forallyoucare | (no subject)

(no subject)

JC wasn’t sure when the voices started. They popped up here or there in his childhood, usually egging him on to do something dangerous. His mum use to say that he was playing with an imaginary friend, but the voice was never a solid thing to run down to the corner shop with or to throw sticks in the river with when the other boys in the neighborhood thought he was too weird or creepy to hang around with. The voice never stuck around either so JC couldn’t exactly blame it. And he sounded mad when he did.

After a rather detrimental and insistent period in his teenage years, culminating in one very big adventure that nearly gave his parents a heart attack when the voice demanded that he go all the way to the city for a few days without telling anyone, it disappeared for a long, long time.

But that sweet, familiar persistence came back again one afternoon where they were just leaving a coffee house after a small after-concert rally with the Twelve, or while he was showing Andrew a cat video that one of their online supporters tweeted him, or when he was by himself in the woods looking up at the sun through the sky-- He didn’t know when it started but it was back again and it was itching at his skull like sand stuck behind his eyes.

All he knew was that they needed to start reaching more people. Facebook and Twitter were fine. Tumblr worked. The new Youtube channel seemed to be doing all right but the coffee shops in small towns around their home base? The venues were just too small. They needed to travel, together. All of them.

That’s when he went to Judas with his idea. Err…the voice’s idea. “What if we rented and RV and traveled? We could book gigs everywhere!”

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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."

"It doesn't matter. You risked getting your ass kicked to save me." His fingers press at the scar before they fall away. He shrugged, taking a drink before adding quietly, "I remember waking up in the hospital assuming I was dead. I don't even remember you saving me. Nothing after that kick to the head." Or when his head hit the ground, he wasn't sure. "I just remember opening my eyes and seeing you and JC standing there looking down at me."

A little smile, but it was a bit sad. One finger played with the wood stain of the counter, trying to figure out if it was real or not. He just gave in to his own desire, hating himself for it, and let his leg touch Simon's.

Simon didn't really think a whole lot of it. He saw JC and Pete holding hands all the time. Technically, JC pretty much held anyone's hand who sat next to him, and Peter always made sure to have his front row seat. Simon wondered if it was comforting, to hold hands with their friend. He thought it must be, but he never tried to get a spot for himself. Peter probably needed it.

Not because he was weak, but because he made everyone happier just to be around him.

"I brought you grapes," Simon grinned. They hadn't been the seedless sort though, so Peter almost choked. "Oh, your mom took one look at me at cried when your parents came down-- I'm surprise you stayed," he said, throwing Peter's words back at him.

That got a laugh out of Peter, remembering that. "Everyone freaked out because they thought I was going to die on top of already having already almost died." He stretched his legs out under the counter, then let his knee fall back againt Simon's. It felt... nice. Almost like this was something more.

"I explained to her after that you saved my life... she felt a little better after that." Okay so maybe he told them a few little white lies to smooth things over. "Maybe not their cup of tea, though."

No she didn't. She just stopped clutching her pearls so tightly. Simon had gone home and just texted Peter for awhile after that, until Peter's parents had gone home and the kid himself went back to his tiny apartment. He had no idea that JC had moved into his territory by that point. Simon had been planning on getting himself invited over and sampling the goods he had saved but JC brought Peter into the fold before that could happen.

Simon had been surprised. He'd been more surprised when Peter stuck around and made friends with James and John and then moved into the tiny room they had open in their house.

"Are you seriously coming with us? I mean, you'll still have a year left at college." It wouldn't be the same without Peter. Simon had such perfect memories of him laughing or praying or walking with JC to a booth in a coffee shop that was decidedly less corporate than this one.

He liked his room in with James and John. They were easy to live with and the three of them just got on well. He had his own room and could clean up after himself and paid his bills, so things went well enough. It was better than being alone, honestly.

"I am." That much he was certain about. "I can always come back and complete college but this? This... this is something special. I want to be on the ground floor when it starts. I want to see more of the world and do something good in it, you know? It's got to be something more than just a job or money or all of that! Besides... I know you know it, but JC is something special. You're something special."

The last few words slipped out, mumbled, before he even really thought about it.

"I'm not a damned thing," Simon laughed, breaking off another piece of the cookie as he turned back to face the street. "Seriously. Nothing at all. One day, maybe. I have dreams that this is going to mean something and I'll get to be a better person. I keep thinking that we are really going to change the world. I... Believe in him."

It seemed ridiculous to say. It was a confession that the aloof, arrogant Simon had never told anyone before.

"I believe I'll be good because of him and that I'll find the things I've been missing most in life. If I try really hard. I just keep on slipping, Pete. Isn't that sad?" He brushed the crumbs off of his jacket, blue eyes looking bluer from the dark makeup around his lashes. "Shit, do I sound really dumb right now? You're allowed to laugh at me."

"No!" It came out louder than he intended, but Peter's eyes were firm on Simon, his expression quite serious as he looked into those beautiful blue eyes. "You are good. You're with him, doing something bigger than yourself. You're about to go out with all of us and do something even bigger. A chance to get your voice, all of our voices, out into the world and making a difference. You've got the courage to do that where a lot of people don't. You're not perfect but none of us are!"

Peter hadn't even noticed when he'd grabbed onto Simon's forearm and had a tight grip. "You should believe in him. I do. I believe in you, too."

Well colour Simon confused. Peter was always a little bit on the soft side and he'd never seen such intensity in those baby blues before. It made Simon grin. "One thing you don't ever have to worry about is about that." He let Peter hold onto his arm, it wasn't like he could hurt the leather, and took another sip of his greatly diminishing coffee-like frozen beverage.

This was probably why JC had picked Peter. He was so... Wholesome, yes, but also incredibly passionate.

"We could work on our self confidence together. How about that?"