you just said to make me run still hurts. It's probably a valid idea. In the past I hurt you so fucking badly. And now you're trying to drive me away from you because you're waiting for the other shoe to drop, or you're expecting me to hurt you again, or something. . . but it hurts." He turned back suddenly and said, "You made her fucking happy! And I know that you know that. I know that you stopped playing for a long time because of that. You didn't fucking kill her. And I won't let you think that, which is why you just tried to push me away right? Because I won't let you wallow? You ask me to hold you and then you try to get me to run. Make up your fucking mind." He turned to look out the window his eyes shone coldly as he gazed unseeingly at the outside world, "You aren't a fucking killer. You were a scared boy. I love you. It wasn't your fault. You needed someone to blame and it was easiest to hate yourself. I wish you hated me."

"Don't say that," Ephram interrupted, "I just. . . I don't know what I'm doing." He leaned over the bedside table to grab his pack of cigarettes, but his fingers shook too badly to light one. Turning back Jackson took the lighter for him and lit the fag. The quick flash of light made Ephram's tears shine in the dark. Jackson reached out to wipe them away. "I'm sorry."

"Don't say that." Jackson sounded suddenly exhausted after his tirade. "You had a dream and I ripped you a new one. You don't need to apologize for anything."

"But you're right, I tried to push you away." He broke their eye contact and turned his head away, ashamed of himself. "I'm. . . I don't know what I'm doing," he repeated.

"Ok." Jackson sighed as he thought about his next words, he hated himself even before they were out of his mouth. He wrapped his arms tightly around himself as the cool air froze his bare skin. "This isn't an ultimatum, it's a choice. Ok? And I don't want to make things hard on you. It's just. . . I love you. And I will give you all the time in the world, I can wait. But if I get to hold you tonight I don't know if I'll be able to let you go in the morning. . . does that make any sense?" He raised his eyebrows in a lost but hopeful manner and took the cigarette without thinking when Ephram handed it to him.

"Come back to bed." He said simply.

"Are you sure?" Jack was angry at the quake in his voice. He wasn't meant to be getting emotional, he was meant to be calm while Ephram freaked out. "Just one question?" Ephram nodded as he took a pull on their shared fag. "Is this want or need?"

Thinking for a moment the pale boy said, "I know that if I say need you'll interpret this to be some "any port in a storm" situation. And it certainly isn't that. I need you because I love and want you and you're. . . you're my Jackson. I want you. I want only you." Ephram smiled sadly, "Would you get back here?" He grabbed the tan wrist in front of him and pulled Jackson back under the covers. "Now your feet are cold," he said with a smile gently admonishing his boyfriend, "see what happens when you pace all pensively? Yes, you look hard core and pacing helps you think but now you have cold feet."

Jackson smiled and hovered over him his floppy hair fell into Ephram's eyes, "I've been meaning to get in cut." Looking into Jack's eyes Ephram swallowed hard. "But then again you did always like my hair long."

"Can I have you?" asked Ephram in a completely level voice as he laced his fingers back into Jackson's hair.

"You always have me."

"That's not what I meant." Ephram laughed.

Jackson gave him a feral look, "I know damn well what you meant. You *always* have me."