forallyoucare | (no subject)

Touch him. Be near him. Buy the date. Don't let him leave you. You need him. He's the most important part of all of this. Don't let him go.

Those were not his words and not his thoughts, they were memories of whispers. They were catastrophes bundling up inside of his chest, just waiting to happen.

JC sat back against the wall on his bed in bare feet, one arm draped Mosely over a bent knee. He watched Judas for his body language. He watched him try to get the words out right. He watched his hair, frizzy and red and perfect, catch the sunlight from the window to his left. JC didn't shy away from answers, though.

He had so many to give.

"I've never claimed to own you. I am just afraid to lose you. You, more than anyone else-- I'm going to need you close to me, Judas. The path ahead is going to be hard. No one will understand. I'm afraid it might even get out of hand and you're so real-- I afraid that if you had distractions, you'd leave me. I'm still afraid that you'll leave me. I love you more than I love any one else. And I need you more than breathing right now. I should have just explained than become angry when you pushed me away."

"JC." Firm, making sure he had the other's full attention. "I'm not. going. anywhere." He made sure to annuciate every word pointedly, his tone serious. "Even if tomorrow I found the perfect person to be with - by the way that would mean someone who was just fine with me being a part of this, with you - I wouldn't go anywhere. You can't lose me; it's that simple."

He dug his fingers into his own messy hair. "I'm not sure how to get that through to you better. You saved my life, and you're my best friend." There was a bark of a laugh, shaking his head. "Probably the closest I'd admit to that whole soul mate thing, you know? You've got nothing to be jealous of, if that's what you're worried about. I might get distracted, whatever, but that doesn't mean I'm going anywhere."

His brows pinched and he held up a finger, frowning. "And I didn't even push you away! I didn't even know what to do when you started all that stuff this morning! Then you go and tell me you don't want me with anyone else, sounding completely pissed off about it? Yeah, I got pissed, too."

Soulmate. The voice immediately latched onto that concept and drove it through his mind to a piercing light behind his eyes. JC winced outwardly and put the heel of his hand to his eyebrow. "What if-- What if I'm the perfect person...? To be with I mean? What if I felt that way about you?"

Because keeping Judas meant being more human. More physical and affectionate...

He sighed.

"I'll admit that I have no idea just what I'm doing anymore. Or what I'm feeling."

The wince wasn't missed but it was misinterpreted, making Judas frown. "I don't know," he said honestly. In the end, he was human with all of their mistakes and foils and issues and pride and insecurity and while he believed JC wasn't above him like the others might, he definitely knew he was pretty low on the scale of humanity thanks to his past. He tried to make up for it though. "It's not just about feeling-"

Fuck. It felt like having the sex talk with a kid or something. "I miss the physical, too. And just... going and smoking a joint or getting wasted or going out to a club and losing myself for a few hours." Something he rarely did, given it was a waste of money, but the others could talk him into it. All stuff he'd never seen JC do. "I like the man you are, and I don't want to see that fucked up because of me, either. Doesn't mean I'm going anywhere, though. Unless you tell me to fuck off forever, I'm still yours."

It felt like one of the tv shows where the girl tells the guy that they're better off as friends and it stung to JC. The voice didn't need to tell him it did, it just did. He looked away from Judas and nodded. "Point taken. It's probably better to just... Let me apologise again... Forget about it."

The pounding in his head returned and he pressed his fingers into his scalp as if external pressure could soothe it. It didn't.

"I want you to be happy. And this... Is all right. Will be all right. As long as you're with me. So-- I uh... I've drawn up some plans.... Could you take them over to the garage for me?" He wasn't kicking Judas out so much as needing time.

"..." Judas sighed, looking away, seeing that familiar grip in JC's hair. "You realize... that relationships... aren't end-all-be-all?" No, probably not, but he had to teach his friend some things. "There's that whole... give and take thing. It's not that I give a shit if you don't do that, it's that you can't act like a jealous dick if I want to go do those things. You know, like the mere idea got you to act this morning. What would you want, if we... were together, anyway?" He raised an eyebrow, trying to get more info out of his friend.

"...If you still want me to take the plans over, I will, but I want you to think about all this, okay? Think about it, then talk to me seriously instead of just getting all-- like this."

Jesus returned to the garage with dinner for everyone, balancing stacks of pizza as if it was nothing at all. They were soaked through with grease, but his shirts and sleeves were pristine. There was a cry of pleasure from those gathered, about half of the Twelve and two lookers on. JC gave a standard Jewish blessing before they all dug in and then dropped into the seat beside Judas, an anorak chair with one of the slats missing on the back.

"Hey," he said, smiling at his best friend. The voice had been insistent about what he was supposed to do to keep Judas, but JC had done something he normally didn't, and instead of praying, he spoke directly to the voice.

It had even answered back.

There was an understanding reached and the voice had stopped trying to make his brain explode. He felt so much better right now and was more relaxed as he looked over at Judas.

"Tomorrow I would like to take you out to dinner. Me and you. Not too fancy, promise."

Damn it how was JC managing to surprise him over and over in the last few days? Judas blinked once before he let out a breath and gestured a bit with his pizza. "Sure?" Why was this suddenly happening? "Sounds good." A little more certain, but alright, if JC wanted to -- what? Was this an apology, a wooing? Out of the corner of his eye he caught Peter elbowing Simon slightly and leaning in to whisper to the other. Oh, he was going to get them back for gossiping.

"Should I dress up?" he could have laughed on the end of his own words because he never dressed up for anything. Not that he couldn't but... he hated it. He cleaned up fairly well but that clothing made him feel like a massive tool.

Peter was likely just relieved, happy Mom and Dad weren't fighting any more. JC didn't pay them any attention. His attention was on Judas as their friends had their pizza and more of Thad's beer. They were happy. JC seemed happy. Now they just had to work on the perpetual, personified scowl that was Judas' face.

"We're not fancy people," he pointed out, leaning on the side arm of the chair. His chin rested on his palm. "Mum told me about this place dad used to take her. It's Indian. You like curry, right?" Judas might want to pull his hair up some so he didn't dip his dreads in his curry and maybe trim up the beard but JC wasn't going out of his way to make him uncomfortable.

He lightly patted the arm of the chair before he pulled himself out of the chair and headed for the bus to take a look at what Andrew had done mocking up the drawings so they could order materials. Simon wasted no time filling JC's spot.

"Kiss and make up?"

"I'll spruce myself up a bit," Judas said with a bit of dryness, "but yeah, love curry." Would the others get upset that JC had invited him to dinner alone tomorrow? He cast a glance around the circle but almost no one seemed to even be paying attention.

Peter was unbelievably relieved. He was grinning brightly now as he ate, that unhappy pit in his stomach all better and leaving him all but boucing. He watched Simon walk over to talk to Judas and bit the inside of his lip. Was Simon after Judas? No, no. He shook his head. That was stupid.

Judas, however, snorted at Simon when the other spoke up. "Guess so." He eyed the blond briefly, then past him, raised an eyebrow at the expression Peter was blankly giving at Simon, but decided to say nothing. Huh. Interesting. "It's not like we ever fight for long."

"No, but sometimes it gets a little scary," Simon grinned, as if he didn't spend a lot of his time being violent or insinuating that he could be violent for pleasure's sake. "No one likes it when you two fight. Especially after all of this talk about the road trip tour. Seriously, Jude, this is happening. We made twice what we asked for in two days. And the donations are still coming in. We're going to have fuel and even enough to donate along the way back to charities."

Right up Judas' alley, right? The man was like...hot for charity. And maybe Simon was trying to stoke that up a bit. Just a little bit. He'd gotten it into his head that he and Judas could have a little fun again since it had been a long time for them, and while the ginger wasn't too into the hardcore stuff, his skin was incredibly soft for a man and Simon wanted to enjoy it.

"So what are you doing tonight?"

"It's ridiculous, isn't it? That's what I've been spending most of the day working through. What to donate on, what we need for ourselves, the bus... we're going to be able to spread so much so much further." Oh definitely what lit Judas' fire. Simon had his own hard on for fighting The Man, Judas had his for making sure the most needy of all had the basics in life.

"Tonight?" he scratched his chin, thinking about it. "Nothing in particular. Why?" He raised an eyebrow at the other, questioning him. Did Simon have plans? Maybe it wouldn't be a bad night to go out and enjoy himself. A little.

"Club?" He waggled his eyebrows at Judas suggestively. "I haven't been back to the old stomping grounds in Galilee in forever and I know you could use a night out. Your whole body is practically screaming for it," he teased.

It was just after six now. The sun would be down in an hour, but clubs weren't for the early birds.

"Say around eleven? I'll come get you on my bike. I'll bring an extra helmet." Of course, he didn't realize what that might do to Peter who would absolutely see him swinging by for Judas.

Damn, right on the money. Since he had a date, suddenly, out of no where, for tomorrow night, he was free tonight to get away from things for a night and enjoy himself. "Fuck, do I look that desperate?" He shook his head, mostly at himself. "Sure. Eleven. I'll be ready." He'd have to see what he even had that could work for a club, but black, skin tight, and the guyliner he already wore would probably be enough.

"I'll even try to look good for you." His smirk and tone suggested he knew damn well he always looked good.

"God, I hope so. I'm on the pull tonight," Simon laughed, hand on Judas' knee before he got up. Evidently, he was on the pull for something very particular indeed. Someone with dreads and bright, pale eyes and who was maybe a little on the Grungy, post modern rock side.

He gave Judas a wink as he left, snagging another pizza box back on the way to Peter. He thought about asking him out a few times, just as friends to the club, but ha!

Impossible. Peter would turn him down. Or worse. Go with. He couldn't babysit his pretty rear and get himself laid at the same time!

"Petey. Pizza up. You're too thin."

Judas raised a single brow up at that surprisingly direct suggestion. Huh. If Simon wanted him, why not just ask if they wanted to fuck later? That'd been a while, though now that he thought about it, they hadn't quite gotten that far with things together. Well, it'd be a fun night, one way or the other.

Peter, who saw that touch, felt his throat close up. Simon couldn't- he barely heard his friend when Simon returned, and instead, just got up and walked away, knowing he would say something so stupid if he stayed. If he just had the courage to say something- then what? What would be the point? Simon would turn him down flat. He laughed at himself, an unhappy sort of laugh. Why was he torturing himself with this?

"What? Pete, do I smell? Listen, you look fine--". Okay. What had he done? Simon watched him for for a moment, mulled over it and ate his pizza. Most of the other guys were on Amazon looking at what they could order for the bus, paints for airbrushing and little details that would make the rolling home a little more homey.

He spotted Peter a little while later, leaving the yard in front of the garage, and he cut off what he was saying to Bart to fall into step with his little Scottish friend.

"Want a ride home?" He asked with a sort of side-eye, not really able to read Peter well at all. He looked sad, though. Of all people on this Earth, Peter should be the last person to look sad. Ever.

Bart blinked, then shrugged when he spotted Peter. Those two had their own thing.

Peter, one hand around the backpack strap ready to hoof it home, looked to Simon at the sudden offer. He looked off to the side, wanting to say yes so badly (he could curl his arms around Simon and just hold tight for a few minutes) but it didn't help how he was immediately feeling. Still, if he didn't take it, Simon would know that he was a lot more upset than he wanted right now!

"Uh, sure," he said after a moment or two, even though the light wasn't quite back to his eyes despite the small smile. "Thanks, Simon."

Peter wasn't allowed to look like that. He just wassn't. The kid was too sweet and Simon felt like it was his duty to preserve that. He planted his helmet on the kid's head and climbed over to his motorcycle, settling in to wait for Peter to join him. "You hold on tight. JC will never forgive me if you fall off somewhere and get lost," Simon said.

He ended up not going to the house Peter shared with Judas, John and James, but instead to the Starbucks on the corner. It was a little too high profile for him, a little too conformist, but he really liked their frappacinos and McDonald's attempt to craft them was poor and technically, just as corporate. He turned to look over his leather clad shoulder at the youngest of the Twelve.

"Can I get you a coffee, Pete? You need some sugar. Your spirits are bringing us all down."

It was so easy to put his forehead against the warmth of Simon's leather jacket, his eyes closed as he held on tight. Simon felt strong and whippet under his arms and he breathed in that scent of hair gel and leather that even on the cycle he could smell this very close. So when he felt the cycle stop, he lifted his head and looked confused when this definitely wasn't the house.

He peered at Simon, blinking, then chewed his lip before shrugging. "Sure." This was... not what he was expecting. He loved spending time with Simon, and alone for once!, but this felt like salt on his little self-made wounds. But he could manage, right?

He climbed off, giving the cycle a pat.

Simon didn't hold the door for Peter, he didn't order for him either, just sort of pointing over his shoulder for the kid to give the barista his order. He paid with a phone app, prepaid by one of his old clients who had leant him his card once and never asked for it back. The man still topped it off when it went low, probably with some auto reload thing. Simon didn't complain. It was just nice to get a fancy coffee on some other dude's dime every once in awhile.

They sat at a counter upstairs, side by side, once their orders were up and the sugar cookies Simon had gotten from the case were out of the little to go bags handed over with their receipt. He didn't take off his leather jacket as he hooked an elbow over the back of the chair and looked down at his bike and the rest of the small city passing below.

"We never do this," Simon was saying, mostly to himself as he broke off a piece of the cookie to chew on, looking thoughtfully at Peter. "So weird. You're the only Starbucks type in the group too."

"It's funny because you're the person I would last think who was a Starbucks kind of guy," he said quietly, leaning forward on his elbows on the counter and his hands wrapped around his cup but ignored the cookie. A weird thing for them to have in common. They did have remarkably little in common, the more he thought about it, but... a few. A few. Like this. Like JC.

"Hey, Simon? ...Why do you stay with us?" Peter turned his head to look at Simon, trying to understand him by watching those beautiful eyes and expressive face.

"Just...you know. Don't rat me out. Everyone's allowed to have a guilty pleasure, man." Simon winked at his friend before he broke off another piece of cookie and hooked the heels of his boots against the rung of the stool he was seated in. It was all so effortless, the way he held himself, but he was a dancer. Perhaps not the sort of reputable one that Peter's parents went to see at the ballet, but the movements were surprisingly similar. Just less technically minded or choreographed.

He was halfway done his drink when Peter spoke again, and this time, it made Simon laugh.

"I got the call, same as you guys." John called it that, the call. Meeting JC had been like a breath of fresh air to a plant that didn't know it was dying. And following him? Well, Simon wasn't sure he had a choice. "He saved me. From myself. I mean, it wasn't as dramatic as how he saved Judas but he made me see that there was a better way. I'd never leave him now."

They all knew a little about Judas but not the whole story (not like Simon did), but still Peter could nod a little. His eyes went back down to his cup, trying to keep two trains of thought from coming together but it was failing. He wanted to think about that, about Simon and his reasons why, but his lower brain was getting in the way of his upper brain. His fingers tightened on the cup unconsciously and he sighed a little to himself.

"Not the same as me," Peter pointed out, not looking up. Sometimes he felt like he had messed up by not getting saved in the same way as the others, though he knew exactly what they meant. Meeting JC for the first time had been something else, something like light coming into his life. Simon... Simon had been the one to save him, as far as he was concerned. He brought up a hand and brushed the only remainder of that night, the small scar near his hairline.

Simon's eyes followed the tips of Peter's fingers. How could they not? He wanted to touch the scar too, but he knew better than to do that. He believed he was a good man, he believed he had a lot to offer someone, but he also believed that Peter was sort of his number one achievement here. That the whole of his goodness had been channeled into kicking that douche bag in the head a few times.

Most people probably wouldn't agree, though.Kicking people in the head? Not a cool move.

He turned to face Peter, elbow on the counter and one leg propping his boot on a rung of Peter's stool. Their legs nearly brushed, but the heat from Simon's body might as well have done the job anyway.

"James only joined up after John met JC," he pointed out, as one brother had brought the other along. And in a way, it was sort of the same for the two of them. Simon had brought JC, Judas, Matt and Andy to the hospital to see Peter the day after he'd been taken there. Why? Simon just knew that Peter was one of them. He'd felt it when he touched his hand.

It didn't matter if he was so different from the rest of them.

"I just happened to be at the right place at the right time."