Work Text:
Look, it’s not like Matt’s never overheard Jay jerking off. Accidentally, obviously, that goes without saying. But, like, they’re two adult men who’ve lived together for the majority of their lives. Things happen. All things considered, it’s really not the most scandalous thing that could happen to them, or that has happened to them. There was even that one time Jay had a girl over, and Matt had come home right when – well, that’s sort of besides the point. So what if Matt had gotten rid of all Jay’s masks, he never understood why Jay was bitter about that, they were stupid and childish anyways. (He’d kept his own Halloween mask, obviously. That one was awesome. It was the feathers, really, that had been problematic for Matt. Moving on.) But anyways Jay had been skittish and embarrassed for weeks, refusing to meet Matt’s eyes until he, self-sacrificing saint that he was, came up with the genius idea to embarrass himself by orchestrating Jay walking in on him in bed (on his own, yeah, but that was just because it was less work) so they could go back to even footing. Which had actually made things even more awkward for, like, a day or two, but it had worked in the end. His plans always worked in the end. His plans around Jay, at least, but he still had full faith the Rivoli thing would work out eventually.
Anyways. It’s not like Matt’s never overheard Jay jerking off. But there’s sort of a significant distance between forgetting to knock on a bedroom door and where he’s at now, which is in the bottom bunk at what feels like three am, sweaty from a nightmare about being forcefed burgers and slowly realizing that what he’s hearing above him isn’t Jay also having a bad dream. Seems like Jay’s having a pretty good dream up there, actually. Matt’s even jealous, for a second, before a particularly breathy moan floats down to him from the top bunk and snaps him out of it. He’s trying to decide what to do about the situation – should he leave for a few minutes? What if that wakes Jay up? Is he quick enough to get out of there before that happens? Does he actually even give a shit?
The noises above Matt are still sort of quiet, like they’re muffled into a pillow (fuck), but they’re escalating in a concerning way, and he figures fuck it, he’ll just come up with something if he gets caught sneaking out. Not that he’s sneaking, actually, that makes it sound like he’s doing something weird, and it’s his room too, for fuck’s sake, if anything Jay’s the one who should be embarrassed and –
And then Matt hears a punched out “Fuck, MJ” from above him and any thoughts he might’ve been in the middle of grind to a painful halt. There’s one more sleepy, elongated groan from Jay, and then it sounds like he rolls over and his breath evens out and the room falls back into silence. The damage is done though. Fuck is it ever done. Matt’s wide awake and feels hot all over and shit, has he been half hard this whole time? He has a vague, bizarre hope that his earlier nightmare had crossed some wires and somehow given him a boner he’s only just noticing. It wouldn’t be the first time. In any case, it’s there now and doesn’t seem to be dying down as the minutes crawl by.
Matt weighs his options. The reasonable one is probably to just go back to sleep, he thinks, but the problem is that now he has this kind of sick antsy energy thrumming under his skin, and he knows himself and knows that the more he tries to ignore it the more it’ll grow until he does something truly stupid, like throw a jar of peanuts at someone’s head or fake a suicide or say to hell with it and take care of himself right here, right now, because fuck Jay, why does Jay get some sort of monopoly on busting a nut in a shared bunkbed? What does he think this is, summer camp in grade six? He can hear Jay now, I was asleep! How is this my fault! in that stupid bewildered whine he does sometimes that makes Matt want to tackle him and – well. Do something. The specifics aren’t important, the point is: Who does Jay think he is, really? This would show him. Matt knows he’s following maybe a crazier train of thought than usual, palms himself through his ratty flannel pants to take the edge off. It only kind of works.
It’s unbelievably tempting, is the thing. For one thing, Matt’s bed is warm, and the bathroom is all the way upstairs, and he’s comfortable here, and he’s frankly a lot closer than he’d like to admit, still half-asleep and horny in the way where it would be so easy to just roll over and rut into the mattress like a teenager. That would definitely wake Jay up, though. There’s only so much movement a bunkbed can take before the whole thing is swaying precariously (so maybe they’d lost a few screws when they were putting the thing together, so what, he’s pretty sure it’s still mostly the manufacturer’s fault, these things get built by children, for God’s sake, they should account for a few missing pegs). Matt gets a sudden vision, so clear it’s almost like it’s really happening, of Jay waking up, disoriented like Matt had been a few minutes ago, realizing what’s happening in the bunk below him. Matt can picture his stupid confused face, almost hear the gears turning slow in his friend’s head. Would Jay say something? He probably wouldn’t. He’s kind of a pussy with Matt, in a way that makes him equal parts proud and ashamed he’s beaten a sort of preemptive flinch into Jay around him. Jay would probably just sit up there, maybe not believing what’s happening, waiting for it to be over or for Matt to reveal it’s some elaborate prank. If Matt really wanted to fuck with him, he could wait until he was sure Jay was awake and then moan his name, see how he liked it, the pervert, and – hold on. Matt stops moving his hand, which he realizes he’d been grinding into at kind of a concerning pace anyways, and stops for the first time to actually take a second to backtrack to what had started this whole thing in the first place.
Jay had moaned Matt’s name. Matt’s. In his sleep. Jay had been having a wet dream like a goddamn teenager about Matt. And Matt had sort of registered that distantly, but he’d gotten caught up in his own indignation and then in his half-baked revenge thing and hadn’t actually thought about it, he was tired okay, it was like the middle of the night and this was a lot to process and it – Jay had been having a wet dream about him. Had actually had a full wet dream about him, to completion, from the sounds of it. Matt suddenly wants to know exactly what the dream had been with a desperation bordering on mania. He has half a mind to shake Jay awake right now and get the answer out of him while he’s too tired and half-aware to dodge questions, barely stops himself from kicking the bottom of Jay’s bunk like he’s done countless times when he had an idea in the middle of the night that was just too good to lose.
But this wasn’t a good idea. Probably. Matt knows, because it’s not exactly a foreign idea to him. Well, not this specifically, but – it’s like this, okay. It’s like this. Jay is his best friend in the whole world. He knows it, Jay knows it, everyone knows it. It’s obvious, one of those unconditional truths of the universe. Jay’s also an attractive guy, objectively speaking. Matt has noticed his build, the way he carries himself, the way his hands move on the piano, his stupid fucked up teeth that are somehow one of the more charming things about him. Et cetera. Anyone would, that’s not the point. The point is: Jay’s a catch. Matt knows this, and it’s part of why he gets that sharp, leaden feeling in his gut when Jay gets it in his head to break up the band, or when he would start spending more time with girls, although that hasn’t happened in a while. Matt had assumed he’d just beaten Jay into submission by scaring everyone away, but the recent Fuck, MJ plays in his head in perfect stereo and he kicks it to the back of his mind to think about in a minute. The point is: Matt’s thought about it. About what it would be like for Jay to not need a girl ever again, to not need anyone else ever again. About how he has his hooks so deep in Jay (and vice versa, he’ll admit only to himself and only when he’s feeling particularly dejected) that he always comes crawling back, but what if he never tried to leave again at all? On good days, Matt almost thinks it would be easy. He knows Jay’s buttons and how to push them; how hard can it be to get over stupid inconsequential shit like being straight when that’s up against decades of the world’s most sacred bond? They already play house, they have a joint bank account and everything. Jay is his emergency contact but he doesn’t even need to be because he’s always right there with Matt when shit hits the fan. On good days, Matt’s been about two seconds away from pinning Jay down just to see what would happen, if he’d let him get away with it like he does everything else. The problem is, at some point Matt had started wanting Jay to want it too – like, fuck, man, what else do I have to give you for this to work? On bad days, Matt feels like Jay can sense it on him like a sickness, like a warning sign, like maybe he can tell Matt has this black hole of need in him and that’s what makes Jay lash out and run away in the first place. On bad days, Matt knows that it would be the last straw and he’d maybe never see Jay again, for real.
Matt can feel himself on the edge of a spiral and he still has his stupid dick in his hand, which is never a good position to be in. He’s debating just giving up and going back to sleep after all when Jay mumbles something in his sleep above him, and Fuck, MJ rings through his head again and he puts the phrase crawling back together with Jay in his head and Jesus Christ, he suddenly actually needs to take care of this right now or he might die for real. Explode or something. Disintegrate. Was there a movie about that? He’s pretty sure there was a movie about that.
Shit, he needs to focus. He decides to make the trek upstairs to the bathroom, rushes out of the bedroom as quickly and quietly as he can. On the way, his thoughts start racing in a new direction. Jesus, what he wouldn’t give to know what Jay had been dreaming about. Matt wonders if Jay’s had fantasies in his day to day that bled over into his subconscious, hopes it’s true and then mentally slaps himself for being girly. He reaches the bathroom, doesn’t even bother turning the light on before sticking his hand down his pants. Matt remembers a comment Jay had made once, trying to be mean, something about Matt’s dick sucking lips — would Jay dream about that? Fuck, Matt might dream about that at this point. Maybe he’s thought about Jay on his knees, just once or twice in his weaker moments, never lingered on it or anything and definitely never like this, middle of the night with one hand on his dick and the other in a death grip on the edge of the sink. He always told himself he wanted it as another power trip, if anything, but it’s a little harder to justify the mental image he has now of himself on his knees with Jay above him. Jay’s not, like, a gentle guy, is the thing – can actually be pretty mean when he wants to be – and Matt wonders feverishly if that would carry over. If Jay would pull his hair. Maybe fuck into his mouth, a little bit – Matt barely bites off a moan at the thought, panting heavy. Matt’s stronger than Jay, physically (and certainly mentally, he likes to think) – is Jay dreaming about being manhandled, pushed around and boxed in, like he often is anyways? Matt speeds up his strokes and takes a minute to really picture it, think about what it would feel like to have Jay under him, warm and solid and making those noises he’d been making in his sleep. Matt hears Fuck, MJ one more time with perfect clarity and then it’s over, he barely has time to get a handful of toilet paper so he doesn’t come all over the cabinet.
Matt takes a second to catch his breath, washes his hands and heads back downstairs. He feels a little shaky, still keyed-up and itching to do something with his new information about his best friend. People have dreams that don’t mean anything all the time, obviously, and maybe tonight was a fluke but Matt has a hunch (maybe a hope, if he’s being honest with himself) that this is a moment they’ve been drifting towards for years. He thinks again about what it would be like to have Jay all to himself, every part of him, forever, and something warm and sharp coils in his stomach. And listen, he’s obviously a genius and could’ve gotten Jay at any point if he really wanted to, but even the hint of reciprocation changes things more than he’d like to admit. Is sending him into a little bit of frenzy, possibly.
When Matt creeps back into bed (Again with the sneaking! he thinks bitterly, I’m still not the weird one!) Jay is still asleep, snoring a little bit. As he’s dozing off with predawn light creeping around the curtains, Matt does what he does best and starts to come up with a plan.
***
When Jay wakes up, he becomes aware of two things almost immediately. The first is that the dream he had last night was definitely a wet one, which is unfortunate for several reasons. The second is that it sounds like Matt is busy in the kitchen, which is even more concerning.
“Matt?” Jay’s sitting up and calling out to him before he thinks about it, still rubbing sleep out of his eyes. He hears a loud crash and a muffled curse and then what sounds like Matt running, followed by him sliding into the doorway.
“Jay! Buddy! What’s up?” He looks a little flushed, his hair sticking up in odd places like it does when he gets distracted and runs his hands through it.
Jay would never admit it out loud, but he thinks he sorta likes Matt best like this. Before the hat goes on, before the whiteboard markers come out and the day gets loud and fast and hectic. And no mistake, he loves that too, he really does, could probably do it forever in a way that scares him sometimes, but. He likes Matt like this. Feels possessive of it, almost, the way he is without a camera pointed at him, not quite mellowed out (he's never mellowed out) but different in a way Jay doesn’t have the capacity to name even if he wanted to. In some corner of his mind he tries not to look at, he sees this as his Matt, with his flannel pants and worn out tee, which. Actually. Jay squints and tilts his head, taking another look.
“Matt, are you wearing my shirt?”
“Huh? What?” Jay realizes he cut Matt off mid-sentence, has no idea at all what he’d been talking about. Matt grabs the hem and pulls it out a little, looking down and then back up at Jay with an exaggerated look of confusion on his face. “Oh, this?” He’s a little red, seems nervous, almost, if Jay didn’t know better. “Probably, I don’t know man, listen —”
“Is something burning?” Jay feels a little bad for cutting Matt off again, but only a little, because he really does smell something troubling coming from the kitchen.
Matt is already running back out of the room, doesn’t even have time to finish saying, “Oh, shit,” before the smoke alarm is going off at full volume. Jay takes a second to be impressed it still works, he could’ve sworn it died months ago, and then he realizes he should probably do something and moves to get out of bed but misses the bottom step of the ladder and hits his head on the top step on his way to the floor where he lays for a second, groaning.
“Bird!” Matt’s sliding back into the doorway, does a cartoonish gasp and then a weird little dance where he kind of hops back and forth like he can’t decide whether to rush to Jay’s side or go deal with whatever is happening in the next room.
Jay waves him off, gets out, “I’m fine, Matt,” as he starts getting to his feet. Matt nods once, twice, then is rushing back to the kitchen. Jay barely remembers to pull some sweats on before following him, renotices the stiff patch in the front of his boxers while he does it, fucking embarassing, Jesus, but he figures there’s bigger fish to fry at the moment and stumbles into the living room, still shirtless. It’s too early for this, he thinks distantly, rubbing at his head where he hit it on the way down. He rounds the corner and is stopped in his tracks anyways, stunned mid-step by the scene in the kitchen.
Matt’s up on a chair with one of his old crutches in his hand, swiping at the smoke alarm and somehow managing to miss every time. There’s smoke coming out of the oven and off a pan on the stove, which —
“Jesus, Matt, turn the burner off first!” Jay rushes over to do it himself, narrowly missing a wild elbow to the face and sidestepping a broken egg on the ground on the way. He gets the situation under control and turns around just in time to see Matt successfully knock the smoke alarm off the ceiling, watches it fall to the ground where it shatters and lets out a few more pitiful beeps before Matt steps down from the chair and crushes it decisively with the crutch. “Matt,” Jay says, leaning against the kitchen counter and scrubbing over his face with one hand, “What the fuck are you doing?”
Matt has the decency to look just a little sheepish. “Not one of my better plans, eh?”
“Plans? What plan?” Jay hates playing catch-up no matter how much practice he gets.
“I was making you breakfast.”
Jay blinks. He’s momentarily touched and then almost immediately suspicious. “…Why?”
“What, you’ve never made someone breakfast before? Is that such a scandalous thing? God forbid I try to show a little—”
“I make you breakfast! Every day!”
“Oh come on, Jay, bringing me a box of cereal and a bowl hardly counts. Besides this was going to be a gesture—”
“I literally made you pancakes yesterday!” Jay’s yelling now, feels like he’s lost hold of the conversation or maybe never really had a handle on it in the first place. He pauses. “Wait, gesture? What gesture?”
Matt gulps. He scratches his head, looks like he’s debating what to say (Jay knows that face, the one he makes when a plan goes belly up and they have to improvise, knows it like the back of his hand at this point), somehow settles on, “Let’s go to the park.”
“The park?”
“Yes, the park! You love the park!” Matt keeps going, gesturing wildly, but Jay’s only half-listening. This whole situation is so weird, and Matt’s acting bizarre, even by his standards. It almost reminds Jay of the Canada Day letter fiasco, there’s that same sort of desperation in his voice. (Jay has no proof, but he thinks Matt knew about the letter, is sure he did something, somehow to make Jay stay. Sometimes Jay resents it. Usually he thinks it’s almost sweet.) The same nervous tics he had when he was hiding that they were banned from the Rivoli. Jay narrows his eyes.
“Matt, what’s going on?”
Matt stops mid-word, mid-gesture and looks at Jay wildly. “Bird, did you just listen to a single goddamn word that I said?”
Jay knows he’s using the nickname to make him feel guilty and is annoyed that it works. He just crosses his arms and gives a little shrug.
“Holy.” Matt seem genuinely annoyed, which never bodes well for Jay. “See this, this is the problem. You never listen—”
“I never listen? Jesus, Matt, I woke up ten minutes ago because you were burning the house down, I’m sorry if I’m a little slow right now—”
“You’re always slow, Jay, don’t be stupid. If you would just hear me out—”
“All I do is hear you out, when was the last time you heard me out?” Jay doesn’t even know what he really means by that, is aware he’s kind of lost the thread of why they’re yelling. He’s just annoyed, and still a little tired, and really just wants to change into clean underwear and get on with his day. He doesn’t even know why he’s having this fight, Matt’s right, he does love the park, sort of wishes they were already there right now instead of doing whatever this is.
He’s about to cave and apologize and try to gracefully exit the situation when Matt says, “Oh believe me, I hear you.” It wouldn’t be a weird thing to say, Jay almost lets it slide, except for the fact that Matt turns bright red and looks at the floor right after he says it. Makes that bug-eyed face he makes when he says something he doesn’t mean to say to Jay.
“What does that mean?” Jay uncrosses his arms, tries to look friendlier. Sometimes that works on Matt, gets his guard down. It doesn’t seem to be having much of an effect now. Silence stretches for a second. “MJ?”
Matt’s eyes snap up to Jay’s. “Did you know you talk in your sleep sometimes.” It comes out rushed, all in one breath, and Matt’s already slapped both his hands over his own mouth by the time Jay processes the words.
“Talk in my sleep? What…” And then Jay puts it together, his brain replaying his dream from the previous night without his permission, images of Matt on top of him, under him, on his knees and above him — it was a dream, okay, it was weird and it didn’t make a lot of sense narratively and Jay was pretty sure there was a mannequin somewhere in the background at some point, that’s not, none of that was relevant. The point is, there’s a lot of things he could’ve said, is all, some more incriminating than others. Jay thinks distantly that Matt’s look of horror at his slip-up would be comical if Jay wasn’t certain he’s sporting a matching one.
“Listen,” Matt’s saying, “Listen, Jay, it’s fine. It’s all good, man, I didn’t even. Don’t worry about it.”
This is an actual fucking nightmare. Jay pinches himself, winces when he doesn’t miraculously wake up back in bed. He’s sort of stunned, doesn’t know what exactly to do but knows he needs to do something, get himself out of here somehow. Without saying a word, he heads towards the bedroom. He’s stopped by Matt’s hand on his wrist. He tries to twist out of it but Matt’s too strong, is sort of manhandling him to stay in place, which is really not what Jay needs right now if he wants to avoid embarrassing himself any further. If that’s even possible.
“Matt, fuck, let go of me.” It comes out strained.
“Jay just, come on, man, let’s just talk about, this doesn’t have to ruin—”
Jay panics. Fully flips out, kicks Matt in the shins like a child and then they’re really tussling, worse than on Canada Day, more like back when they were fifteen and didn’t know how to pull punches yet. At some point they fall to the ground, roll around down there for a minute. Matt’s stronger but Jay can be scrappy and has the power of what feels like a full-fledged panic attack on his side. He ends up on top, straddling Matt and pinning his wrists above his head on the floor. They sit there for a second, panting, just staring at each other. Jay is very carefully keeping his full weight up and off of Matt, because if he notices that all the rolling around got Jay a little turned on (not his fault! it’s been a very confusing morning!) he’s actually going to have to kill himself. Like, immediately. The moment lasts until Matt nervously licks his lips, and then Jay snaps out of it, goes to get up and lock himself in his room (their room a small voice in his head unhelpfully reminds him) and just get a second to figure out what the fuck he’s doing. Maybe sneak out the window, start a new life in Montreal or something, that sounds like a good plan. Put on a shirt, at least.
He doesn’t get nearly that far. As soon as Jay lets go of his wrists, Matt reaches up to grab his face in both of his hands and tries to pull him back down. Jay goes about halfway before remembering to fight it, has his hands on Matt’s forearms when Matt takes it upon himself to just sit up the rest of the way and close the gap between them.
It’s not a good kiss. Jay’s maybe the most tense he’s ever been in his life, and Matt is just kind of pressing his mouth up against his, one hand grabbing Jay’s shoulder and one on the back of his head so he can’t get away. Jay is stunned for a moment and then moving again, pushing Matt’s shoulders and slamming him back onto the floor. There’s a quiet “ouch” as Matt lands on a piece of the smoke alarm from earlier.
“What the fuck, Matt!” Jay is furious and bewildered, has no idea what Matt’s game is, thinks there has to be a trick here somewhere. Maybe something to do with the Rivoli, somehow, although Jay can’t imagine a possible angle. He has a sinking suspicion Matt might just be fucking with him for fun.
Matt is still pinned by his shoulders, puts his hands on Jay’s wrists and squeezes gently. “Jaybird,” he says, “Please.”
Jay realizes he’s shaking. He freezes as Matt starts running his hands up Jay’s arms, can’t tell if things Matt is moving slow or if he’s just processing things in slow motion. Matt sits up again but it’s less frantic, and he has this concentrated look on his face like he doesn’t want to spook Jay, and Jay feels sort of helpless to try to get away again. He always feels a little helpless around Matt, can never put up a fight for too long. In the shifting of their positions, Jay ends up sitting back, right on Matt’s crotch, starts to cringe and then realizes he can feel Matt half-hard against him, which, oh.
“Oh,” Jays says outloud, and doesn’t like how breathless he sounds. Matt laughs a little, and Jay bristles but it doesn’t sound like Matt’s mean laugh, doesn’t sound like he’s about to feel the other shoe of some elaborate prank drop full force on his chest.
“Oh,” Matt echoes, still giggling, and it’s a little mocking but Jay is having a hard time caring, having a hard time processing it at all, with Matt’s hands sliding up his neck and cradling his face, gentle, nothing like before.
There’s one long, quiet moment where they look at each other, and Jay thinks last chance before it’s too late and Matt closes the gap again.
This kiss is a lot better, right off the bat. Soft isn’t a word Jay would ever use to describe Matt, but it’s improbably, impossibly true now. There’s a low keening noise, and Jay realizes with some horror that it came from him. He doesn’t have time to spiral about it, because Matt takes it as his cue to start moving his mouth, and — listen. Jay has spent a nonzero amount of time thinking about Matt’s mouth, he can admit that. It’s kind of hard not to, actually, with how much he fucking talks, and Jay’s had a fair amount of fantasies over the years about how he could shut him up, if he was ever brave enough to stick up for himself, take something he wanted for once. It’s not like his dream last night came out of nowhere – wasn’t anywhere near the first dream like that he’d ever had, truthfully. When he thinks about it, it’s actually sort of a miracle Matt never caught on before, even back in the days before Jay really knew what was happening himself, when he was drunk all the time just to have an excuse to pass out on Matt’s shoulder, to lean into him a little too long, too hard. But actually having Matt here, in his arms, is something else entirely, something Jay almost laughs to think he could ever get right just in his head.
Once Jay gets with the program, tentatively swipes Matt’s bottom lip with his tongue, Matt is on it, one hand at the base of Jay’s neck and the other coming to rest somewhere around his collarbone, overeager and opening his mouth like he wants to unhinge his jaw and swallow Jay whole. He probably does, Jay thinks, and then is surprised that the thought is kind of doing it for him. Neither of them have brushed their teeth and it should be gross, is actually kind of gross, but Jay can’t imagine breaking whatever delicate thing is happening over some petty shit like morning breath. Matt’s hands are roving over Jay’s back, up and down his sides, over his chest, like he can’t decide where he wants to be. Jay fists a hand in Matt’s shirt, remembers that it’s his shirt that Matt is wearing and can’t stop the groan that escapes. Matt makes some vague noise in response, doubles down in his efforts to stick his tongue all the way down Jay’s throat.
Matt’s not a bad kisser, all things considered. Much better than Jay was expecting, which makes him feel kind of petty and mean. But Jay can’t really breathe with everything going on, and every time he tries to lean back Matt follows. When Matt starts biting his bottom lip, Jay does the only thing he can think of to catch a break, which is to grab Matt by the hair and pull him away a bit and. Jesus. If Jay thought he was keening before, that’s nothing on the noise Matt makes, loud and unselfconsciously desperate as he grinds up against Jay in a way that seems almost involuntary. Matt’s eyes fly open and he starts to turn bright red. It’s…cute, there’s really no other word for it. Matt’s almost never embarrassed.
“Yeah?” Jay says, grinning.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Matt says, even as he’s grabbing Jay’s hips and pulling him closer. Jay makes a happy little noise as they rub up against each other. Matt moves in to start nosing at Jay’s jawline, leaves a wet trail of open-mouthed kisses.
Jay tightens his grip on Matt’s hair, laughs a little when it gets him another moan, sighs shakily when Matt grinds up into him again, little electric shocks of pleasure over his whole body. Feeling brave, Jay gets out, “You like that, MJ?”
Matt goes stiff in his arms, and Jay thinks he’s done something horribly wrong. Lets go of Matt’s hair and is about to start moving away when Matt actually takes a hand off of Jay’s chest to put his hand back in his hair and burrows in even closer, breathes, “Say that again,” so quickly and quietly Jay almost misses it.
“Oh,” Jay says, relief washing over him, “You like that?”
“No no no,” Matt says, which gives Jay pause. He just has time to start feeling embarrassed, stupid and presumptuous, when Matt continues, “Well not no. That’s good too, you should say shit like that forever. But um. The other thing.”
Jay frowns at him, tries to remember what he even said. He’s a little scrambled at the moment. When it clicks, he grins in a way that he can tell is coming out a little sharp but doesn’t know how to fix. “What,” he says, “You like when I pull your hair, MJ?”
“Jesus,” Matt says, and it sort of sounds like he chokes on it.
And like, Jay hates playing catch-up, but he’s used to it at this point with Matt. And he feels pretty caught up, here, thinks maybe he even has an advantage, which makes him feel a little wild. He pulls Matt’s hair again, holds him back so Jay can get a good angle to get to work on Matt’s neck. “Should’ve known,” he says, mouth moving faster than his brain, lips ghosting over Matt’s adam’s apple, “Pulling my fucking pigtails our whole lives, should’ve guessed you just needed a little attention yourself, eh, MJ?” And then he bites down, at the juncture where Matt’s neck meets his shoulder.
The effect is immediate. Matt whines and grabs Jay around the shoulders, pulling him bodily down so they’re flat on the floor. He forgets about the piece of smoke alarm, winces when he hits it and then lets Jay reach under him to dig it out and move it out of the way. “Aw Birdie, I knew you cared,” he says, like Jay’s some gentleman for moving a piece of plastic six inches to the right. Matt’s back to grabbing Jay everywhere he can reach, shifts them around so he has one leg between Jay’s and the other hooked around the back of his thigh, pulling him closer, which, yeah, Jay can get behind that. They’re probably too old to be on the floor like this, both of them will probably feel it tomorrow, but Jay just can’t bring himself to care that the couch is right there or that his knees are already starting to ache a little bit. The only thing he can think is more, more, more, and Matt seems to be picking up on it too, has one hand tangled in Jay’s hair and the other grabbing his ass, his mouth back on Jay’s in a frenzy.
Jay has one forearm braced on the floor by Matt’s head and slides his other hand up the inside of Matt’s shirt, relishes how hot Matt’s skin is, feels the hard muscle he’s always aware is buried in there somewhere. He experimentally squeezes a pec — figures it’s different but maybe the principal with women will hold here — likes the response that he gets, does it again. They have a good rhythm going, Jay can feel warmth coiling low in his gut and, if Matt’s noises are anything to go by, he’s getting there too. They really should move to the couch, and soon, but Jay figures a few more moments of what they’re doing won’t hurt, it feels too perfect to change now. Matt moves his mouth off of Jay’s, starts kissing down his neck again and manages to get an angle where he’s sucking on Jay’s collarbone, giving little bites and then soothing them over. Jay hangs his head, fists his hand in Matt’s hair and bites out, “Jesus fuck, MJ,” and then Matt is going rigid beneath him, grabbing Jay’s hip so hard he knows it’ll bruise, crying out as his rhythm goes staccato and then stops completely, breathing like he just ran a mile from the cops.
Jay goes still too and blinks down at Matt, who’s red in the face and has his eyes shut tight. “Matt,” Jay says slowly, “Did you just—?”
Matt immediately covers Jay’s mouth with his hand so he can’t finish his sentence and glares at him. (Jay files that away for later, because Jesus Christ.) “Bird,” Matt says seriously, “If you make fun of me right now I will hang myself for real and I’m not joking.” Jay just stares at him but can’t stop the giggle that bubbles up from his chest. Matt shakes him a little with the hand on his face. “Jay, what did I just say? You really want me to die? You want me to kill myself before you even get yours?” Jay is fully laughing now, he can’t help it, feels fizzy and elated. “Alright man!” Matt is still going, is always still going. “That’s it! I fucking warned you!” He moves to wriggle out from below Jay, which reminds him that he does, in fact, still need to ‘get his,’ and Jay pins Matt down again by the wrists, presses his hips down as hard as he can to keep him in place.
“C’mon, Matt, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.” Jay leans down and kisses him briefly, feels himself flush all over again with the knowledge that he can just do that now. “I’m just happy, man, don’t be like that.”
Matt still looks a little suspicious, but he stops trying to get away at least. His breathing is starting to even out, he even almost sounds normal when he rolls his eyes and says, “You’re happy. If you let me go I might even be able to make you happier, eh?” Matt flails his hands a little where they lie in Jay’s grasp, wiggles his eyebrows rapidly in something that he maybe intends to be sexy, Jay honestly can’t tell.
Jay sort of wants to keep giving him a hard time, God knows Matt would in this situation, but he really does want Matt’s hands back on him, like, yesterday. He lets go and sits back a little, is planning on asking Matt if he wants to finally move to the couch but gets almost immediately distracted by Matt pawing at his sweatpants, just really going for it, sticking his hand down the front of them and immediately grabbing Jay’s dick, starling out a “Matt!”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Matt says, tightening his grip a little and not looking very sorry at all, “Was this not what you were going for? Because if that’s the case then let me tell you, man, you have got to work on your communication.” Jay blinks down at him, doesn’t speak or move or even breathe, it feels like. Matt starts moving his hand, slowly, like he’s still worried Jay’s gonna come to his senses and run away, even now. All Jay can do is lean back down, bury his head in the crook of Matt’s neck and try not to crush him too much. When Jay doesn’t bolt, Matt picks up the pace. It’s a little dry, but the friction is kind of doing it for Jay, sort of makes sense to him, cosmically, that this would also be rough around the edges and poorly planned. He feels like he’s going crazy, and then Matt stops moving his hand and he whines. “Jay.”
He can’t bring himself to lift his head, just thrusts hopefully into Matt’s hand and barely manages an inquisitive noise.
“Jay, are you still wearing your wet dream underwear?” There’s a laugh in his voice and Jay has absolutely had it. He bites Matt’s shoulder, hard, which makes him yelp and buck under him, smacking Jay on the arm. “Christ, Birdie, it was just a question!”
“Matt,” Jay says, looking up at him with as much of a glare as he can muster, “If you don’t shut the fuck up and go back to jerking me off right now I’m gonna go do it myself, I swear to God.” It feels like a weak threat but Matt gets a look of genuine panic in his eyes and starts moving his hand. Jay laughs a little again, he can’t help it, and Matt gives him a hard squeeze that has him gasping in return.
“Don’t even joke, Bird,” Matt’s saying, “Do not take this from me, you have no idea what I was willing to do to make this happen.” Jay frowns a little and almost asks what the fuck that means, gets distracted by Matt swiping his thumb in a way that makes him shudder. It’s clear this is new to Matt, mechanics he’s used countless times on himself but now backwards, but what he lacks in finesse he’s more than making up for in enthusiasm. Like always, Jay thinks, overwhelmed with fondness and something else he tucks away for now. Matt’s talking at him, a stream of encouraging babble, full of “That’s it,” and “No idea what you do to me, fuck,” and, “Can’t believe you’re mine.”
The last one makes Jay moan and grind into Matt’s hand. “Fuck, Matt, please—” He doesn’t even know what he’s asking for, really, just trusts Matt to get him there.
Matt seems to really be getting the hang of this thing, speeds up his hand and keeps up the dirty talk and Jay hears “Come on, Birdie, give it to me,” and fuck him but he does, can’t even hear the noise he makes well enough to be embarassed by it over the ringing in his ears as he comes in Matt’s hand. He collapses on top of Matt with a deep groan, feeling wrung out and boneless. Matt’s saying something to him and prodding at his shoulder, but he ignores it until Matt pulls his hand out of Jay’s sweats and wipes it off on the leg of them.
“Matt, gross! Jeez!”
“You were ignoring me!” Matt sounds indignant and a little winded. Jay rolls off of him so they’re side to side, shoulders touching and staring at the ceiling. Jay wants to say something but isn’t sure what. Is kind of craving a cigarette for the first time in months.
Matt breaks the silence, like he always does. “You know,” he starts, “I really did have a grand plan to woo you.”
Jay smiles. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Jay can feel Matt nodding vigorously next to him. “It was gonna be beautiful, real tasteful, some flowers, some fireworks, you know. And then I figured after a few weeks or something you’d stop being stupid and realize we actually could have a nice, happy life together, and then you’d never get distracted by girls or breaking up the band or making us part time again.” Matt goes quiet abruptly, seems like he said more than he meant to.
There’s a lot for Jay to unpack, here. He’s never heard Matt make a plan on a timescale larger than a few days, wonders at the fact that Matt thought about sticking with something for weeks. Is amazed that that something could be him. Jay casts around for something to say, lands on, “You want us to have a nice, happy life together?”
“No, Jay, you want us to have a nice, happy life together.” Jay turns to look at Matt quizzically, who is looking back at him like he’s stupid. “You said that!”
“I don’t think I said that.”
“You absolutely did! Remember, when I gave – I mean, when you were on all that speed?”
Jay frowns harder. “I’ve never done speed. When did I do speed?”
Matt waves his hand aggressively like he’s trying to physically cut off the conversation. “You know what, forget it, it doesn’t matter. Sure, Jay, sure, I want us to have a nice, happy life together.” Matt looks away, fidgets with the hem of Jay’s t-shirt he’s wearing (wish he’d wash his hands, first, Jay thinks) and opens and closes his mouth a few times. “But you do too, don’t you?” His voice isn’t quiet, exactly, probably isn’t even capable of that, but it’s maybe the smallest Jay’s ever heard it. Jay thinks about everything he has with Matt and tries to imagine life without it, feels almost a physical pain trying to picture what a single day without him would even look like and coming up totally blank. He reaches over and takes Matt’s hand (the left one, not the gross one, he still has some standards left, even after all these years). Holding hands feels a little gay, which is a stupid fucking thing for him to think, but it is what it is. He can see in Matt’s face that he’s going through a similar thought process, which makes him hold on a little tighter.
“Matt,” Jay says, “Of course I want us to have a nice life together.” He bumps their shoulders together. “I actually think maybe we already kind of do?” Matt looks over at him hopefully. Jay leans up on his elbows and just has to kiss him about it a little bit. He pulls away before Matt can put his gross hand in his hair, sits all the way up and surveys the kitchen, which still smells like smoke and looks like a small bomb went off. “You still have to clean the kitchen, though.”
Matt sputters next to him. “The kitchen? I just gave you the best handjob of your life and you’re thinking about the kitchen?” He sits up too, gesturing wildly.
Jay scrunches his nose. “Do you think you’re maybe being a little generous towards yourself, there?”
“Shut up. Also, why do I have to clean? Why am I the woman in this relationship?”
“That’s sort of sexist, Matt.” Matt waves a hand dismissively. “Also, you have to clean it because you’re the one that got egg on the floor. And smashed the smoke alarm.”
“Lies, absolutely baseless accusations,” Matt says, but he’s already getting up off the floor, jumping up like he’s springloaded. He might be, Jay muses. He has enough energy. Matt looks down at himself and then pointedly down at Jay’s crotch and says, “You think we should maybe clean ourselves up a little bit first, though?”
Jay’s suspicious, but Matt does have a point. “Sure,” he says, “I could probably use a shower.”
“You know,” Matt starts, and Jay already knows where he’s heading and regrets getting him started in that direction, “I always thought our tub was pretty roomy. I actually get sort of lonely in there, sometimes. What with all the room.” He does the eyebrow wiggle thing again, and Jay is disgusted to find that he’s hopelessly charmed by it.
“Sure, Matt, we can take a shower together.” Jay tries to make himself sound resigned, but he can feel himself smiling too hard to sell it.
Matt does a ridiculous happy dance, then shouts “Race you!” and bolts towards the stairs. Jay takes off half a second after him, catches up and tries to grab his shirt to slow him down. They scuffle and trip each other, knock their shins on the stairs and a picture off the wall above the banister, but Jay can’t stop laughing the whole way up. He feels childish, in a good way, like he always does with Matt. It’s been them versus the world since he first saw Matt throwing bikes in the river, but he feels it cemented in a new way now, some stupid sappy glow in his chest that he half thinks must be radiating all the way out of his skin. A nice, happy life together, Jay thinks. He can’t wait for the rest of it.