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"Holy fuck, Dylan." He involuntarily takes a step back when the details click in his brain. The man sitting in front of him jerks up at the sudden noise, the injured arm curling a little into his stomach in a protective manner. The movement however makes it all the more visible to Jacob.
He inwardly curses Kaitlyn for not warning him about what happened to Dylan when she directed him here.
When the sun finally rose, he and Emma set off to find the rest of the counselors. They were all waiting by Chris’s cabin, some of them looking worse than the others, but still somehow holding up. Abi was sitting on the stairs, relentlessly scribbling in her notebook, making frustrated sounds when her hand jerked in the wrong direction from exhaustion. Nick was motionlessly laying on the step below her and watching the quickly brightening sky. Some lady he has never seen was nervously pacing near the trees, while Ryan tried to talk to her. Kaitlyn stood over a shivering guy, rubbing his blanket-covered back.
She was the one who noticed them, quickly whispering something to the man before making her way over. She took one look at the blood dripping from Emma and immediately turned her over to Abi, so she could help her get cleaned. She took him closer to the group, searching through one of the backpacks for a hoodie so he could finally cover himself. In the meantime, Jacob once again did a quick count of the people present in the camp, worry surfacing as he realized they are short of one person. He opened his mouth to ask, but Kaitlyn beat him to it, pointing him towards a small path with a clear warning in her gaze.
And now, he stands here and can't drag his eyes away from the dirty bandages, bloody clothes, and the uneven stump that's making his own hand itch. The empty space where the hand should be looks terrifying. It dawns on him with pure horror that this man has lost a limb tonight; just because Jacob was being childish about some summer fling and wanted to have one more chance at it.
"Ah yes," Dylan scoffs. "Come take a look, maybe you will feel better about however shit your night had gone."
Jacob's attention snaps up to his face. He takes in the closed-off expression and the slight tremble in his shoulders. "Hey, that's not really fair," he begins softly and takes a cautious step to get closer. "We've all been through hell tonight. Some worse than the others," he jerks his chin at the hand, or lack of thereof, "but still. Don't be an asshole when we are trying to help."
"That's what you are trying to do? Help?" Dylan huffs out and looks away from him, but when a few minutes pass and Jacob doesn't take the bait, he seems to deflate, sighing deeply and slumping down with elbows on his knees. "I can't believe I'm saying this," he mumbles under his breath, before raising his head to look at Jacob. His eyes are a little clearer, at least. "But you are right, being an asshole won't solve anything."
Jacob sends him a smile and closes the distance between them, taking a sit on the fallen log beside him. "What is it that they say? Even the broken clock is right twice a day."
Dylan lets out a startled chuckle, and some of the tension disappears. "Don't flatter yourself."
Jacob lets the almost comfortable silence fall between them. If the quiet company is what Dylan needs right now to stop spiraling into his thoughts, then Jake will be more than happy to provide it. He isn't as obtuse as people like to believe.
It’s only when Dylan starts to anxiously pick at the edge of bandages that he blurts out the first thing that comes to his mind. "I'm really fucking sorry, man. It seems like you got off the worst out of all of us."
"It's fine," Dylan starts, but it falls flat. "Well, it's not really. But— It could have been worse, I guess."
"That's right. It might sound terrible, but I'm glad it's just your hand. You are smart, you can and will get through it,” he says. After a moment of consideration, he adds, “Uh, after we get out of here, and you're all healed and shit, I could hook you up with some good rehab center. If you want, that is.”
Dylan raises an eyebrow, a small smile quirking up his lips. "Who would have thought you are so considerate?"
Jacob scoffs and punches his shoulder lightly. “I was actually thinking about getting a job there. Who knows, maybe bringing in some clients will give me a head start at getting hired.”
“Oh, I see how it is,” Dylan nods dramatically, humor evident in his voice, and something in Jacob’s chest loosens its painful grip. “I’m nothing more than an easy job offer, huh.”
“Well, you could always use your charming personality to put in a good word for me,” Jacob grins, playing along.
“My what now?” Dylan snorts. “Have you met me? I’m an awkward mess of inappropriate jokes, I would sooner get you fired, rather than hired.”
“What?” Jake frowns. “You’re kidding, right?” At Dylan’s unimpressed expression, he continues, “Buddy, you are easily the most popular counselor. Kaitlyn was ribbing me earlier about it, but we all are well aware of just how many girls and boys had a crush on you.”
Dylan just stares at him for a moment, but then he shakes his head quickly. “Nope. Nuh-uh. You are lying.”
“Oh, please,” he rolls his eyes. “I wish I was. You should have seen the sheer silence that overtook them each time an announcement or lunch radio time came in. The kids literally snapped at anyone who dared to interrupt. I’ve heard some of them discuss whether it’s a good idea to leave you some love letters as a goodbye. One boy was chatting Chris up about becoming a counselor in two years while asking whether he knows if you would come back or not.”
Dylan opens his mouth and closes it a few times, before making a considering noise in his throat. “If you are making this up to make me feel better, it’s not working.”
“Be in denial, if that’s what you want,” Jake shrugs, getting whacked in the back of his head for it. Instead of reacting, he smirks and changes the subject slightly, "And while on the subject of crushing; how is going the thing with the lover boy?"
"The who?"
"Oh, you know," Jacob leans back. "’The sailing instructor with a sexy, brooding loner thing,’ as I heard."
"You've been spending too much time with Kaitlyn," Dylan chuckles, the sound having a bitter undertone that has Jacob wincing a little. Maybe he shouldn't have asked. "There is no 'thing with the lover boy.’"
"Really?" He hums. "Back at the firepit you two have seemed to be hitting it off really well," he bumps Dylan's shoulder slightly.
"Yeah, well," Dylan sighs. "Ryan doesn't seem to go for quirky, sarcastic, witty men. He is more of a confident, heroic woman type. With an eye patch. Though she seems to have dropped it, last I saw her.”
“She the lady back at Chris’s cabin?”
“Yep,” he confirms, popping the ‘p.’
“She seemed a bit distraught.”
“Worried about Max, I presume.”
“The who now?”
“Her boyfriend,” Dylan explains with a sigh.
Jake frowns, thinking the new information over for a few moments. “So, you are telling me that atop of getting mauled by werewolves, running from some psycho hunters, and the general trying to stay alive, you guys have also been dealing with some sort of love triangle teenage dramas all night long?”
That startles a laugh out of Dylan, his shoulders shaking from the force of it. “Pretty much,” he whispered, leaning against Jacob.
Jake lets him, shifting slightly to accommodate the additional weight. His breathing evens out quickly, the adrenaline wearing off, and exhaustion finally creeping in once he relaxed enough in the safe company. Jacob would love to let him stay like this and carry him back to the campsite once the help arrives, but he really would rather if Dylan stayed awake. Fuck knows what in his body is messed up right now.
“Hey, sleeping beauty,” he pokes his side gently. “You can rest all you want, but you gotta stay awake, alright?”
Dylan only mumbles something incoherently against his shoulder, his head settling further into Jake’s neck. Shit, that shouldn’t be so adorable.
Jake clears his throat, deciding to change the tactic and keep him talking. "Know what you're gonna do after this?"
Dylan grunts, yawning and blinking sleepily. "Live, hopefully," he replies drily. "I really hope I didn't get any sort of infection in this," he waves his stump in the air, wincing slightly. "Besides the werewolf one, but that would be gone by now either way, I guess."
Jake hums in thought for a moment, before carefully touching Dylan's elbow to bring the wrist closer to him. If Dylan really wanted to, he could very easily take it back. As it is, he lets him maneuver it, only accompanied by a surprised, "Hey, what are you even—"
Instead of responding, he gently turns it over on both sides, searching for any signs of late-stage inflammation. Thankfully, there aren’t any. He looks over the bandages, delicately prodding them to see if there is any kind of discharge seeping through them. Lastly, he leans over to check if it smells. Just blood and dirt, nothing overly wrong. “You should be good,” he affirms, patting the forearm and letting it fall between them.
“How do you know?” Dylan asks. No skepticism in his tone, just curiosity.
Jake shrugs faintly, careful not to jostle Dylan too much. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I wanted to work in the rehab. Sport has been a part of my life ever since I can remember. Sports-related injuries just as well. Twisted ankles, broken fingers, sprained wrists, busted knees. It’s always shit to see someone struggle to keep up with their passion after a setback like that. Had my own share of those. Figured I might as well try to help people like that.”
Dylan nods into his neck, keeping quiet for so long that Jake briefly wonders if he is dozing off again. Before he can check on him, though, Dylan decides to speak up quietly.
"Your question. I— I don't really know. Might need to take a bit of me time to figure all this shit out,” he rasps out. He coughs a little to clear his voice and hisses when the movement makes the stump brush against his clothes. "Originally, I was planning to go into quantum physics," he smiles shyly when Jacob whistles, impressed. "But I'm not so sure anymore. I got to thinking, and man, I really am gonna need some nice prosthetic. Fuck knows I don’t have money for the best ones, so I might as well get into engineering and work with that, or something. I like tech either way. I’m good with it. Maybe it's a sign, some good out of this hell."
“That’s actually a good idea,” Jacob agrees. “A perfect job with your intelligence, and something to give you motivation, hope that you will definitely get back to normal. I’ve seen you messing around with some of the equipment; I’m sure you will do millions once you develop some sci-fi prosthetic.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Dylan huffs, the warm breath on Jake’s collarbone giving him goosebumps.
“We will see,” he hums, ignoring the sensation.
They are quiet for a few minutes before Dylan croaks out suddenly, “I’m so tired, Jake.”
Jacob sigh. “I know.”
“I’m sorry for getting all mushy on you, both physically and verbally.”
“I never minded mushy,” he reassures, wrapping his hand around his waist in some imitation of a hug. But Dylan only makes a contented sound, and Jake releases the breath he didn’t know he was holding. They settle back into this soft silence, and Jacob has to hold in a groan when he feels Dylan slump further into him, indicating that he is falling asleep again. “Look, if it keeps you awake, we can talk about whatever you want. It’s your chance to get some dirt on me or whatever. I will hear out and reply to anything but come on, don’t sleep.”
There’s a beat, and then, “Really? I can talk about whatever I want?” He sounds a bit more awake at that, so Jake nods, knowing the man can feel it. “Great,” he drowsily pulls back a bit but doesn’t dislodge the hand Jacob still has on his side. "Look, no offense to you or anything—"
"What a great start," Jake sighs.
"—but Emma can be a total bitch." He continues without acknowledging it. Jake makes a spluttering noise and is about to defend his now ex-girlfriend, but Dylan barrels on. "I mean, honestly. I'm not saying she is the worst person ever or that you were completely in the right because you weren’t.”
“Thanks,” he mutters.
“You’re quite welcome,” he chirps, and Jake can’t help the snort he lets out. “But watching you two from the sidelines for the last couple of days, or even the entire summer— it’s not fair, what she’s been doing. It seemed like she really played this, this push and pull bullshit. You both had your own expectations, and she shouldn’t have let this go on, knowing damn well what you wanted, needed, since the beginning. That thing when she kissed Nick by the firepit? So fucked up, man.” He concludes. “Watching you two has been bothering me for a while.” And isn’t that an interesting piece of information. “And that being said, you aren’t all that innocent either. Should’ve stopped this when you knew she would never be what you wanted her to be. Though that’s probably a bit hypocritical, coming from me,” he mutters the last sentence bitterly.
He is cute when he rambles, Jake thinks and immediately discards the thought in mild panic. Not the time.
Instead, he considers him for a moment, when an idea pops into his mind. "Okay," he nods.
"Listen, I know you probably still— what." Dylan blinks at him blankly.
"Okay," he repeats with a smirk. "You might be kinda right. But now it's my turn."
"Your turn at what?"
"Well,” he drawls, “if Emma is a bitch, then Ryan is an asshole."
"Now hold on—"
"Nope," Jake raises his hand to cover Dylan's mouth with a grin to quiet him. "You had your go at it, now hear me out."
Dylan squints at him, and Jake swiftly brings his palm down, because Dylan has this glint in his eyes, and he is either going to lick or bite, and Jacob would rather live with neither. Sure enough, when he pulls back, Dylan's lips are slightly parted, his tongue peeking out slightly. When he realizes his mouth is free again, he fully sticks his tongue out in a playful manner. Jake can't help but watch the motion. His eyes snap back up when that same mouth transforms into a smug grin.
He clears his throat, beginning, “Your fumbling through the crush on him was cute to watch.” He laughs when Dylan splutters in reaction. “But I’ve never thought there would be anything serious between you two,” he sends his companion a sympathetic look. “Sure, both of you are definitely handsome and some one-night stand or friends with benefits would probably work great. But you two are literally the opposites of each other. And fuck whoever said opposites attract, it’s utter bullshit. You are clearly smart, competent, and have a nice sense of humor. Qualities the lover boy seems to lack; no offense to him, he is great at other things. Just, I don’t think he would be very compatible with you,” Jake finishes, biting his lip.
I don’t think he would treat you properly.
“You may have a point,” Dylan admits with resignation. “But I’ve seen you squabble like a couple of children a few times tonight alone. Are you sure it’s not just your antagonistic relationship speaking up?”
“Smartass,” Jake pinches his hip in retaliation, making him yelp.
“Always,” he laughs.
Jacob's eyes involuntarily wander back down to Dylan's injury. Even though the man seems to have made peace with it, Jake can't help the guilt coiling deep in his chest. "Shit, uh, you know," he starts, but he can't bring himself to go on. He swallows hard instead, looking away.
"Hm?" Dylan hums in question. He goes on when Jacob doesn’t elaborate, "Oh come on, don't leave me hanging like that."
He doesn't push more, though, for which Jake is grateful. He has said it once already, it should be easier the second time around, shouldn’t it? Besides, chances are that Kaitlyn already told him.
"Fuck, I'm so very sorry," he rushes out before he can change his mind, turning to look back at Dylan. "I've never regretted anything more in my life than yesterday, and—"
He cuts himself off when he notices that Dylan's brows furrow in confusion. "What... Are you talking about?" He tilts his head to the side, and Jacob almost chokes on the air. "You have nothing to apologize for."
Of course, he doesn't know. Kaitlyn isn’t the kind of person to gossip or rattle on others. She isn’t Emma, who would have gladly taken the opportunity. He should have kept his mouth shut, now another person is going to hate him for his stupid hope to fix things if he got more time.
But. If anyone deserves to know the truth, it's gotta be Dylan. Dylan, one of the most sociable people that came to the camp, and who has been sitting here all alone until Jacob came by. Dylan, who possibly lost a chance with his crush—no matter Jake’s thoughts on the matter—because of the woman who stumbled on them tonight. Dylan, who is the only one to come out of this shitshow with a permanent handicap.
So, he grits his teeth and pushes on. "I have everything to apologize for. It's— Fuck, we wouldn't be here if I wasn't such a desperate idiot. I messed with the car, and—" he takes in a shaky breath, it really isn't a time to break down. He doesn't have the right to break down. "And it's all my fault we had to go through this. All of us would have been safely back at our homes, and maybe I would have had to spend a week drowning in beer and ice cream, but hell if I wouldn't choose a month, or years, of that now. When I know the result of my piss-poor decision."
"Jacob—"
"And I really thought that maybe Kaitlyn would have told you by now," he continues desperately. "She knew, she was there when I took—"
"Jake!" Dylan interrupts more firmly this time, his voice near shouting.
It makes Jacob startle out of his mind. He jerks back, nearly falling off the log. Dylan reacts swiftly, catching his arm with his good hand, and pulling him back into a secure seat. The lack of distance between them now feels wrong, so he goes to move away, but Dylan's grip tightens. He is left staring at the man with his mouth half open, whether in an attempt for another apology or question about what now, he doesn't even know.
Dylan takes a deep breath in and lets it out slowly before he starts speaking. "It's not your fault," he grimaces at his own words, and when Jake starts protesting, he tugs at him again until he shuts up. "Okay, it might be your fault a little bit. But you couldn’t have known we would land in a very cliche fucked up version of some horror drama. People do dumb shit when they are in love, and I doubt you are the first or last to try and prolong your time to fix the relationship.” His grip on Jacob loosens, and instead, his hand slips down his forearm to the wrist, which he squeezes briefly in reassurance. “You are a very sweet man, Jake. You can act really dumb and silly at times, but don’t we all? Emma’s waste if she can’t tell appreciate your qualities.”
Jacob sniffs, his jaw tightening to stop the emotions from overflowing. He pulls Dylan closer and the man goes willingly. Back to their previous embrace, but this time tighter. He doesn’t comment when Jake begins rubbing the sleeve of his hoodie over his eyes every now and then or takes a shaky breath in.
How come this man has given him the closure he so desperately needed when the woman he fell in love with only made him feel more miserable?
They stay like that, Jake slowly getting himself under control, while Dylan waits patiently. At least he is more awake now, his head resting peacefully on Jacob’s shoulder but no longer on the verge of dozing off.
Or at least, until someone clears their throat directly behind them, and they both flinch so hard they almost fall to the ground, Jake subconsciously twisting himself to shield Dylan. But when they whirl around to look at the intruder, they only see Kaitlyn staring at them deeply unimpressed, hands propped up on her hips.
“Hate to barge in on this cozy little getaway you’ve got going on, but the help arrived,” she drawls.
“Jesus,” Jake exclaims, pulling himself up. “Warn a guy after a night like that.”
“Oh, please,” she scoffs, coming closer. “What could’ve happened? No weapons to defend yourselves against little old me, and your worst demise being, what, faceplanting into the dirt while in panic?”
“Maybe a heart attack, how about that,” Dylan snarks, accepting Jacob’s help to get up to his feet.
“Oh, poor you,” she coos. “Your heart can't seem to catch a break, can it?" Her eyes dart to Jake and back to her friend.
Dylan glares at her, but only gets raised eyebrows in response. He narrows his eyes and opens his mouth to reply, but the only thing that gets out is a rough, “Fuck,” when he tries to take a step without Jake’s help, his knees trembling and then giving out under his weight.
Jacob catches him easily, holding his waist and arm firmly to keep him upright. “What’s wrong?”
“Blood loss, shock, exhaustion,” Dylan rattles off, the tiredness coming back all at once. “Take your pick.”
“Okay, shit, right. Let’s get you to that ambulance.” He takes more of Dylan’s weight, guiding him gently back to the campsite. Kaitlyn observes them sharply but thankfully doesn’t comment.
“Alright, I can take him off you now,” She declares when they are out of the tree line, gesturing for Jacob to let her support Dylan instead.
“Wh— No, I uh. Why? I can—” Jake stutters out in response, but one look from her has him nodding in agreement. “Yeah, great idea, sorry.” He squeezes Dylan’s hip briefly before letting go, watching as Kaitlyn pulls his arm up on her shoulders to support him.
When he still stands there, hesitantly looking between them and the police cars further up the path, Kaitlyn nudges Dylan pointedly to do something. Dylan steps on her foot in response, glaring at her, but still disentangles himself and stumbles back to Jake.
“Woah there,” Jacob blurts out, immediately reaching out to steady him.
Dylan thumps his forehead on his chest for a moment, before looking back up. “Don’t you fucking dare disappear on me after this. I will sic Kaitlyn on you, and you do not want that.”
“Wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy,” he replies seriously, before breaking out in a soft smile. “I’ll text you about that rehab.”
“Great,” Dylan grumbles, fisting the collar of Jake’s hoodie and pulling him down roughly. He presses a quick kiss to his cheek and then pushes himself off back to his friend.
“Uh,” Jacob responds intelligently, still leaning down.
“Good job, Dylan! You broke him instead,” Kaitlyn rolls her eyes, snapping her fingers in front of Jacob. His attention finally turns to her. “Run along, big boy. They want each of us to make a statement.”
“Right, yes.” He seems to pull himself together and takes off with one last glance at Dylan.
“Really?” Kaitlyn asks with a flat look once Jacob is out of the earshot.
“What?” He huffs defensively.
“First you fall for a closed-off nerd, now it’s a dumb himbo. When will you learn?”
“No one,” he starts pointedly, as they slowly follow in the same direction as Jake, “not a single person asked for your opinion.”
“Sweetheart, I already know I will be hearing your whining about him for months at the very least. I will say whatever I want.”
Dylan groans, eyes stuck on Jake’s ass as he gets closer to the lodge. “You couldn’t have at least given him some pants? I will blame this solely on the fact you let him come to me half naked.”
Kaitlyn cackles.
Unknown number: kait forcibly put ur number in my phone b4 we got separated on the way back
Unknown number: so yea uh
Unknown number: lemme know when youre free for rehab?
You: youre lucky im smart enough to figure out who is texting from the context
You: who the hell doesnt even introduce themselves in the new phone conv??
Speedos Himbo: sry
Speedos Himbo: thought she let you know
You: got hospital appointment on tuesday, come pick me up and we will talk
Speedos Himbo: ok :D
“I just might make you my chauffeur for the foreseeable future,” Dylan jokes in lieu of a greeting, patting Jacob’s shoulder and going past him to the car. “Can’t really drive without a hand and all.”
“’Hey, Jacob, it’s so nice to see you again. I missed you so much, how are you holding up?’ I’m absolutely great, Dylan, missed your dumb quips and flat ass,” he says mockingly, making Dylan snort.
“I do not have a flat ass, thank you very much,” he throws over his shoulder. Jake grabs the collar of Dylan’s shirt to pull him back before he gets too far. He yelps as he stumbles backward, but lets Jacob take the duffel bag from him, before proceeding. “Thanks,” he smiles.
“Of course,” he grins back, hoisting the bag up on his shoulder. “I thought Kaitlyn was gonna drive you around for now?” He asks, continuing the subject.
“She lives just far enough for it to be inconvenient,” Dylan sighs. “The public transport is an option, but like, I’m still not used to people staring at me so much. And I figured I might guilt-trip you into it for the job I’m about to get you,” he winks.
“Thought your awkwardness was supposed to get rid of all my chances to ever work in there,” he raises an eyebrow.
“I would never,” he gasps dramatically. “I will do everything in my power to help my favorite Hackett counselor. Don’t tell Kaitlyn, though,” he adds in an exaggerated whisper.
“Your secret is safe with me,” he chuckles, taking the car keys out of his pocket once the car comes into the view. It beeps when he presses the key to unlock it, and Dylan hums, making a beeline for the passenger seat. Jake follows, throwing the bag into the back on his way. “I wouldn’t mind being a personal chauffeur for a while,” he says as he gets in and starts the car, “I’m taking a break from the responsibilities after this whole shitshow of a summer; should be free to drive you whenever you need for a while.”
“Oh,” Dylan blinks, his good hand freezing where he was fighting with a seatbelt. Jake refrains from reaching out to help. “I didn’t— that’s. Very kind. Thank you. I will pay you back for the gas at the end of the month, or something.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he grunts as he pulls out of the parking spot, turning to the main road. He clears his throat before bringing out the other subject he wanted to talk about. “Uh, I was— I thought that maybe, um, I could stop by your place to help?” He rushes out, stubbornly keeping his eyes on the road. “I mean, I’m sure you’ve got the stuff figured out by now, Kaitlyn wouldn’t have left you alone if you didn’t, but uh, I figured I could help with the chores? If you want? Of course, you don—”
“I’d love that,” Dylan laughs, successfully silencing Jacob. He leans forward to mess with the radio, and Jake chances a look at his bright grin when the man is preoccupied with the music. “Thank you.”
“Yeah,” he breathes out in relief, relaxing his grip on the steering wheel.
“Bro,” Dylan exclaims when the first few notes of a song he found on Jake’s playlists start playing. “Rare Americans? What the hell.”
“…is that bad?”
“The opposite,” he hummed happily and spent the rest of the ride chatting Jacob’s ear off about the band.
“I saw a brooding, handsome, mysterious man, and I thought we would have this romance out of the movies. I don’t know why I got that into my head. Maybe it was the crippling loneliness and general anxiety over being too awkward getting to me.”
“I think that happens to just about everyone.”
“Yeah,” Dylan hums absentmindedly, his fingers twitching to touch the stump. A nervous habit he picked up recently. “And it almost never works for anyone. Should’ve really known better than to get hurt over it. He clearly wasn’t as interested in me as I was in him.”
Jacob reaches out to wrap his arm around his shoulders and steers him to the exit of the park they are in, thinking about where the closest ice cream stand is. Time for distractions.
“I really just wanted for someone to finally care and stay. Everyone always mocks me for being a dumb jock or whatever. I thought,” he bites his lip, willing away the trembling in his voice. “I thought someone finally loved me for who I am? It wasn’t about the sex. I just wanted to cling to that feeling, so— Shit, sorry for dumping all this information on you, I know this isn’t—”
“Jake, it’s alright. I’m happy to listen to whatever you want to say, and then either offer snarky commentary or distract you.”
“Thank you,” Jacob chuckles wetly.
Dylan waves to the kind receptionist lady as he jogs to the exit of the building. Today’s session got prolonged for about half an hour. This means his friend is probably bored well out of his mind, and bored Jake always means some kind of trouble.
He winces when he opens the door, the wave of almost unbearable heat hitting him straight in his face, and he instantly misses the AC. His discomfort dissolves slightly when he spots Jacob by his car, leaning against it and frowning down at his phone. A smile unwillingly pulls at Dylan’s lips before he even notices. He is about to call out to him, when the man looks up and brightens up, turning to face him with a smirk.
Dylan almost trips on his own feet when his brain registers what Jake is wearing. The snapback is sitting backward on his head, as per usual, but the rest— The black crop top with red accents, clearly too tight on him, hugging his biceps nicely and showing off the muscles on his stomach. Dylan can feel his brain slowly evaporating, especially when he notes the patch of hair leading down the very short shorts that show off his thighs. A low sound rips itself from the base of his throat before he can stop it.
“Fuuck,” he groans, extending the vowel.
“See something you like, buddy? The cocky tone makes his eyes snap back up to his face, and really, he can’t even blame him for looking so smug. He knows damn well what he looks like.
“Jake?” He knows his voice comes out high-pitched, but fuck if he cares right now. He licks his lips, still eyeing the outfit, the man wearing it.
“Yes, Dylan?” He chuckles in response.
“Are you—” he stops to clear his throat and forcibly drags his eyes up to look Jacob in the eye. “Are you actively trying to get me to jump you? Because holy mother of fuck, this— I will have you know that you are way too s— hot,” he can feel the heat start spreading on his cheeks from embarrassment, but he can’t stop the words,” and I’m saying it in a very not platonic-straight way. This should be illegal, man.”
“You are cute when you ramble,” Jake hums softly, this dumb toothy grin on his face. His eyes are so kind, so happy. Dylan has seen him with that expression multiple times. Always directed at Emma.
He makes a startled noise at the back of his throat. “Jake.”
“Dylan,” he replies back with amusement and leans on the car again.
Dylan cannot take it. He groans, covering his face with one hand, and whines, “Aren’t you supposed to be straight?”
“…what?” He asks after a moment of silence. Dylan lets his hand fall down at the confusion lacing his voice. “Who told you that?”
“No one?” Great, now they are both confused. “You’ve never said anything about the guys, you’ve always— Emma? I vaguely remember you gushing about a blonde character or something a few weeks back, but.”
Jake raises his eyebrows at him. It has Dylan squirming a little. Okay, maybe he has made some assumptions, but come on.
“If you were listening more carefully, you would have known that Cloud is a man.”
“In my defense, it’s a very weird name and I was severely distracted,” he points out desperately.
“By what?”
“You stopped mid-changing your clothes, shirtless, to gush about Cloud,” Dylan hisses in frustration.
“Uh,” Jake falters. “What does that have to do with it?”
“Shirtless, Jake!” He stresses. “It has everything to do with it. I mean, have you seen yourself,” he gestures wildly to his very visible and very lovely muscles. And just as quickly covers his mouth when he realizes what he admitted to. He makes to walk around the car to the passenger seat, absolutely done with this conversation, thank you very much.
He is not so lucky. Jake reaches out to grab him by the forearm and keeps him in place. Dylan halfheartedly tries to break free, but the man doesn’t let him. Fine. He watches as Jake’s mouth opens, closes, then opens again.
“Fuck, alright,” Dylan sighs, deflating at once. “I’m attracted to you. Been for a while now, but honestly, someone should be blind to not be. And to make it clear, it’s not just your looks for me. You are kind, you care so much, your taste in music is great, you are silly in a fun way, and it shouldn’t be so adorable when you scream for help when there’s a spider in the vicinity of five meters of you. I could go on for hours, really, but can we please spare me the embarrassment and move on? I promise I won’t be weird about it all because you do not like me this way. Just let me—”
“Dylan. First of all, I am pan." Jake cuts in gently, and Dylan’s mouth clicks shut immediately. "You could’ve asked me. Or anyone.”
“Oh,” Dylan breathes out.
“Yeah, oh.” Jacob snorts. “Second of all, I’ve been trying to figure out whether you could even see me that way for a while. Kaitlyn hung up on me way too many times with insults of various degrees. I thought she was wrong because well, the whole Ryan situation.”
“You’ve been talking to Kaitlyn about this?” Dylan asks and then backtracks. “Hold up, what does Ryan have to do with anything?”
“Ah,” Jacob takes his hand back to scratch at his neck sheepishly. “Well, he is the last person I know that you’ve had a crush on. And I’m nowhere near being like him, I’m a direct opposite to him if we are being honest.”
“So what?”
“So, I thought I wasn’t your type?” He says, but he trails off by the end of the sentence, making it seem more like he is asking Dylan.
“Jake, I don’t have a type,” Dylan says desperately. “You could’ve asked me. Or anyone,” he parrots back at him.
“I asked Kaitlyn!”
They are both quiet for a minute, just staring at each other before Jacob begins to laugh. Dylan groans again, hunching down to a crouch. “Kaitlyn is going to kill us both,” he mutters, but can’t help the smile that spreads on his face.
He watches from the ground as Jake laughs freely for a minute or two, feeling the giddy feeling build up in his chest as well. He finally reaches up with his hand, making a grabby motion for Jacob to pull him up, to which he immediately complies. Dylan uses the momentum to prop himself on his tiptoes, kissing Jake’s cheek just like he did a few months ago before they came back. He steals the hat when Jake just stands there, gaping at him a little, and puts it on.
“Come on, don’t tell me a chaste kiss like that already has you stunned,” he chuckles, bringing his hand down to slip it beneath Jake’s crop and thumb at his ribs softly. “I literally kissed you back at the lodge, how could you think you are not my type, you big idiot?”
Jacob hums in consideration. “Must be the effect you have on me.”
“Oh, I think you’re doing that by yourself just fine,” Dylan quips cheerily.
“Few minutes in, and you’re already so mean to me,” Jake pouts, circling his arms around Dylan’s waist.
“Gosh, how could I? Should we get back to my flat so I can make it up to you?” He smirks cheekily, squeezing the firm muscles underneath his hand before finally trailing it lower to play with the waistband of his shorts.
“Sounds great. More than great, in fact,” Jake replies with a strangled voice. He sobers up quickly, though, sending a slightly panicked look to Dylan. “We are going to talk about this, right? I don’t— I really don’t want a repeat of last time. I want something more than casual, Dylan.”
“Of course, we are going to talk, Jake. Probably before even anything, uh, more happens,” he reassures him softly. “And I think what we want from this relationship might align quite nicely.”
“I’ll hold you to it, then.”
Jacob leans down to kiss Dylan’s temple.