Chapter Text
Age 21.
Pre-mustache-Josto is getting ready for bed. He exits the bathroom and is brought up short by a figure leaning against the wall outside the door.
“Jesus Christ, Milligan! You scared the hell outta me! Thought you were a ghost!” He catches his breath and looks Rabbi up and down. Rabbi has his arm in a sling, his face looks pale and drawn, greasy hair, oversized shirt, pants sagging with no braces. “You look like shit.”
“Thanks, I feel like shit.”
Josto walks around him to his room.
“Bathroom upstairs broken or something?”
“No, I was actually waiting for you. I, um, can I ask a favor?” Josto sits on his bed, Rabbi hovers in the doorway.
“Can it wait? I’m going to bed.”
“It’s just, um…” his one good hand fidgets with the hem of his shirt. “This is kind of embarrassing, I wouldn’t normally ask you, but…look, my back is on fire and it’s driving me mad. I have this stuff to put on it, but I can’t reach” he holds out a tube of ointment. “Could you…?”
Josto pulls a face. “Are you seriously asking me to touch your scabby back?”
Rabbi’s face reddens and he makes to leave. “You’re right, that’s gross, I shouldn’t have…”
Josto sighs. “Wait.” He waves him over, “Come here.” Rabbi crosses the room. Josto stands and holds his hand out for the tube. “Turn around.” Rabbi does. Josto lifts his shirt up, revealing a swath of abraded skin.
“Damn, that’s some road rash you got. Looks painful.”
“It is. Although, it itches more than anything now.” Josto squeezes some cream onto his fingers and dabs at the injuries. Rabbi hisses and he smooths it on more gently. He rubs little circles across his shoulder blades and down the spine. It would be a really tender moment if only Josto could keep his mouth shut.
“When you fell out of the car, I really thought you were a goner! Can’t believe you didn’t break your neck. Luck o’ the Irish, eh?”
“I don’t feel lucky. Everything hurts.”
“My god, I can see every bone in your body! Don’t you eat?”
“I’m copacetic” Rabbi sighs. “Ooh, that’s cold…” Rabbi comments as he slathers more on.
“Could grate cheese on your spine.” He runs a finger down Rabbi’s backbone, making him shiver. “It’s creepy.”
“At least I’m tall” Rabbi deadpans. Josto flicks his ear. “Ow! What did I say?” He flicks again, Rabbi flinches his ear to his shoulder in defense. “He can dish it out but he can’t take it.”
The teasing mood is dampened, however, when Josto runs his hand over a criss-crossed set of older scars on Rabbi’s back.
“How’d you get this?” Rabbi stiffens and turns pink.
“You know how” he mutters.
“The strap?” He has a brief moment of stinging sadness because he recognizes the marks.
“Just leave it. Please.”
Josto clears his throat to cover his gaffe. He doesn’t want to think about the other scars they share, so he finishes with the lotion and lowers the shirt down.
“Thank you, that feels better already.”
”No sweat. Seriously, Rabbi, you gotta take better care of yourself, you look like a corpse. I haven’t even seen you in days, do you have food up there?”
“I have peanut butter and bread, some apples. Cans of tuna, too, but I can’t work the can opener one handed.” Josto rolls his eyes.
“Idiot, just come down to the kitchen.”
“I do at night sometimes, but your mam don’t want me cluttering up the place while she’s cooking. And she’s almost always cooking.”
“She said that?”
“She didn’t have to.”
Josto’s brow creases. “It’s weird that she never took to you. Normally, put a skinny boy in front of an Italian mother, she’ll feed you ’til your stomach explodes. Italians love feeding people. With those puppy dog eyes, I’m surprised she didn’t suckle you at her bosom.” Rabbi shrugs, somewhat wistful.
“Well, I was a changeling, wasn’t I? Mustn’t get attached.”
“A what?”
“A changeling: a child taken by faeries and a fae child left in its place. A hateful thing, to be sure.”
“Ugh, you Irish and your fairies! That old auntie of yours used to leave milk out for them. It’s the 20th century, for Christ’ sake!” Rabbi chuckles.
“Your father wears an amulet to ward off the evil eye.”
“Malocchio is no joke!“ he pokes Rabbi’s chest. ”Anyway, seeing as you’re grievously injured and all, I could have a word with my mother about you eating downstairs.”
“Oh, no, you don’t have to do that. I’ll be fine, I don’t wanna cause trouble.”
“Don’t be a martyr, it’s nothing. Just until your wing heals. How’s the ol’ bullet hole?”
“What do ya mean ‘how is it’? It’s a bullet hole, it hurts.” He touches his arm reflexively.
“I bet. Ya know, I’m the only man in my family who hasn’t been shot. Kinda starting to feel left out.”
“Yet.”
“What?”
“You haven’t been shot yet.”
“Good point. All this food talk is making me hungry.”
“Me too.”
“Lets go get something to eat.”
“It’s late, I already brushed my teeth.”
“You can brush ‘em again. Come on! ”
Rabbi doesn’t have time to protest, Josto drags him by the sleeve downstairs to the kitchen. Rabbi sits at the table, slightly winded from the stairs. Josto opens the refrigerator and scans it for something good. He pulls out pan of leftover lasagne and sniffs it.
“Still good. Just have to heat it up.” He puts it in the oven and then stares at the knobs. “Which one turns this thing on? Do I have to light it or something?” Rabbi gets up and goes to help him.
“No, it’s automatic, just push the button. Here” he turns the correct knob.
“Well, how should I know? I don’t cook; thats what women are for.”
“I won’t tell your girlfriend you said that.”
“Well, girlfriends are for something else! *eyebrow waggle* Wanna drink while we wait?” Josto stands on a chair and looks in the cabinet above the stove. “Got some hooch in here somewhere…”
He jumps down and takes a swig from a bottle of gin.
“Blech, its horrible! Here, have some.”
“No thanks, you just said it was horrible.”
He takes another pull. “Ya know, it was your father who got me drinking this stuff.” He wags the bottle at Rabbi, who frowns and looks away.
“Well, there’s your first clue you shouldn’t be drinking it.”
“Shouldn’t do a lot of things. But we do.” He shrugs.
“That’s…” Rabbi sighs and trails off.
“What?”
He debates saying what’s on his mind - that Josto always does the wrong thing but suffers no consequences, meanwhile he tries his best and nothing ever works out - but decides its not worth it. “Nevermind.”
He holds out the bottle again. “Go on, it’ll help the pain.”
Rabbi relents and takes a sip, grimaces and hands it back. They sit in silence for a few minutes and pass the bottle back and forth until the smell filling the room tells them the food is hot. Josto serves it up and they both dig in.
“Mmm, nothing like getting drunk and eating lasagna!” Josto exclaims. Rabbi nods in agreement. After a beat he adds “Remember last time we did this?” Rabbi blushes and puts another bite in his mouth. “‘Member what we did after? That was fun. Maybe when we’re done eating -“
Rabbi cuts him off with his mouth full: “I don’t think we should do that again.”
“Shouldn’t do a lot of things” he repeats, “but we do.”
“It’s wrong, though.”
“So what? Everything we do is wrong. Besides, you liked it.” Josto nudges him with his elbow.
“I would have liked it better if I got some reciprocation.”
“You got the privilege…” Rabbi glares at him. “Ok, ok, I’ll return the favor this time.”
“What about your girlfriend?”
“What about her? She’s not gonna know. Besides, it’s just jerking off, it doesn’t count.”
“If it doesn’t count, why can’t she know?”
“Well, I don’t wanna hurt her feelings. Look, don’t get me wrong, she’s a keen dame, great in the sack” Rabbi rolls his eyes at the obvious bluster, “but girls just aren’t good at hand jobs. Its like a chore for them. But queers love it! *raises eyebrows* Don’t gotta tell you it won’t break, right?” Rabbi’s eyes bug out.
“Fuck you, I’m not queer!” He seethes. Josto pulls a wry face.
“Come on, kid, I know.”
“You don’t know! How do you figure you know?”
“Well, for one thing, you gave me a hand job.”
“You begged me to!”
“You didn’t have to say yes.” Rabbi makes a frustrated face.
“But you wanted me to; if I’m ‘queer’ then what does that make you?”
“Horny. Besides, I sleep with girls. You’re not even interested in girls.”
“How would you know what I’m interested in, you hardly ever talk to me!”
“We’re bumping gums right now.”
“Yeah, now that no else is around.”
“Oh is that what this is about? Come on, I’m the Boss’ son, I have a reputation to uphold.”
“Right. Can’t be seen fraternizing with the help.”
“Exactly.” Rabbi shakes his head with chagrin. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way” Josto backtracks.
“There’s literally no other way to mean it.” Rabbi’s done, so he stands. “I’m tired, I’m going to bed.”
“Oh, don’t be like that. You know I like you. I wouldn’t have done any of this tonight if I didn’t like you.”
Rabbi knows he should leave it at that - that he should be grateful for even that small concession - but the state he’s in, both physically and mentally, has left him with zero fucks left to give. He’s been holding this in a long time and it’s boiling over:
“You like me? I seem to remember not 3 years ago you telling anyone and everyone who would listen that you didn’t want, and I quote, ‘that bastard son of a pervert stinkin’ up my house.’”
“That was before I knew you! And I was pissed off then, you know, about… everything. It’s different now. I’ve seen what you can do out there, we’ve had some swell times; you’re alright.”
“Ya know, I still get spit on by the very same people I have to count on to have my back in a jam. I can’t even go to the bathroom in the club without a knife, in case someone corners me. If you’ve changed your mind, it would be nice if you told people that. You’re a Fadda, your opinion holds sway.”
“If it’s so bad, why not tell my father? He won’t let anything happen to his little pet project.”
“Because then I’d look weak. I can take care of myself; I’m just saying - you could make my life a lot easier if you really wanted, if you cared, but you don’t. As a matter of fact, I got seriously injured and for 4 whole days no one checked on me or even called up the stairs to see I wasn’t dead. If I hadn’t come down you wouldn’t have missed me. You can’t say you like me when you didn’t even notice I was gone!”
“Oh, boo hoo, poor, lonely bog boy! We would have come to looking for you eventually, but there’s nothing for you to do when you’re injured.”
“Exactly, you’re making my point: I’m useful, until I’m not.”
“I don’t get you, Rabbi. First you want me to talk to you, now you don’t - which is it?”
“It’s not about what I want, it’s about the way you view me; what I am to you - your employee, not your friend. And I’m fine with that, really. But we shouldn’t blur the lines with any more…funny business.” He turns to leave, but decides to part on a more congenial note, since it’s never a good idea to be on the mini capo’s bad side. “Thanks for helping me with my back earlier. And the lasagna, I appreciate it, I do. And for what it’s worth, I like you, too…” He leaves off the ‘sometimes’ in his head. On his way out he adds “Don’t leave the plates in the sink or your mam’ll be mad. Good night.”
“You’re funny business…” Josto grumbles petulantly out of earshot.
~ ~ ~
Rabbi climbs the stairs slowly, minding his injuries. He takes a shower with great difficulty, brushes his teeth, takes a pain pill, and gets in bed in his underwear. He can’t get comfortable because he usually sleeps on his side with the wounded arm, so has to lay on the other side. As he’s nearly falling to sleep, his door creaks open. It’s Josto, carrying the now nearly empty bottle of alcohol, having drunk most of it. He sits on Rabbi’s bunk.
“Hey.”
“What?”
“M’sorry I called you queer. I mean, you are, but I shouldn’t’ve said it like that.”
“Josto *exasperated sigh* this isn’t the apology you think it is.”
“Well, Fadda’s don’t apologize. I’m just… saying sorry.” Rabbi doesn’t have the energy to argue that nonsense.
“Grand, but couldn’t you do it tomorrow?”
“Hey, I owe ya one, from last time.” He points a finger gun and quirks his eyebrow “You’re getting that hand job, kid!”
“Why are you so obsessed with wanking me?”
“Im not obsessed, it’s just fun! Good, clean, all American fun!” Rabbi laughs
“I wouldn’t call it clean - it makes a bit of a mess.”
“Hm, not if you lick it up after.” This idea makes Rabbi gulp.
“Forget it, we shouldn’t even be…”
Josto clumsily gropes at the front of his underwear, trying to find the fly.
“Stop! I said it’s a bad idea.” He throws his good arm over his eyes in frustration and groans “God, why does this always happen?”
“What are you talking about ‘always’? It only happened one time!”
“No, I mean ALL this. I came to you for help that should have taken a minute and now you’re drunk and pawing at me. It’s just constant bullshittery around here! Why does everything have to be an ordeal; why can’t anything be easy?”
“Hey, I gave you ezzactly what you asked for and then some, you ungrateful mick!”
“See? This is what I’m talking about. You can’t just be nice; no one can ever just be nice without a huge heaping side of insults and demeaning.”
“I’m plenty nice…” Josto drunkenly flops down practically on top of him, crowding the tiny bed. “You’re just cranky cuz you got shot. And fell out of a car.” He lays his head on Rabbi’s pillow and makes himself at home. Rabbi wants to scream in exasperation, but holds it in.
“I’m not one to wallow in self pity, but… I’m so tired.” He laments mostly to himself - his unwanted bedmate is already falling asleep.
Even though the position is uncomfortable, the human contact feels incredible. He can feel Josto’s breath on the back of his neck and it makes him shiver. Josto’s hand settles on his stomach and that feels good, too. Begrudgingly, he relaxes into the feel of another body against his. Josto starts to snore and Rabbi just sighs because as annoying as it is, being held for once is worth it.
~ ~
Rabbi wakes up a few hours later with pain in his arm. His back abrasion is burning again, too. He reaches for the painkillers on his bedside table, very slowly so as not to wake Josto, who is spooned against him. He needs something to wash it down with and uses the last sip of gin, which makes him cringe, but does the job. Soon he starts to feel loose and floaty. Involuntarily, he wiggles his back against the chest behind him, trying to get friction to ease the itching. That’s when he feels the erection pressed against his butt. It makes his heart rate speed up and his own dick begins to swell. He thinks, ruefully, that he shouldn’t have protested so hard earlier because he’s going to look like a hypocrite now…
He rocks back against the warm, firm body, feeling more turned on than he’d care to admit. Josto, now awake but with his eyes closed, smiles against his neck. The hand on Rabbi’s stomach starts rubbing slow, lazy circles, lower and lower, pausing just above the waistband of his shorts awaiting permission. He hums his approval and Josto’s fingers card through his pubic hair and over his cock, teasing for a second, then grips it in his fist. Their breathing gets heavy as he pumps and squeezes. After a minute of jerking off, Josto starts to hump against him. Rabbi tenses up -
“Stop, that hurts my back.”
“Well, give me a hand here.”
“I can’t, that’s my bad arm.”
“Turn over”
“There’s no room, I’ll fall off…”
“Here, change it up…” Josto moves out from behind him and stands up. He strips off his pajamas then pulls Rabbi’s underwear down, too. He climbs over Rabbi, who winces at being jostled around and straddles his thighs. He lines up their cocks together, spits in his hand and clasps it around both. They both gaze glassy eyed at the wanton sight between them: two wet pink heads peaking out from clutched fingers.
“Look, our dicks are almost the same size” Josto muses. “Mine’s a little bigger, though.” It’s not, but Rabbi grins, because of course that’s what Josto cares about - the biggest dick. He places his hand on top of his definitely-not-friend’s and they stroke together. It feels amazing and right - Rabbi refuses to think about what that means, tries to just focus on the sensations.
Soon Josto requests “say something sexy.”
“Like what?”
“I dunno, you’ll think of something.” He thinks for a second…
“I can feel your pulse.”
“That’s not very sexy.”
“It is to me…The blood flowing thru your veins, filling your cock… I can feel your heartbeat through your hard-on. Our hearts are beating together, while we’re beating off together…”
“Fuck, that is sexy” he whines and starts pumping harder, bouncing slightly on top of Rabbi’s thighs. The weight is getting to be too much.
“Too heavy” he pants and pushes at Josto’s hip. Josto lifts onto his knees and holds onto the bars of the bunk bed above to keep his balance, but it’s not as much contact as he craves.
He looks down at the young man laying under him and takes him in: Rabbi’s wiry, not big and muscular like the sort of man he always imagined he’d… well, not that he let himself think about such things, but if he were to be with a man, then he would want someone broad and manly to overpower him… this person is narrow and thin and barely has any chest hair - just a smattering around his nipples and a streak leading down his abdomen to his pubic hair - unlike Josto, who has a layer of dark hair all over. He’s pale, the sweat on his body is glistening in the darkness, giving him an unearthly sheen. And his face is pretty like a girl, but angular, still distinctly masculine… yet pretty. Pretty enough to fuck…
That gives him an idea: he wriggles between Rabbi’s knees, grabs his thighs and pushes them up and out. He lays between his spread legs, erections side by side, positioned like they’re fucking. Without needing instruction, their bodies move together like they’re fucking. It’s almost like they are fucking. Precum slicks up their stomachs as they thrust.
Josto buries his face in the crook of Rabbi’s neck, which is as far as his shorter torso can reach.
Rabbi wraps his legs around Josto’s, hooking his ankle behind his knee for stability. With his uninjured arm he grips his ass, caresses and massages while they rut against each other. It feels so good he starts to lose himself, lose track of time and space. Soon he forgets where they are, who they are, just experiences the physical; relishing the feeling of skin on skin. He’s pressing up as hard as Josto’s pressing down. It hurts his injuries, but the pain and pleasure mixed together is intense and he doesn’t want it to end.
“Harder, harder, harder” he chants, not even embarrassed at how needy he must sound. He just rides it out as long as he can.
Of course, as is everything with a Fadda, the moment of ecstasy is short lived:
“If you put your finger in my ass I’ll cum really hard” Josto blurts out.
“I don’t want you to cum yet. Keep going, keep going…” Rabbi whines. Josto grins like the Cheshire Cat.
“And you said this was a bad idea! See, this is why you should always listen to me.”
“Oh, it’s a horrible idea, we’re definitely going to regret this. But now that we’ve started, don’t stop.”
“I’m gonna cum soon…”
“Hold it.”
“Can’t ‘hold it,’ it’s not piss…”
“You can’t hold your piss, neither” Rabbi snorts.
“Shut up.”
Josto snakes his hand between them again. He shivers and climaxes, then collapses on top of Rabbi. Rabbi cants his hips and cums against his stomach a minute later. For a while they lay panting in the dark, relishing the afterglow.
Josto rolls onto his side, barely able to fit on the tiny bed. He swipes at the sticky goo on his abdomen, then holds it up to Rabbi’s mouth.
“Lick it.” He obeys. It’s bitter, but he’s used to it. He sucks the fingers into his mouth. “That’s so fuckin’ hot.” That crude compliment shouldn’t make Rabbi’s chest feel as full as it does. Maybe because he feels so unloveable most of the time…
They settle back into the position they started out in - Rabbi on his side, spooned haphazardly by his counterpart. After that they lay in companionable silence.
~
It’s quiet and dark and they’re both logy and relaxed, and yes, still a little intoxicated. Josto might not even remember it all in the morning. Hopefully. The thing is, Rabbi knows Josto is just playing with him, like a kid who finds an old toy that he outgrew years ago but doesn’t want to give up. A temporary amusement. However, he’s still human, and therefore subject to that awful, desperate human desire to be known; even if it means being vulnerable to someone who will never truly love you. This may be the closest he gets to the real thing - a facsimile of intimacy - and he can’t let the opportunity pass.
Just as they’re drifting back to sleep, Rabbi whispers:
“Josto? Can I tell you something?”
“Hmm?”
“It’s fucked up.”
“I can keep a secret. Promise.” He takes a deep breath, though his voice is barely audible when he speaks.
“I’ve been fucked dozens of times, maybe hundreds…but I’ve never kissed anyone.”
Josto brushes his fingers through Rabbi’s hair, but doesn’t say anything.
“Do ya think I’m broken?” Josto thinks for a moment.
“Yeah. But who isn’t?”
“Thanks” he feels a bit choked up.
Josto kisses his shoulder. “Fag” he mutters, but there’s no venom to it.
“You, too”
They fall asleep wrapped up together.
~ ~
They wake up late the next morning, very hung over. Josto rolls over and falls off the bed with a thunk and just lies there trying not to puke. Rabbi gets up very gingerly. He looks back at the bed and sees dried blood stains where he was laying - the scabs on his back must have rubbed open during last night’s, er, activities. He takes the ointment off the bedside table and walks around to where Josto is sprawled on the floor. He kicks him lightly to get his attention and holds the tube out. Josto takes it, gets up slowly, and without a word gently massages it into Rabbi’s back. This time, it is a tender moment.
When he’s done, he says
“Think you can hold down breakfast?”
“Mmhm.”
They dress and shamble out the door. Just as they reach the top of the stairs, they hear Mrs. Fadda yelling from the kitchen:
“WHO LEFT DISHES IN THE SINK?!”
They look at each other with wide eyes, burst out laughing, then turn around and run back to their respective rooms to hide.