In An Instant

Chapter 11: Semantics of Ascent

GENRES: Drama, Romance, Humor, Tragedy, Angst, ...pretty much everything. So...gen?

MILD CHARACTERIZATION SPOILERS for Chris Colfer's Struck By Lightning!

WARNINGS: lots of mentions of Sex and a shit ton of snark. Also, sexual tension. As if that wasn't already obvious.

PAIRING: Jesse St. James and Carson Phillips AKA Jarson AKA St. Phillips AKA Jarson St. Phillips. There may be mentions of other pairings down the line, especially ones from GLEE.

WORD COUNT: 3801

"Carson, the fork is supposed to go in your mouth."

Carson bit back the acerbic retort on the tip of his tongue, settling for a firmly placed glower, and continued to press the remaining noodles in his bowl towards the center under his mom's narrow gaze.

"I made this macaroni for you to eat. Not to play with."

At this, Carson let the spoon fall and clatter against the rim of the dish, raising an eyebrow at his mom.

"It doesn't exactly look edible. In fact, I'd say it's probably a lot healthier for me to just continue swirling it around. I want to check for cockroaches first."

"I made dinner for us to eat together," Sheryl Phillips retorted, with only the frays of a snap in her voice somehow. The tone hardened, though. "Now, eat."

Carson rolled his eyes.

"I did. And then you took it upon yourself to put more in my bowl."

"You're a growing boy," she tossed back. "Eat."

And then, as if he needed to have an example, she made a point of swallowing a forkful.

A small wince passed her features, mostly hidden, but Carson spotted it and smirked.

"You don't even like it. Mom, it's burnt. It's not a big deal."

She scowled at him.

"It's not burnt, Carson. It's just a different type of noodle."

"A black-spotted one? Exotic."

She gave him a look.

"Eat, Carson."

Carson eyed the noodles, then his mom, face twisting into a grimace.

"I don't get why we have to do this anyway," he fronted begrudgingly instead of following the irritated instruction. "Since when do either of us need to fulfill some stupid traditional household staple like sit-down dinners? We're both a little too busy and, I don't know, real, for this bullshit, aren't we?"

"Language," she commented and he snorted a bit, shooting her a look of disbelief.

"Since when? You and dad both used to use me saying fuck and bitch as entertainment for you and all your drunk friends when I was maybe two."

"Yeah, well, things have changed," she snapped back. "And maybe traditional things aren't so bad. I think we could use a bit of normalcy around here these days."

Carson paused, filling up his fork with black and orange noodles as his brow slowly furrowed.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means, maybe I want to have a connection with my son, is that so strange?" she asked irritably, pushing back a strand of hair and letting her own fork fall. "I recently was made to really take a look at our relationship and Carson, I'll be honest, I didn't like what I saw."

He dumped the noodles on his fork and started gathering them anew, his fingers wrapping a little tighter around the metal as he did so.

"Oh yeah? And what was the impetus for that?"

"You know," she said shortly.

"Did you see a vision at the bottom of a wine bottle?" Carson asked the noodles snidely.

"No, I had to walk in on my supposedly straight son with his boyfriend."

Carson rolled his eyes.

"I thought you didn't care. Don't be melodramatic about it. This isn't the Days of Our Children or All my Lives or whatever those awful soap things you watch are called."

"-And then she just told me that it was Days of Our Lives that she watched and that she'd stopped watching All my Children two years ago and that if I was going to keep having that type of attitude I could go to my room with the macaroni, but she'd see me tonight same place, same time, and the food would be even more burned than it was last night," Carson finished his story with a swig of coffee and a shake of his head. "Which is why I'll probably be given food with poison tomorrow if I skip out on tonight."

"Your mom watches DooL?"

Carson's eyebrow's scrunched together and down, his nostrils flaring.

"What the ever living fuck is DooL?"

"Days of our Lives," Jesse explained, giving him a look of horror. "Without Days of Our Lives, I wouldn't have fully realized my ambitions to become an actor. They change lives with the days of their lives."

"…Please tell me that's not the most important thing you gleaned from that."

Jesse sighed, shaking his head.

"It's so sad when the little people can't recognize amazing things right in front of them."

Carson let out an amused puff of air that became a yawn.

"The little people? I'm taller than you. And I do about three-quarters of your homework. And my taste is far better. You have a fansite dedicated to Paris Hilton and Lindsay Lohan."

"Don't insult them. They're just misunderstood."

"Jesse, did you at least hear the swishing sound of the point flying way over your head?"

"What was that about giving head?"

Carson drew up an eyebrow, unimpressed.

"Just that on the path you're on it's probably something you're only going to experience through a computer screen."

Jesse tilted his head.

"You finally set up the web-cam I gave you then?"

"Jess, it is far too early for this. Bottom line. Get to it."

Jesse sighed.

"Fine. You just suck the fun out of everything."

But he reached across the table as he said it, and seized Carson's hand in his, tracing the contours of his fingertips.

"I have an idea. But I don't think you'll like it."

"I never do, but since when does that stop you from sharing?" Carson asked in turn, taking another long drink. "What is it?"

"Invite me over for dinner."

"You were right, and no."

"Come on," Jesse whined instantly. "It's perfect! We can all bond!"

"I'm going to be tortured enough already with the food, and my mom's going to be being even more passive aggressive than usual."

"Unless Jesse is there to charm her socks off."

"Third person speech isn't helping your case."

"Carson, your mom and I have common interests."

"If you try and use that as grounds to attempt seducing my mom-"

"I'm not that perverted!"

Carson looked at him incredulously, though the effect was made much less impressive by the massive yawn that once more unhinged his jaw, and thus, by default, the expression.

"Yes, you are! I wouldn't put it past you at all, actually. …In fact, didn't you say your last girlfriend you were also sleeping with her mom?"

"There was time between the two and I never actually got Rachel to have sex with me," Jesse defended himself.

Carson eyed him over the rim of his coffee with a very obvious message of 'oh please'.

"It's a good idea," Jesse reiterated stubbornly. "I haven't seen her since her last walk-in. Why is it that every time I get you to relax someone has to interrupt?"

"It's called irony," Carson informed him blandly. "Just when you think it's not going to happen-"

"Whoop, there it is," Jesse finished for him with a smirk, licking his lips. Carson ignored the gesture in favor of his coffee.

"…Sure. We can go with that. Either way, it's a bad idea, not a good one."

Jesse squeezed his hand.

"You're just afraid of being dramatic where it's obviously needed. Carson, I'm an actor. I know how the story is supposed to go, and if I don't come over it would leave the story at an impasse."

Carson stared at him.

"You just not only said the word impasse, but also used it correctly..."

Jesse gave a smug smile.

"I take my craft serious, yo."

"And that ruined it," Carson said instantly, rolling his eyes and hiding a pulling of amusement at the lower corner of his lip. "Alright, fine. But only because I'd rather get this over with now than deal with you going on about it for the next week until I give in and it happens anyway."

Jesse grinned.

"You won't regret this."

"Can I get that oath on paper with a contract and a notary?"

Jesse's eyes gleamed.

"You're so cute when you're being an asshole."

Carson frowned.

"I'm not even remotely cute. That is an adjective that needs to be kept far away from me. Even further than your stupid terms of endearment."

"Excellent movie. We should watch it."

"We should finish up, actually. Have to get to school, remember?" Carson reminded him abruptly, pulling a binder off the empty chair next to him. "And have to get more coffee."

Jesse grinned, largely ignoring all but the last bit.

"That works! I'll go talk to Karen about getting more."

"Do I even want to know when you got on a first name basis with the barista?" Carson asked vaguely, his attention now wholly on the papers in front of him and his dwindling caffeine supply.

"Since she congratulated me on tapping that."

"…I'm going to assume you're paraphrasing."

"Nope," Jesse replied, grabbing Carson's empty cup and smirking. "Just quoting what I'm sure she was thinking instead of what she said. I'll be right back."

Carson glanced up from the binder to watch a moment as Jesse moved to throw away their empty cups and then go to the counter and chat up the barista, who glanced over Jesse's shoulder and caught his eye with a nervous smile. Carson looked away. No. He didn't want to know.

He double-checked the alarm on his phone reluctantly, then; he didn't want to leave, but school would not be denied.

"More coffee, sweetcheeks?"

Carson scowled deeply at that, a great sigh escaping him, even as his hand darted out to seize the cup.

"Jesse, we've talked about this."

Jesse shrugged, dropping back into the seat across from him.

"When it's this early in the morning, it's this or the grammar- you choose which goes, but you can't have your cake and eat it too." Then: "Unless I'm popping out of it. 'Cause then you can do pretty much anything you want, as long as we keep the frosting involved."

Carson dropped the binder in front of him, face stern, but eyes soft even as they went rolling.

"Jess, I-"

A beeping cut him off, and Carson shot the source a sharp look, then turned back to Jesse, expression bordering beleaguered.

"Jesse, I've got to start heading for school. Your work's all in there, okay? Get yourself another coffee on me, and I'll see you tonight I guess, alright?"

Jesse paused then nodded, providing Carson with a classic smarm-filled smile.

"You bet your sweet ass, Casper. Go get 'em."

Carson ignored rebuke in favor of a quick-as-a-blink hug, pressing a few bills into Jesse's hand, then pulled away, grabbing up the binder from the table and pushing it against Jesse's free hand.

"Don't forget to go through that. Bye."

And then he was gone.

Jesse waggled eyebrows at the door as it closed, then held up the binder before himself and gave it a wary once-over.

"For Carson," he told it.

Then, Jesse fell back into his chair, sipped once more at his coffee, and flipped into the school-work, beginning dutifully to read.

"Carson, you've cracked. It's official."

It was Malerie who spoke, thumping down next to him at lunch, and giving him her best shit-eating grin.

Carson looked at her, disconcerted, then back to his book and then, again, back to her, fingers rising to scratch at his temple.

"I thought you were living in Kansas now… When did you get back and why exactly am I cracked?"

"Oh I was, but I couldn't wait to come back-"

"Why?" Carson grumbled, but she ignored him, plowing right on.

"My aunt died, you know, so we didn't need to take care of her anymore, obviously. So, we got to come back! And, I can just tell. It's like radiating from you. And also, I ran into Miss President. She gave me the down lo'."

"Uh-huh," Carson nodded hesitantly. "You've been away for a while, but you should know better than to trust Chlamydia Claire."

"She also said you're gay now. Does that mean I get to have a gay best friend? Chlamydia Claire- I like that!"

Carson stared at her for a long moment, then snorted and smiled despite himself.

"It's fitting, isn't it? I'm not gay. I do have a… person, though."

"A guy person," Malerie told him more than asked, her grin knowing and conspiratorial.

"…Maybe. Why are you sitting with me, Malerie? Don't you have other people to- I don't know- catch up with or something?"

Malerie immediately beamed and stood herself up, smiling.

"I did totes promise Ms. Crail and Ms. Tetter I'd have lunch with them and tell them about the new books I'm writing. You always look out for me, Carson. I'll see you in the newspaper room, right?"

She didn't wait for him to respond before she disappeared, leaving an utterly bemused Carson staring after her.

That had been oddly easy and not unpleasant. God, Jesse was making him soft as a kitten.

A kitten- Carson groaned inwardly. He'd just made a cat reference. He clearly needed coffee. And maybe a good smack to the head.

Another shadow fell over his book, and Carson felt a hand grip his shoulder, its owner leaning forward so their lips were at his ear and their hair was falling like a curtain around their shoulder, obscuring both of their faces from view.

He didn't need to look up to know who it was.

"Piss off, Claire."

He'd absolutely looked a gift horse in the mouth before with Malerie, hadn't he? Oh, but this was turning out to be a hell of a day.

"Watch your back, Carson. I'd hate to see it get stabbed."

"Not like it hasn't happened before," Carson murmured back.

"What do you want?"

"Someone just told me that they were sorry to hear about my illness. And then clapped at me. You wouldn't happen to know what that's about, would you?"

Carson smirked.

"Oh yeah, I heard that too. Sounds like you hit a new low on the stupid scale. Really, Claire, with how much you get around, I'd think protection would be a priority for you- hate to see your reputation even more in the trash."

"You are so fired," Claire huffed in his ear. "Just wait."

And then, her hair swished back and she too was gone.

Carson grinned to himself, head shaking.

Chlamydia Claire… that had been a good one.

Ellen preferred him, so he wasn't scared. But he'd probably want to pull some overtime anyway, just to really secure things on that front. Still, Carson considered, that had been utterly worth it.

Hopefully, that would be the last of the drama for today; after all, he'd need his sanity preserved to some greater or lesser extent so that he could survive tonight.

Carson stifled a yawn in his hand, shook his head once more, smile still on his lips, and finally returned to his book and his peace until the bell rang.

Roses were invading his mouth and nose before he'd even fully opened the door.

Carson spit them out with a hasty step back, and fixed Jesse with a glare as the other stepped in, an only slightly malicious smile on his lips.

"I thought your mom might enjoy a little dazzling, seeing as you never let me."

"I thought you'd promised not to try to seduce my mom," Carson hissed back, disgruntled.

Jesse tapped him on the nose, and Carson jumped back once more, gaze narrowing.

"What was that?"

"You're adorable when you're jealous! You're reminding me almost of Seth right now."

Carson pointed a finger at him, mouth open ready to snap, when:

"Oh, look at the dashing Curly-Q, ready to save the dinner. I'd like to say I'm happy you're here, but- what's with the roses? Carson hates roses."

"Oh I know," Jesse sighed out, looking positively glum for a moment, before picking back up and bouncing toward her. "These are for you."

Sheryl looked distrustfully at him for a long moment, then slowly took the offered bouquet and proceeded to give it the same suspicious once-over.

Jesse slid his arm through hers, while Carson watched mortified, and pecked her on the cheek.

"You look just like Carson when you do that, Ms. Phillips. I hope your cooking skill was as genetic as the paranoia, because it smells amazing in here."

She withdrew her arm from his, but seemed almost pleased anyway.

"Finally someone who's not obsessed with complaining. Now, that is a habit he got from his father. Come in, sit down, let me get these on water."

"The sooner the better, though there's a bottle of wine I hid in the middle there and you'll want to pull that out first." Jesse informed her, walking right into the kitchen, Carson trailing him with his brows completely scrunched together.

"I've heard Carson's dad was a real dickhead, anyway. Must have been to complain about you or your food."

"Jesse," Carson groaned, taking his own seat and immediately putting his face in one hand while the other reached to try and pinch Jesse hard on the arm.

"Oh he was the worst," Sheryl Phillips replied, her tone growing impossibly more cheery. "I have some wonderful horror stories."

"That, some DooL gossip, and maybe some wine if that would be okay, and this may be the best hump day I've had in a while."

Carson's mom laughed loudly, looking thrilled, and Carson threw her a look of skepticism and then Jesse one of frustration. Neither reacted.

"I expect that will change once you an my boy start going at it," she said, and there was almost challenge in her voice.

"It definitely will," Jesse told her nonchalantly.

Carson coughed hard into his glass of water, spluttering.

"Honey, don't choke," his mom told him. "It'll make your gag reflex look weak in front of your boyfriend. Maybe you can convince him to drink, Jesse. I really think he could use it. When I was his age, I was going on two dates a week and had managed to become a local legend of beer pong. Let alone when I was yours, Jesse."

"I'm working on it, Sheryl. Trust me."

Carson reddened, gritting his teeth around a bite of too-dry brisket.

It was going to be a hell of a night. Or a night of hell. Carson didn't care to find out which applied, but he was sure going to.

He also may just have to take them up on that wine, or at least have another cup of coffee.

"Come back any time," Sheryl Phillips was calling out the door. "But remember, wine before roses. Or even beer!"

Carson was washing dishes while they said goodbye, trying still to figure out how the hell any of them had gotten from point A to point B. It didn't help that he'd been tag-teamed into trying wine- which he did not enjoy. The taste of it and Jesse's tongue were still in his mouth, though, and it only served to irritate him more that even if the taste was not necessarily pleasant, the feeling was.

The night had been a bitch, but…

"I like that boy," his mom pronounced, coming into the kitchen. "He might be too cool for you, Carson."

"Gee, thanks mom."

"Oh, don't talk to me like that," she retorted, some of the enthusiasm fading from her voice though not all.

"I meant what I said, you know? He's welcome here anytime. In fact," she paused then sighed. "If you have him come over for dinner like this, even just once a month, I'll let you off the hook on the meals together thing."

Carson frowned into the soapy water, not turning to face her.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah… You were right. That crap's just not for us."

Carson dunked a plate below the water level, holding it down while the words sat between them, then sighed.

"Thanks. I guess."

"Don't thank me. Thank that Jesse. He's a fun one. Reminds me of me when I was younger."

Carson coughed, head shaking.

"No. Nope. Don't do that- I will not have you put that Freudian bs in my head, mom. He was discredited. Go watch your soap. Fucking hell."

His mom laughed all the way to the living room, slinging with her a bottle of wine, and, despite himself as ever, Carson laughed too, though he also scrubbed the soap on the pot in front of him a bit harder.

Families were fucking weird.

But, Carson allowed, even if he would usually be perfectly willing to trade his, and hell, even if he still was, they made for some fucking great anecdotes and articles.

Small wonder he'd ended up a story man.

If he could just get a nice grip on them, maybe his family (and maybe his Jesse) could be the keys to his success in the newspaper world.

"Bring me a beer when you're done," his mom screamed over the sounds of ominous music coming from the tv.

Carson shook his head, calling back, exasperated, "Whatever, but you're not getting me to give you any aspirin in the morning."

They could potentially be great keys to his success as a journalist… if they didn't kill him or his sanity first.