Title: Tastes of Home

Writer: Azure K Mello

Part: 11

Thanks 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.

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Upon waking he found fingers tangled in his hair and a warm face pressed into his shoulder. Hot, moist breath was being pushed across his bare skin and he felt himself melt. Shaking his head clear of the fog he said, "Time to get up." He tried to roll the redhead off of him but Jackson dug his fingers into Ephram's scalp and held him tighter.

"No," came a sleepy reply.

"No?" asked Ephram with a laugh.

"I'm tired, your warm, therefore you stay."

"I have to piss."

"I don't care. *I* have to cuddle."

"I love it when you're still asleep, great things come out of your mouth."

"Fuck off, Phram. I need my sleep and I need you here to acquire that sleep."

"That's hardly my fault."

"You're right, *I* was pounding *myself* into the mattress at five this morning, and then *I* was kicking *myself* all through the night." Jackson drew light patterns on Ephram's shoulders as he spoke yet his eyes remained closed and he was most defiantly asleep.

"Sorry, baby." Said Ephram with a sheepish smile.

"Missed that."

"Missed what?"

"Being baby."

"I still have to piss."

"Fine, but I want you back here." Said Jackson rolling over into the bed and away from Ephram. Curling in on himself he looked so innocent and pure, like a child in his fetal position. "Hurry up." Ephram smiled and kissed his forehead and pulled on flannel pants wordlessly.

Sliding out into the hallway he bumped into a fully dressed Delia who simply smirked at him, "I liked it a lot better when you were all cute and innocent," he said in a dark and petulant tone.

"Sleep well?" she asked and then walked away without waiting for the reply.

Rolling his eyes he continued on to the bathroom. After doing numerous things including putting in his contacts and brushing his teeth he was ready to face the day. But upon entering his room the sight of Jackson sprawled out he felt his resolve melt, "Ten minutes." He slid back into bed. Like a heat guided missile Jackson wrapped around him instantly. "It's two o'clock. Dad's at the office doing his weekend hours and Delia is downstairs with Madison playing a board game. And I want to get up in a bit."

"Kay, in a bit." He quickly fell back into his deep sleep.

Out of the corner of his eye Ephram saw Jackson's jacket on the floor next to his bed. He was bored: Jackson was asleep. Ever so slowly he leaned out of bed just barely nudging Jack off of him and grabbed the coat. He wasn't quite sure why he was so careful in his movements, he knew for a fact that Jackson could sleep through anything. The pockets jangled with the sound of all the things carried there in. It had always been fun to see what *was* living in the coat at any given time. Generally speaking there was a rotation of objects and new things were contently being added while the old simply disappeared.

Jackson had never had a drawer. Everyone has that drawer or shoebox. Their passport, and a picture of themselves with a group of people, a plastic jewel they got from a gumball machine: all the things that they feel are important in some way are locked in one drawer. But even as a child Jackson had been secretive and thought his parents would go through a drawer if he had one. And then when he was 15 they found out he was gay and kicked him out of the house for a while. He had been thrilled that there was nothing that he valued stashed anywhere in the house. He had stayed with friends and his aunt for about a year before his parents had asked him to move back in when he had turned sixteen. In that year their relationship had been tepid at best. Nothing was said was ever said on the subject either negative or positive. After realizing how badly they had screwed up they tried to fix things, but they still wouldn't accept the one thing that actually mattered. Trust was something that Jackson valued and he no longer trusted them. They had tried at Christmas to buy his affections back with a Fender; he had been touched by their superficial thoughtfulness. However the things in his pockets remained there and never saw the light of day inside his parent's apartment.

When someone was taken into his confidence he trusted then implicitly. And when this happened they had open access to his pockets. Some people think the eyes are the entrance to the soul, but it's not true. That drawer, box, or pocket is how you tell who a person is. And anyway, most people couldn't look at Jack's eyes for too long. But Ephram loved his eyes, just as he loved rifling through his boyfriend's stuff.

A Polaroid picture made him laugh. It was blurred as if the photographer had been moving while taking it. Olivia, Jax, Danni, Chloe, Andy, and Jack sitting on a couch laughing, toasting the photographer. It wasn't a brand-new photo as Danni still had her blue hair. Underneath Jay (who had obviously taken the picture) had written, "I apologize, but when drunk I cannot be expected to stand still for that long." The picture made him miss them all over again. There was a piece of sea glass, four beer bottle caps, an acorn, three fortune cookie fortunes, two lighters, a piece of string, a razorblade choker necklace, and a few ticket stubs to concerts and movies. The last thing he found made him gasp.

The noise and sudden intake of air made Jackson wake up. He could sleep on a busy airport runway but the minute he thought Ephram needed something he was awake. "You ok?" He asked and then he groggily looked up and saw what Ephram was looking at. His eyes widen at the sight of the tube. Ephram had trained him to think of it as "slippy stuff". Ephram had informed him that if he had even thought of calling it the "forbidden L word", lubricant, he would be dropped faster than a hot stone. "That's not what it looks like, well, it is what it looks like. But it's not what you think. I mean, I don't even know why I have it but something was nagging me that it was important and I haven't been able to throw it out. It's not like I used-"

"I know," he smiled at the ranting boy.

"You know? You trust me?" he asked sounding somewhat amazed.

"Yes and yes. I know you haven't used it," he turned the half empty, beaten up, metal tube over in his hand, "Because it's in the same condition it was when you stole it from me nearly two years ago." Ephram hand the tube to the bewildered boy and pointed out two sets of initials. "I was bored, you were asleep, I found a pin. So you've had this in your pocket for two years? That's either touching or off-putting."

"Let's go with option one." He leaned up and kissed the pale boy, "You brushed your teeth! Damn it, now I have to get out of bed."

"No, you taste of warmth and sleep." Ephram wrapped his warms firmly around the taller boy's hips. "You're awake?"

"Yeah," he agreed rolling to the side to face Ephram, "why?

"I think we should get the uncomfortable bit of the visit out of the way."

"Oh, please let's not." As he moved away from him slightly.

"Chloe told me about how you're parents took you back in." Ephram had been in their apartment when they had thrown their son into the streets, he had lived with the Browns for three months. Jackson said nothing he simply looked away. "Are you ok? Are they ok?"

"I don't want-"

Ephram interrupted him, "You'll have to tell me sometime, isn't it best to get it over with? While it's just us, warm and safe in bed?"

"If you get this question I get three."

"Ok."

He sighed and said softly, "They're trying."

"Yes, they're very trying."

"Hey!" he sounded suddenly angry, "I'm baring my fucking soul here. Save your snide commentary to use on someone else."

"Sorry, love, I'm sorry."

"I know that you have some idea about this. I know your dad isn't exactly thrilled about you but at least he isn't outwardly hostile."

"Sometimes I wish he was. It would be better than him pretending to be clueless. Your parents screamed when you told them. My dad just smiled benignly like he was lost and told me he had to go out. And last night, it was so obvious he recognized you he just didn't want to deal with it."

"He loves you."

"Your parents love you."

"Yeah, they're just also disgusted." He grimaced.

"That's not true, they just . . . need time." Ephram shrugged.

"It's not like I want them to introduce me at parties, ya know? 'This is our gay son, Jackson, we want him to march in the parade but he has no pride,' I'm not asking for that."

"Really? 'Cause I would love it if my dad did that to me," deadpanned Ephram.

"They tried to buy me off with a Fender. It was rather pathetic."

"Did they know you were . . . did they know you were coming to see me?"

"Yeah, my dad gave me gas money, my mom helped me pack and neither of them looked me in the eye. But they said to say "hey" to you."

"No they didn't, but that's ok . . . God, I'm sorry."

"It's ok. Now I get my three questions!"